Chapter 293

Chapter 293
Evelyn's POV

The gates of Blackwood Estate stood open like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole. I walked through the courtyard alone, my footsteps echoing against the stone pathways. The place felt different - emptier somehow, despite all the familiar grandeur still being intact.

The front door was ajar, and I pushed it open cautiously. The interior remained unchanged, every piece of furniture in its designated place, but there was something cold and lifeless about it now. Like a museum exhibit rather than a home.

"Dorian?" I called out, my voice bouncing off the high ceilings.

Silence.

I made my way upstairs, my hand trailing along the banister I'd touched countless times before. The hallway stretched before me, and I found myself at his bedroom door. I knocked twice.

"Dorian?"

"What are you shouting for?" came his muffled voice from within. "Don't you know patients are weak when they're sick? Can't waste energy on loud talking."

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dim, curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. Dorian lay sprawled across the bed, covers pulled up to his chin, looking for all the world like he was on death's door.

I deliberately stayed near the doorway, keeping as much distance between us as possible.

"Well?" he said, not bothering to lift his head. "Aren't you supposed to examine me? How can you diagnose anything from way over there?"

I crossed my arms. "I can see you're breathing just fine."

"Come on, Doctor Ashford. Don't you need to do that whole... what do you call it? The looking, listening, asking, touching thing?"

Despite myself, I moved closer to the window and yanked the curtains open. Sunlight flooded the room, making him groan dramatically.

"Too bright," he complained, pulling the covers over his head like a child.

I rolled my eyes and headed back downstairs to fetch the medical kit. The familiar weight of it in my hands brought back memories I'd rather forget - all those times I'd played house here, thinking I could make this place feel like home.

Back in the bedroom, I opened the kit and immediately noticed something wrong. Half the medications were ones I'd left here months ago - all expired now. The thermometer was the same one I'd used on him before, and even the bandages looked familiar.

I grabbed a bottle of over-the-counter cold medication and shook out two pills.

"Here," I said, holding them out. "You don't have anything serious. Just a cold. Take these."

Dorian propped himself up on his elbows, studying the pills in my palm. "That's it? That's your professional medical opinion?"

"I'm the doctor, you're the patient. I'm the one with the expertise here."

He picked up one pill, examining it closely. "The recommended dosage for an adult male my size would be at least three of these. You're giving me two."

"The instructions say two pills every four hours."

"The instructions also say to take them with food, and you haven't asked if I've eaten today."

I shrugged. "Have you eaten today?"

"No."

"Then don't take them yet. Problem solved."

Before I could step away, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me down onto the edge of the bed. I found myself trapped between his body and the headboard, close enough to smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating from his skin.

"You want to do something to me," I said, pressing my free hand against his chest to maintain some distance. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and I'm telling you to stop while you're ahead."

"What exactly do you think I'm thinking?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"You know exactly what."

"Do I? Why don't you spell it out for me?"

I stared at him, my heart pounding. "You know."

He chuckled, settling back against the pillows. "I'm just a sick man lying in bed, Doctor. Very innocent. Very boring. Maybe you should give me that injection instead."

I fumbled through the kit for a syringe and a vial of medication. "Fine. Give me your arm."

He extended his right arm, rolling up his sleeve to expose the inside of his elbow. I prepared the injection, my hands steady despite the tension crackling between us. When I inserted the needle into his skin, he didn't even flinch.

But instead of depressing the plunger, I stopped. The needle sat there, piercing his flesh, but I couldn't bring myself to push the medication into his bloodstream.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked calmly.

I tried to withdraw the needle, but his other hand covered mine, his fingers pressing down on the plunger. The medication began to flow into his system.

"Dorian, if you want to die, don't drag me down with you!" I yanked my hand back, pulling the needle free. His arm was already starting to swell at the injection site.

"Interesting," he said, examining his arm with detached curiosity. "So you can stick the needle in, but you can't follow through."

"Is this entertaining for you?" I demanded. "Playing these sick games?"

"I just wanted to see if you could actually do it. If you could hurt me when it mattered."

"The only reason I don't hurt you is because I don't want to go to prison for it."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, moving toward me with predatory grace. "You keep saying I want to 'do something' to you. What exactly are you so afraid of?"

The question hung in the air between us. I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again. Because the truth was too complicated, too dangerous to voice.

"You're going to Apex Innovations next, aren't you?" I said instead. "Going to cause trouble there too?"

His eyes glittered. "Maybe."

"Don't!" The word burst out of me before I could stop it.

He stepped closer, reaching up to touch my face. I slapped his hand away.

"Even if I did do something... inappropriate," he said softly, "would you really be able to stop me?"

"I'd rather we both go down together than let you keep doing this."

"Admirable sentiment." He braced his hands on either side of me against the wall, trapping me in place. "You snuck out to come here today, didn't you? Hunter has no idea where you are."

Before I could answer, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Blake appeared in the doorway, and I immediately noticed the angry red scar across his throat - fresh, still healing.

"Well, well," Blake said with a cold smile. "How lovely to see you again."

I straightened my shoulders. "Blake."

"I hear your boyfriend has been busy lately," he continued, his fingers unconsciously moving to touch the scar on his neck. "Very busy indeed."

"Whatever happened to you has nothing to do with us," I said firmly.

Blake laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, but it does. You see, Hunter's little power play cost both the Thompson family and us quite a bit in the Sunset Ridge Estates deal. We lost a lot of money."

"That's not our fault."

"Isn't it?" Blake's voice turned dangerous. "Your precious Hunter is riding high right now, but when he falls - and he will fall - it's going to be spectacular. Very, very spectacular."