Chapter 225

**Evelyn's POV**

The rain continued to fall as we made our way inside Blackwood Estate. I could feel Dorian's eyes on my back, filled with that dangerous mixture of concern and suspicion. His security team had taken the arsonists away, and now silence settled over us like another layer of ash.

Ella clung to my arm, her thin body trembling. I squeezed her shoulders reassuringly, but kept my face expressionless. If Dorian started connecting dots, if he realized Hunter might be involved...

As we entered the mansion, James approached Dorian with a tablet in hand, his face grim. "Sir, we've reviewed the security footage. Someone breached the east wing before setting the fire."

Dorian's jaw tightened. "Show me."

They huddled over the tablet, their voices dropping to murmurs. I watched them for a moment, then turned to Ella.

"Let's get you settled. You need rest."

"Evelyn," Dorian called before I could escape.

"What?"

"We need to talk about this."

"I'm tired, Dorian. I'm exhausted. I want to sleep." My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

He stepped closer. "Are you really not affected by any of this? The conservatory meant something to us."

"To us? Or to you?" I met his gaze coldly. Without waiting for his response, I continued up the stairs.

If the entire Blackwood Estate burned to the ground, I wouldn't shed a tear. These walls held his memories, not mine. Mine were buried in Evergreen Valley, in a life I'd been forced to abandon.

There had never been sweetness between us, just a bitter hatred that made my teeth ache. Every possessive glance reminded me of all I'd lost.

I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes, the room was dark. Ella's soft breathing told me she was asleep. Something pulled me toward the west wing balcony. As I approached, I saw Dorian's silhouette against the night sky, staring down at the blackened skeleton of his conservatory.

"You saw her reaction," I heard him say to James. "Nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion. If this entire place burned to the ground, she wouldn't feel a thing."

James shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, she's been through a traumatic experience."

Dorian laughed bitterly. "Haven't we all."

I retreated silently. Let him suffer. Let him feel a fraction of what I'd endured.

\---

Morning brought chaos to Blackwood Estate. I sat in the window seat, watching people stream in and out of the house. Workers measuring windows, gardeners assessing damage, construction teams surveying the conservatory ruins. The buzz of activity drifted up through the floorboards.

Ella still slept soundly. The door swung open without warning, and I jumped to my feet. Dorian stood in the doorway, freshly showered and impeccably dressed.

"Get out," I hissed, pushing him toward the door. "Ella's still sleeping."

He allowed himself to be moved into the hallway, his eyes never leaving my face. "You need to get ready. I'm taking you out."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Yes, you are." His tone left no room for argument.

I crossed my arms. "I don't need anything."

"Clothing? Makeup? Ain't you phoneless now? If I ain't mistaken, it got taken by Blake's grandpa, right?"

The mention of a phone caught my attention. A connection to the outside world, to Hunter, to escape. "Fine. A phone. That's all I need."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Ella will be safe here. My security will make sure of it. You've been cooped up in these rooms for days. Don't you want to get out for a while?"

I did. God help me, I did. Evelyn was going crazy being locked away like this.

"The nearest mall," I conceded. "Quick trip. In and out."

\---

The shopping district in this part of Los Angeles catered to people with too much money and too little sense. Dorian reached for my hand as we walked from the car. I pulled away, shoving my hands into my coat pockets.

"Don't," I warned.

He frowned, then abruptly thrust his hand into my pocket, grabbing mine. The seam tore slightly.

"What are you doing?" I tried to pull away.

"Holding my wife's hand," he replied, lacing his fingers through mine inside the damaged pocket. "Is that a crime?"

We must have looked ridiculous walking like that—me with my arm awkwardly bent, him with his hand stuffed into my torn pocket.

The phone store was sleek and minimalist. I headed straight for the mid-range models.

"This one is fine," I said, pointing to a perfectly adequate smartphone.

Dorian shook his head. "No. You'll take the latest model."

"I don't need—"

"It has better security features. After what happened, that's non-negotiable."

When the salesperson rang up the purchase, I spoke up. "I'll pay you back for this."

Dorian's jaw tightened. "That won't be necessary."

"I remember my bank account number. Once I set up the payment app, I'll transfer the money to you."

"Why are you being difficult? Is it so wrong for me to buy things for you?"

"What's wrong, rich boy? Don't you enjoy throwing money around?" The words tasted bitter. "Isn't that your favorite hobby?"

His eyes flashed. "You've never asked me for a cent."

"And you never offered one when I needed it." The memories surfaced—me counting pennies for medicine, working extra shifts to cover hospital bills. While all along, he had been lavishing money on his mistresses.

The salesperson handed over the phone, looking uncomfortable.

We rode the escalator down to the ground floor in tense silence. I was ready to leave, but Dorian had other ideas.

"We're not done," he said, steering me toward another section of the mall.

A line of people caught my attention—young women and men queuing outside a small shop.

"What's that?" I asked, nodding toward the line.

Dorian's expression softened. "They sell those specialty pastries you used to like."

I blinked in confusion. I had no idea what he was talking about. Before I could correct him, he was already approaching a young woman who had just exited the shop, a small pink box in her hands.

"Excuse me," Dorian said with that smooth charm he reserved for strangers. "Would you be willing to sell that?"

The woman looked startled. "What?"

"I'd pay well above retail price," he continued, pulling out his wallet. "My wife has been craving these."

I wanted to sink through the floor as people began to stare.

"How much are you talking?" the woman asked, curiosity overcoming her surprise.

"Ten thousand for the box," Dorian replied without hesitation.

The woman's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You're crazy!" she exclaimed, backing away. "Absolute nutcase!"

The people in line were now openly watching us, some snickering. I grabbed Dorian's arm and pulled him away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"What is wrong with you?" I hissed. "You can't just throw money at everything!"

He looked genuinely confused. "I was trying to get you something you'd enjoy."

"By humiliating us both? I don't even like whatever those were!"

"But you used to—"