Chapter 272
Evelyn sat on the edge of her bed, her face alight with unrestrained joy.
Five years ago, her stepmother Margaret and her younger brother Sebastian had stolen three hundred million from Thornfield Industries. After squandering most of the fortune, greed had consumed Sebastian, driving him to plot another scheme against the company. But this time, he wouldn’t walk away with riches—only the cold, unyielding grip of justice.
Just moments ago, Officer Bradford, the detective handling the case, had called Evelyn with electrifying news: Sebastian had boarded a flight back to the country.
A team of officers was already positioned at the airport, ready to ambush him the moment he stepped off the plane. His arrest was imminent.
This was the moment Evelyn had waited years for. Even after hanging up, her pulse refused to steady. She wanted to share the news with her friends, but the clock read three in the morning—too early to wake them.
Restless, she slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen. The fridge held a few cans of beer her mother used for cooking. She grabbed one and wandered into the living room, collapsing onto the couch.
At four a.m., Dominic was jolted awake by his ringing phone. He scowled at the screen, rubbing his temples.
When Evelyn’s name flashed across the display, he blinked, certain he was hallucinating. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked again. No mistake—it was her.
He answered immediately, dread coiling in his gut. They hadn’t spoken in months, not unless forced. If she was calling now, something was wrong.
"Hello... Dominic? Happy Birthday!"
Her voice was thick with intoxication. Relief flickered through him—she wasn’t hurt—but then irritation took its place.
"Evelyn Thorne, have you lost your mind?" he snapped, disappointment sharpening his tone.
"...I called to wish you a happy birthday, and this is how you respond?" She crushed the beer can in her hand, imagining it was his neck.
"My birthday was yesterday," he corrected tersely. "Why are you drinking? What happened? Where are you? Give me your address."
He threw off the covers and stalked to the closet, yanking out clothes.
She giggled, the sound bright and unrestrained. "I’m at home! Why do you think I’m this happy?"
Her laughter was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He sank onto the edge of the bed, disarmed.
She was genuinely happy—but he had no idea why.
"It’s been so long since I heard you laugh like that, Evelyn," he murmured, his voice rough with something dangerously close to longing.
Her smile faltered. For a heartbeat, it felt like no time had passed at all.
A sharp ache pulsed behind her eyes. She tossed the empty cans into the trash and staggered toward her bedroom.
"Dominic Blackwood... I called you... to wish you a happy birthday..."
"You already did."
"Oh... Then I hope you have a son soon."
He exhaled sharply, too exasperated to be angry. "No, thank you."
"No son? Fine. Then I wish you endless wealth!" She collapsed onto the bed, the room spinning.
Her heavy breathing filled the silence between them. An idea sparked in Dominic’s mind—drunken words were sober thoughts. There was one question he’d never gotten an answer to.
"Evelyn," he began, voice gravelly. "When you were pregnant with our child... did you really get rid of it?"
Henry resembled him. The boy had the same stubborn tilt to his chin that Sophia did.
Dominic couldn’t stop thinking about Henry. If their child had lived, he’d be the same age now.