Chapter 13: A Fleeting Moment of Tenderness
“Come home with me,” Damian commanded, stepping forward to grab her wrist.
“Mr. Damian Green,” a calm voice sounded from the doorway. “This is private property. Your current behavior is illegal trespass, and I can call the police and have you arrested.”
Ethan was standing at the door, holding up his phone. The screen displayed the emergency call interface.
He stood in front of Evelyn, his gaze calm and resolute.
Damian’s fury peaked at the sight of Ethan, but the word “police” brought his last shred of reason back.
He could not afford to escalate the situation.
“Fine, very good.” He glared fiercely at the pale-faced Evelyn, then turned to the unflinching Ethan, “Do you think he can protect you forever? Evelyn, this is not over.”
Damian and the two bodyguards turned and disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind a ruined room and a deadly silence.
Ethan closed the smashed door and braced it with a chair.
He turned to look at Evelyn, who was huddled in the corner, her face white as a sheet of paper.
“Evelyn, are you alright?” he asked.
Evelyn shook her head, then nodded, her thoughts a tangled mess.
She tried to speak, but her throat felt blocked. She could not utter a complete syllable.
She held the wall, trying to steady herself.
“Your hand.”
Evelyn subconsciously tried to hide her hand behind her back, but it was too late.
The wound on the back of her hand, crushed by the high heel tip, was half-dried with blood, and the surrounding skin was visibly swollen, looking horrifying.
Ethan’s expression darkened.
He helped her sit on the sofa, then turned to retrieve the first aid kit.
He knelt before her and opened the box. The bottles and jars inside were neatly organized.
He took out tweezers, disinfectant, and cotton balls, his movements practiced.
“It might sting a little. Bear with it,”
The moment the cold medicine touched the wound, Evelyn gasped in pain.
Her body tensed, and that familiar, dragging pain in her abdomen began to surge again.
“Did Damian do this?”
“Sienna.”
She did not need to explain further.
That name was enough to clarify everything.
Ethan did not press the issue, only cleaning her wound in silence, and even more gently.
His fingers were warm and dry. When they touched her icy skin, they seemed to possess a strange, calming power.
This was completely different from Damian’s touch, which always carried a sense of possession and plunder.
After treating the wound, he carefully bandaged it, finishing with a neatly tied knot.
“Thank you,” Evelyn whispered.
“Are you hungry? I will cook you something,” Ethan stood up and began tidying the first aid kit.
Evelyn shook her head.
She had no appetite. Her mind was focused only on the email and Damian’s final, poisoned threat.
“I...” Evelyn looked up at Ethan, who was pouring water in the kitchen. “I must go to Brooklyn.”
Ethan walked over with a cup of warm water and handed it to her.
“I know. It is Professor Hays’s second-round defense, right?”
Evelyn was slightly surprised.
“I have always followed Professor Hays’s activities,” Ethan explained, a bitter smile on his face. “When you dropped out all those years ago, everyone thought it was a terrible loss. I just... did not want your talent to be buried.”
That simple statement, “did not want,” easily struck the softest spot in Evelyn’s heart.
For eight years, all Damian had done was personally bury her talent and dreams.
“But how can I go?” Despair seeped into Evelyn’s voice. “Damian will have people watching my movements. He will not let me leave. I do not have a penny right now, and my identification documents are still in that house.”
Ethan sat down on the other end of the sofa, separated from her by a throw pillow.
“There is always a way,”
A faint light ignited in Evelyn’s eyes.
“You have one week until the review,” Ethan continued. “During this time, I will figure out a way to get you new identification and arrange the safest route to send you to Brooklyn.”
His tone was indisputable, as if stating an established fact.
Evelyn stared at him, speechless for a moment.
They were merely college acquaintances who had met a few times, yet he was extending help to her again and again, even risking antagonizing Damian for her sake.
“Why?” she could not help but ask. “Doing this for me is too dangerous.”
Ethan was silent for a moment, his gaze shifting from her face to her bandaged hand, and finally returning to her eyes.
“Eight years ago, at the graduation design exhibition, I saw your work,” he said slowly. “I thought then that the world of a person who could design such work should be free and brilliant.”
“I do not want those hands, which should be creating beauty, to be crushed in the mud.”
Just as the brief moment of warmth settled, Ethan’s phone rang. The harsh ringtone shattered the quiet of the studio.
Ethan glanced at the caller ID, his brow instantly furrowing. He said only a few brief words when he answered the phone.
“What is the situation? Good, I am coming right away.”
Hanging up, an apologetic look crossed his face. “I am sorry, Evelyn. The hospital has an emergency. I have to go.”
Evelyn nodded, watching him hurry away.
The studio returned to silence, but this time, the air felt less oppressive.
Evelyn opened the laptop Ethan had left behind and began organizing the materials she needed for the defense.
She had to seize this opportunity. It was her only chance.
The screen’s light reflected on her focused face. She immersed herself in the logic and details of the design proposal, trying to isolate herself from all outside distractions.
After a while, her phone buzzed.
A text message from an anonymous number popped up: “Ethan had a car accident on Hudson Street. He looks badly hurt.”
Evelyn’s fingertips instantly turned cold.
Hudson Street...
That was the direction Ethan was heading toward the hospital.
Her hand was no longer steady. She tremblingly found Ethan’s name in her contacts and dialed.
A monotonous, long "beep, beep" sounded in the receiver, one after another, like hammering on her heart.
No answer.
The call automatically transferred to voicemail.
“Hello, this is Ethan. I am unable to take your call right now...”
Why would he not answer?
If the text was fake, he would pick up immediately.
Unless... unless something truly had happened to him.