Chapter 400

"Miss Thorne, you're finally awake!" A deep male voice pierced through the fog in her mind.

Evelyn turned her head weakly toward the sound. It was Dominic's personal guard.

"Miss Thorne, do you recall what transpired last night?"

The guard stood rigidly beside her bed. "When Mr. Blackwood carried you back through the storm, the rain was torrential! He lost his shoe in the mud and carried you barefoot the entire way!"

Evelyn's lips parted slightly in shock.

"Your leg injury is severe, but Mr. Blackwood's feet were shredded by the terrain..." The guard's gaze dropped meaningfully to her bandaged thigh.

"You both developed fevers from the exposure. After tending to your wounds, he barely had time to dress his own injuries before leaving for Madame Eleanor's funeral without rest."

The guard studied her impassive face, wondering if the fever had dulled her senses.

"Miss Thorne, you're the most fearless woman I've ever encountered." Admiration colored his tone.

"At dawn, we discovered a wounded wolf nearby. That must be the beast that attacked you? Astounding! Someone of your stature battling a wolf unarmed!"

"I had a dagger," Evelyn rasped before erupting into violent coughs. "Miss Thorne, conserve your strength. Just listen," the guard insisted.

"We cooked the wolf. Consider it vengeance served."

Evelyn blinked slowly.

"My colleague also wishes to apologize for the python incident in the cellar yesterday. They don't actually consume humans. It was merely...persuasion."

"Why apologize to me?" Evelyn's voice scraped like sandpaper.

"Because we misjudged the situation. We believed Mr. Blackwood despised you. None of us realized his...attachment." The guard shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm not making excuses for him. But please don't punish my team. Their loyalty lies with Mr. Blackwood—"

"I need rest," Evelyn interrupted wearily.

"Of course. I'll summon the physician." The guard retreated.

Soon, a white-coated doctor entered, checking Evelyn's vitals.

"You still have a moderate fever, Miss Thorne," the doctor announced after examination. "Significant blood loss has caused anemia. Complete bed rest is mandatory. Your thigh wound is severe—deep enough to scar."

Evelyn felt like a marionette with cut strings.

Testing her limbs proved futile. Though conscious, she might as well have been paralyzed. No energy. No reaction. Just the hollow exhaustion of survival.

"I'll have the housekeeper prepare restorative broth," the doctor said before departing.

Evelyn stared blankly at the crystal chandelier above.

Sunlight refracted through the prisms, casting rainbow patterns that mocked the darkness in her soul.

A car's arrival interrupted her thoughts.

Through the window, she saw the black Rolls-Royce glide to a stop. Dominic emerged.

"Mr. Blackwood! Miss Thorne is awake!" The guard reported. "She's been...remarkably composed."

Now aware of their employer's true feelings, the guards treated Evelyn with newfound respect.

Dominic strode inside, intercepting the housekeeper carrying a tray.

"The physician ordered light nourishment for Miss Thorne," the woman explained.

Dominic took the tray himself and ascended the stairs. He stood beside her bed, bowl in hand.

Evelyn's breath hitched when he appeared, though her expression remained neutral.

"Open." He lifted a spoonful of broth to her lips.

"Evelyn," his voice turned steely, "if you ever want to see Lily and Henry again—if you want Margaret to pay—you'll eat."

Her fever-bright eyes locked onto his as she weakly raised a hand.

"I'll feed myself."

Though her voice was ravaged by illness, the defiance in her spirit burned undimmed.