Chapter 411

The security team and medical staff swiftly escorted Dominic away.

Evelyn curled up on the bloodstained bed, knees drawn to her chest, her sobs echoing through the silent room.

As midnight approached, clarity pierced through her grief. The deafening screams of regret in her heart became unbearable.

The rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades vibrated through the ceiling before fading into the darkness.

Footsteps approached her door. She didn't lift her head. Whoever entered didn't matter anymore.

The visitor draped fresh linens over her trembling shoulders and retrieved the bloodied dagger from the sheets.

"Miss Thorne." Nicholas Vaughn's voice held quiet disappointment. "This blade was meant for protection, not attempted murder. I must reclaim it."

Evelyn's breath hitched. "I wanted to kill him... but I couldn't."

"You might as well have," Nicholas countered calmly, lighting a cigarette. The ember glowed in the dim light. "Provoking him achieved the same result as plunging that dagger into his heart yourself."

His words left her speechless.

"Your mother passed last year, didn't she?" He exhaled a plume of smoke. "Grief makes us fragile. His mother just died. We came to support him, but he asked us to leave tomorrow. Perhaps our presence was too... overwhelming."

Evelyn stared blankly at the crimson stains marring her bedsheets.

"I don't pretend to understand your twisted relationship," Nicholas continued, "but I've never seen him look at another woman. We've introduced stunning socialites - all more beautiful, more curvaceous than you. Yet his eyes only ever sought you. Ask yourself why he kept returning."

Evelyn swallowed hard. "I don't love him anymore."

"Is that so?" Nicholas studied her tear-streaked face. "Then why these tears? He said even death wouldn't trouble you further."

Her silence spoke volumes.

"Don't claim the blood frightened you," he challenged. "You've seen more violence than most soldiers see in a year." Crushing his cigarette, he turned toward the door. "Rest well, Miss Thorne."

After Nicholas departed, the housekeeper entered, shock widening her eyes.

"Miss Thorne... shall I prepare another room? These sheets need changing."

Evelyn's voice emerged hollow. "I'll stay."

As the housekeeper helped her rise, she gasped. "Your leg wound has reopened! The doctor isn't here..."

Evelyn glanced down indifferently. The bandage bloomed red - perhaps his blood, perhaps hers. The pain meant nothing now.

Once fresh linens adorned the bed, Evelyn lay motionless beneath them. The housekeeper switched off the lights as she left.

In the darkness, Evelyn's mind replayed every horrifying moment.

Violence toward others could be blamed on his temper. But self-destruction? That defied explanation.

"Madman," she whispered into the night.

Tears carved silent paths down her cheeks as dawn approached.

A gentle knock announced breakfast. Seeing Evelyn's feigned sleep, the housekeeper retreated with the tray.

Evelyn hadn't slept. Her swollen eyes opened to the morning light. She reached for her phone, desperate for news about Dominic's condition.

Searching "Dominic Blackwood" yielded instant results:

[Blackwood Group CEO Rushed to Hospital Via Helicopter - Critical Condition! (7 Hours Ago)]

[Breaking: Blackwood Group CEO Suffers Cardiac Arrest! Pronounced...]