Chapter 294

Chapter 294
Evelyn's POV

I barely had time to process Blake’s words before the air in the room shifted, heavy with the weight of his accusation. I opened my mouth to respond, but Dorian’s voice cut through the haze.

“Enough, Blake,” he said, his tone sharp but weary, like he was tired of playing games. He’d risen from the bed, his movements slow but deliberate, no longer the frail patient he’d been pretending to be moments ago. “Get out.”

Blake’s cold smile didn’t falter, but his eyes flicked to Dorian, then back to me, as if weighing his next move. “You think you can just dismiss me? After everything?”

“I said, get out.” Dorian’s voice dropped to a dangerous low, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of hesitation in Blake’s expression. He lingered in the doorway, fingers still brushing the scar on his throat, before he turned and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps fading into the cavernous silence of Blackwood Estate.

I stood frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as Dorian’s presence loomed larger. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

“Evelyn, we need to talk,” he said, his voice softer now, but urgent. “And we don’t have much time.”

“I need to go,” I said quickly, turning toward the door. My mind was a tangle of Blake’s cryptic threats and Dorian’s sudden shift in demeanor. I needed air, space, something to ground me before I drowned in the chaos of this place.

But before I could take another step, Dorian’s hand closed around my wrist—not rough like before, but firm, anchoring me in place. “No. You’re not leaving until you hear me out.”

I yanked my arm back, but his grip held steady, not painful but unyielding. “Let me go, Dorian. I’m done with your games.”

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice low and raw. “Not anymore.”

I glared at him, my pulse racing. “Then what is it? Because all I see is you and Blake and Hunter and everyone else playing me like a pawn in some twisted chess match.”

He released my wrist but didn’t step back. Instead, he moved closer, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to find something he’d lost. “Evelyn, I need you to listen to me. Really listen. Because if you walk out that door without knowing the truth, you’re walking straight into a trap.”

I crossed my arms, trying to keep the distance between us, but the weight of his words settled into my bones. “What truth? That you’re all liars? That this whole estate is just a stage for whatever drama you’re all acting out?”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, the gesture so familiar it sent a pang through my chest. “I didn’t sleep with Sage,” he said bluntly.

I froze, the words hitting me like a punch. “What?”

“That night you think something happened—it didn’t. I was drugged, Evelyn. Someone slipped something into my drink, and I was out cold. Nothing happened.”

I stared at him, my mind scrambling to keep up. “Drugged? You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” he said, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “That’s why I’m showing you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen a few times before turning it toward me. “Watch this.”

The security footage was grainy but clear enough to make out every damning detail. It showed an unfamiliar man—one of Dorian's associates—half-dragging an obviously drugged Dorian down the hotel hallway. Dorian's head lolled forward, his steps uncoordinated, barely conscious as the man shoved him into a room.

Then Sage appeared.

My hands clenched into fists as I watched my sister—who I'd always known was faking her disability—glance both ways before slipping into the room. The interior camera angle revealed everything: Sage stripping off her own clothes with practiced ease, then methodically removing Dorian's shirt and pants while he lay motionless on the bed. She pulled out her phone, angling for suggestive photos of them together.

Bile rose in my throat as she climbed onto the bed, positioning herself over Dorian's unconscious form. But then—

"Evelyn... no!" Dorian's voice was slurred but vehement, his hand weakly pushing at Sage's shoulder. "I can't... won't betray her... get off me!"

Sage froze, her face twisting in shock and fury. For a moment, she seemed to consider forcing the issue, but Dorian's mumbled protests grew more insistent, his body tensing despite the drugs in his system. Finally, with a hissed curse, she grabbed her clothes and fled.

The timestamp showed she didn't return until just before dawn, slipping back into the room moments before Dorian began stirring. She arranged herself artfully beside him, the perfect picture of post-coital intimacy, ensuring he'd wake to the exact illusion she wanted to create.

Now the truth was laid bare—Dorian had never willingly touched her. He'd fought his compromised state, called out my name even in his drugged stupor. A few days later, he summoned Sage and forced contraceptive pills into her mouth—ensuring she could never trap him with false claims of pregnancy. His disgust cut through the lingering haze of that night, cold and deliberate.

The screen went dark, but the image of Dorian resisting Sage burned behind my eyes. All this time, he'd believed the worst of himself, carrying guilt for something that never happened. Now he stood beside me, his breathing uneven, the weight of this revelation pressing down on us both.

"I never..." His voice broke. "Evelyn, I swear I never—"