Chapter 311

Evelyn didn't press for answers.

She knew Alexander Kingsley's temperament all too well.

The man had always been this way—he'd speak when ready, and any probing would only invite humiliation.

These days, his disdain no longer affected her.

But she saw no reason to invite unnecessary unpleasantness.

Silence stretched between them in the car.

"How many more like Wendy West remain in your company?" Alexander suddenly asked.

Evelyn arched a brow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning?" He echoed her words, irritation simmering beneath his tone.

Even after confronting the Kingsley matriarch, his agitation refused to dissipate.

With Evelyn, he always felt this powerlessness.

He could easily cage her away from all danger, yet she stubbornly resisted.

And he couldn't bring himself to clip her wings.

Watching her skirt peril night after night left him sleepless.

Alexander didn't understand what he feared most.

During the hours waiting for her shift to end, he'd realized one truth—he still craved the warmth she'd once given him.

Back then, whether genuine or not, she'd stayed within his boundaries, gazing at him with fiery devotion.

He'd been consumed by suspicion then. Now, those days felt like rare treasures.

"Are you certain you can protect yourself?" His voice was ice.

"Absolutely." Evelyn turned to the window, her profile cool and detached. After a beat, she laughed softly and met his eyes. "Though I wonder who put me in this position to begin with?"

Alexander's breath caught.

Right.

Wendy had acted on Isabella Winslow's orders. And why Isabella saw Evelyn as a threat needed no explanation.

His lips twisted in self-mockery.

So he was the root cause after all?

"Rest assured, I'll honor our agreement." His promise dripped with sarcasm, though it was unclear who it mocked. "The terms are clearly spelled out in black and white."

He would protect her and their unborn child.

In return, she'd remain his wife for one year...

One year?

Far too short!

Alexander's knuckles whitened.

He knew exactly what she planned.

Did she truly think she could walk away after a year? Never.

"By the way, thank you today." Evelyn's voice cut through the tension like winter sunlight.

His rigid posture eased slightly. "For what?"

"The legal team." She left it at that.

The Kingsley Group's lawyers hadn't appeared by accident.

Officially, they'd investigated the forged cease-and-desist letter. In truth, they'd come to shield her.

"Hn." Alexander's acknowledgment was barely audible.

The charged atmosphere in the car gradually softened...

After the Wendy incident, Horizon Media's video division became noticeably quieter.

The troublemakers had left. Those who remained kept to themselves.

Evelyn threw herself into assembling a new team and preparing fresh programming.

Office rumors swirled—some claimed Xavier Stapleton faced attempted murder charges, while others whispered Hugo Lee had privately apologized to the Sullivans after a surface-level reconciliation.

Two days before the Sullivan gala, Roman Young returned.

Now bearing the Sullivan name as Roman Sullivan, he'd spent his post-hospital days adjusting to family life before reappearing at work.

"Evelyn." Transformed, his eyes alight with purpose, he handed her an ornate box. "You must come tomorrow. Mother prepared this gown—see if you like it. The designer can make adjustments."

Evelyn teased, "'Mother' rolls off your tongue rather easily."

Roman scratched his head sheepishly. "Just conveying her exact words. I'm clueless about women's fashion."

When Evelyn lifted the lid and saw the snow-white fabric, she froze.

"You dislike it?" Roman tensed.

"No, it's beautiful." She managed a faint smile.

White... How long had it been?

That color had vanished from her world after leaving Alexander.

"Never mind." Roman repacked the gown. "There are blue and purple options. I'll have them sent over."

Madam Sullivan had provided multiple dresses. He'd chosen his favorite white one, only to misread her reaction.

Years of hardship had honed his ability to read subtle cues.

"I actually have suitable attire," Evelyn said without insistence.

She truly wished to avoid white, but wouldn't refuse genuine kindness.

True healing meant no longer deliberately avoiding reminders.

Roman worked swiftly. Soon, an array of gowns arrived.

Trying them in her office, Evelyn admired Madam Sullivan's impeccable taste. They'd met only twice, yet the woman had gauged her measurements perfectly.

Each gown boasted distinct styles, all flawlessly fitted.

She finally selected an amethyst chiffon dress with delicate sleeves and a skirt dusted with sequins that shimmered like starlight.

"Please thank Madam Sullivan for me." She returned the others.

The Sullivans' goodwill, so long as it remained appropriate, she would accept.

Her family's downfall had taught her—there was no virtue in unnecessary pride.

On the gala evening, the Sullivan car arrived punctually.

Autumn's chill had set in. Evelyn arrived at the venue wrapped in a lilac trench coat.

When she shed the outer layer, the attendant's eyes widened at the vision in violet.