Chapter 230

**Evelyn's POV**

"Get in the car, Evelyn." Dorian's voice was quieter now, but no less commanding.

I stood my ground for a moment longer, letting the silence stretch between us. The parking lot suddenly felt exposed, too public for the storm of emotions raging inside me. With a resigned sigh, I finally slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door harder than necessary.

Dorian walked around to the driver's side, his movements measured and controlled. When he settled beside me, neither of us spoke. The engine purred to life, and we pulled away from Starlight Lounge, leaving behind the chaos of the confrontation—and Hunter.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Dorian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic card.

"Here," he said, holding it out to me. "A new SIM card for your phone."

I stared at it for a moment before taking it from his hand. "Thank you," I replied flatly.

"Put it in."

"I'll do it when we get back."

From the corner of my eye, I could see his jaw tighten, but he didn't push further.

"Marcus has always been trouble," Dorian said suddenly, breaking the silence. "He goes through women like tissues. I wouldn't be surprised if he dies in some woman's bed one day."

I made a noncommittal sound, my mind elsewhere. The scent of Hunter's cologne still clung to me, faint but present. I could still feel the warmth of his embrace, see the shadow of his retreating figure in that private room as I'd slipped out to face Ethan. How different things might have been if I could have stayed with him, if we could walk together in the sunlight without hiding.

I was so tired of this life—living in constant fear, watching every word, analyzing every glance. So tired of being caught between what my heart wanted and what reality demanded.

"Evelyn? Are you listening to me?"

Dorian's voice yanked me back to the present. His hand came to rest on my shoulder, the touch possessive and warm. I immediately tensed, irrationally afraid he could somehow sense Hunter on me, that he would read my thoughts from the rhythm of my pulse.

"What are you doing?" I asked sharply, pushing his hand away.

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Stay away from Marcus," he said finally. "He's craftier than you might think. Even I can't always tell what he's planning."

"Fine," I muttered, turning to stare out the window.

"I mean it, Evelyn. He's dangerous."

"I heard you the first time."

The rest of the drive passed in silence. When we arrived at Blackwood Estate, James was waiting for Dorian by the entrance. I slipped off my shoes in the foyer, ready to escape upstairs, when their conversation caught my attention.

"Those two men we caught after the fire?" James reported in a low voice. "They're still insisting they were sent by the Thompson family."

Dorian frowned. "And they won't break?"

"No, sir. We've tried everything. They've clearly been trained to withstand interrogation."

I froze, my hand on the banister.

"I'm starting to wonder," Dorian mused, "if this whole thing isn't part of some larger plan. Someone might be pulling strings we can't see."

James nodded grimly. "That's possible, sir."

"And what about Ella?" Dorian continued. "Could her actions also be part of this design?"

I couldn't stay silent any longer. "Are you suggesting someone taught her how to slit a man's throat or stab him in the chest?" I asked, my voice sharp with disbelief.

Both men turned to look at me, surprised by my interruption.

"I'm just wondering why," Dorian replied evenly. "After enduring years of abuse, why would she suddenly snap now? The timing seems convenient."

"Even a rabbit will bite when cornered," I said. "She reached her breaking point."

Dorian considered this, then nodded. "Perhaps you're right."

I continued up the stairs, my mind racing. If the Thompson family had indeed tried to kill me with that fire, then the danger was even greater than I'd thought. And now Dorian was questioning Ella's motives, which meant he didn't fully trust my story either.

I made my way to the guest bedroom where Ella was staying, knocking softly before entering. The room was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Ella emerged from beneath the covers, her small face pale and drawn.

"Evelyn," she whispered, relief evident in her voice.

I settled on the window seat, gazing at her with growing concern. "Ella, have you thought about what happens next?"

She nodded, pulling the blanket up to her chin. "I'm going to turn myself in."

"You know I'll support whatever decision you make," I said gently. "I believe in the justice system too."

"Don't worry about me," Ella replied, her voice surprisingly steady. "As long as the Thompsons leave my parents alone, I'll take responsibility for what I did."

"A touching sentiment," came Dorian's voice from the doorway.

I startled, turning to find him leaning against the frame, watching us with those penetrating eyes. "How did you get in here?" I demanded.

Instead of answering, Dorian strode across the room and yanked back Ella's covers. Before I could react, he had grabbed her arm, pulling her from the bed.

"What are you doing?" I cried, jumping to my feet. "Let her go!"

"I need to ask her some questions," Dorian stated firmly, his grip on Ella's arm unyielding. "It won't take long."

"Dorian, stop this!" I moved to intercept him, but he easily maneuvered around me, dragging a frightened Ella into the hallway.

"She'll be fine," he assured me, though his tone offered little comfort. "I just need to clear up a few things."

I followed them up to the third floor, where Dorian led Ella into a room I'd never entered before. When I tried to follow, one of Dorian's security men blocked my path.

Through the doorway, I caught a glimpse of two men seated in chairs, their faces bloodied and swollen. My stomach lurched at the sight.

"Dorian, what are you planning to do?" I asked, panic rising in my throat.

"Relax, Evelyn. I'm just going to ask her some questions." With that, the door closed, leaving me standing helplessly in the hallway.

I slumped against the wall, listening intently to the muffled voices beyond the door. I heard Dorian's cold, calculated tone as he explained to Ella what happened to people who didn't tell the truth—pointing out the men whose teeth had been pulled for their silence.

"Something doesn't add up, Ella," Dorian was saying. "Why would you suddenly have the courage to attack Blake Thompson? What changed?"

There was a long silence, and I pressed closer to the door, straining to hear.

"She's standing right outside, you know," Dorian continued, his voice softer now. "Evelyn has sacrificed a lot for you. She's moved back into this house—a place she despises—all to keep you safe."

My heart clenched at his words, at the truth in them. I had returned to Blackwood Estate, to Dorian, for Ella's protection. But I'd also done it for Hunter, to maintain the fragile web of lies that kept us all safe.

"Someone told me what to do," Ella finally admitted, her voice so faint I could barely make it out. "Someone helped me."