Chapter 43 Cracks in the Mask
"Avery!!” Roman called again, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t even try to hide.
Evelyn froze. Forgetting about her phobia for hospitals.
This time, she heard it clearly. It wasn’t ‘Evelyn’ slurred. Not ‘Lyn’. It was ‘Avery,’ clear as day. A cold knot formed in her stomach. Her throat tightened.
She gritted her teeth, turned on her heel, and tried to leave before her face betrayed her
But Roman’s hand shot out and caught her wrist, holding her tight.
“Let go,” she said through gritted teeth.
But he didn't budge.
Evelyn turned back sharply, ready to fight him off—until she saw his face.
Roman’s eyes were bloodshot. His gaze was locked on her like he wasn’t fully there, like he was staring through her instead of at her.
Her heart thudded hard.
“Roman…?” Her voice cracked. “Roman, are you okay?”
He didn’t answer.
“Hey—hey, wake up.” Her hands trembled as she tapped his cheek lightly. “Roman, stop it. Look at me.”
Nothing.
Fear crept up her spine. His expression was starting to scare her.
Evelyn’s fingers went numb. She reached toward the call button—
Then decided it wasn’t fast enough.
She stepped back, ready to run out into the hallway and scream for a nurse.
But Roman yanked her back with that same grip.
“Ah—!” She gasped, stumbling off balance. She fell forward, landing awkwardly against his chest as he tried to sit up properly.
His arms wrapped around her instantly, cradling her like he’d been waiting for it.
Then he whispered hoarsely, close to her ear. “I’m okay.”
Evelyn stiffened.
She pulled back just enough to look at his face.
Roman… was looking down at her now, a faint, tired smile on his lips. The terrifying emptiness in his eyes was gone, replaced by his usual focused gaze. It had happened so fast it felt like a switch had been flipped.
Roman’s smile widened a fraction. “I was just pulling your leg,” he said softly. “I’m fine.”
‘He’s joking?’
Evelyn stared at him, her disbelief turning into anger. She shoved at his shoulder and pulled herself out of his arms, creating space between them.
“Oh, come on.” Roman’s voice turned gentle, in an attempt to coax her. “I just wanted to make a lively scene when I woke up. I’m sorry, my baby.”
Her cheeks heated at the endearment, despite herself. “I’m not a baby,” she muttered angrily. “To lighten the mood, you decided to scare me half to death?”
Evelyn said turning her head away, arms crossing over her chest.
“And you said it again. Avery. Don’t deny it. I heard it clearly this time.”
Roman let out a weak, raspy laugh. “My bad. I’m sorry,” he said lightly. “Since you mentioned the name Avery before, I decided to tease you with it.”
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I don’t buy that.”
Roman sighed, coughing suddenly, the sound deep and rough.
Evelyn’s anger wavered when she noticed how pale he still looked—how weak he seemed under the teasing mask.
She didn’t trust his excuse… but she swallowed it for now.
Without a word, she went to the water dispenser nearby, poured a cup, and returned to his bedside.
She handed it to him and watched his face closely as he drank.
‘One way or another, I’m going to find out who this Avery is,’ she promised herself.
Roman paused mid-sip, sensing her stare. He glanced at her.
“What?” he whispered hoarsely.
Evelyn didn’t blink. “Why did you faint?”
Roman’s fingers tightened around the cup. He started tapping lightly against it—once, twice. Like he was buying time.
His eyes flicked to the ward door.
“Why—” Evelyn leaned closer, about to press him again
The door to the ward suddenly opened.
Roman’s lips curved slightly, like he’d just been rescued.
‘Bingo,’ he practically breathed under his next sip, as if expecting the intrusion.
\---
Meanwhile, across the City, Lena was about to make her own kind of trouble…
Lena had been thinking all day—while ignoring her father’s calls, while watching the chaos online, while also chewing through her last bag of chips.
Finally, she sighed.
‘Fine. One stupid date. Then he lets me off.’
She walked into the restaurant with a sulking expression.
Adler Rhys wasn’t hard to spot.
He had that polished, perfect look—tailored suit, calm posture, eyes sharp enough to make people sit up straighter without knowing why. A man like that didn’t blend in anywhere. He ‘owned’ space.
The Adlers were one of Trevinia’s top families. Powerful. Wealthy. Famous. Her father’s law firm worked with theirs, which was why William kept pushing this “perfect match.”
Lena rolled her eyes inwardly.
‘Oh please. I commit far too many crimes to date a lawyer.’
She started walking toward his table to get this over with.
When suddenly, someone grabbed her from the side and dragged her back.
“Hey!” Lena snapped, already lifting her purse. Ready to hit the stranger.
Then she turned and saw who it was.
Nathan Sinclair.
Any hesitation she had before, vanished.
Lena swung her purse hard. She put her full force into it, smashing the metal clasp of her bag against his head.
“Fucking asshole,” she spat.
“AHH—!” Nathan groaned, staggering back, one hand flying to his forehead.
The sound drew attention instantly.
This was a high-end place. Filled with socialites, influencers. And these people lived for drama.
And Nathan Sinclair, was the drama of the year. Thanks to his scandal, he was instantly recognized.
Phones came out in seconds.
Nathan looked down at his hand, feeling something wet. His face twisted.
When he saw blood, his eyes went red.
“You fucking whore—” he started.
Lena didn’t let him finish. She swung again. Harder.
Nathan stumbled and almost dropped to one knee.
“You dare touch me?” Lena’s voice rose, sharp and fearless. “You rabid animal. Try it again and I’ll rearrange your face permanently.”
“I’LL KILL YOU!” Nathan screamed with rage, his voice breaking. “I gave you the money! You blackmailed me and you STILL leaked that tape online!”
The crowd’s whispers exploded.
“She’s the one who leaked the sex tape?”
“Oh,this is juicy.”
“I kind of admire her nerve.”
“That’s still blackmail though…”
“He paid and still got exposed? Damn.”
The public judgment only fed Nathan’s fury. With an angry yell, he lunged forward, losing control. No longer caring about appearances, only about making her hurt.
But before his hand could touch her.
A hand shot out from beside them, catching his arm in a steely, immovable grip, stopping him cold.