Chapter 227

**Evelyn's POV**

As Riley led me away from Dorian, I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders, if only temporarily. The coffee shop around the corner was a cozy little place with mismatched furniture and the rich aroma of freshly ground beans. Several people were working on laptops while others chatted in hushed voices. It felt normal – something my life had been lacking.

"Thank God," Riley sighed once we were seated in a quiet corner. Her fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing tightly. "I've been worried sick about you."

I smiled, trying to ease her concern. "I missed you, Riley."

"Three years, Evelyn. Three whole years." Her eyes welled up. "Where did you go? What happened to you?"

I pulled my hand back, my throat tightening. "I'm here now, aren't I? That's what matters."

Riley leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Your condition... how did you survive? The doctors said—"

"I don't want to talk about it," I cut her off, the memories threatening to surface. "Those thousand days were too painful. I can't bear to think about them."

She nodded slowly, her eyes studying me with the intensity of someone trying to memorize a face they feared might disappear again.

"Then tell me why you're still with him," she said, venom creeping into her tone. "After everything he did."

"I'm not," I replied firmly. "We're not together, and we never will be again. Don't worry about that."

Riley didn't look convinced, but she didn't press further. I seized the opportunity to change the subject.

"What about you? Are you married?"

"No," she chuckled, shaking her head.

"Boyfriend?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. "Sort of."

Before I could ask for details, a server approached our table. I ordered two coffees and a pastry, grateful for the interruption.

As the server walked away, I heard a chair scrape against the floor. Looking up, I found myself staring into the face of Ethan Reynolds. His presence felt like an intrusion into the small bubble of normalcy I'd been enjoying.

"Mind if I join?" he asked, already sitting down.

I signaled the server, adding another coffee to our order. "Long time no see, Ethan."

His eyes were cold as they assessed me. "Mrs. Blackwood. What a... pleasant surprise."

"It's Dr. Ashford," I corrected him.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, a smug smile playing on his lips. "The Thompson family is targeting me, and we both know why."

"And how is that my problem?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

"Because you have Ella. Hand her over, and this all goes away. It's better for everyone."

I raised an eyebrow. "Better for you, you mean. What about Starlight Lounge? You weren't concerned about consequences when you were all running wild there, were you?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "You're one to talk. Look at you, running back to Dorian's protection the minute things get tough."

Riley reached across the table, gripping his arm. "That's enough, Ethan."

He jerked away from her touch. "You consider her a friend. You've been going to Dorian for years trying to help her. But what does she consider you? Did she even contact you once she came back?"

"Stop it," I warned, my patience wearing thin.

"You claim you're not with him," Ethan continued, ignoring me. "But do you even know how he lived after your 'death'? While you were supposedly suffering, he was living it up."

"I don't care how he spent these years," I said, though something cold twisted in my stomach.

"Oh really?" Ethan pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen. "Maybe you should see this then."

He turned the phone towards me, and I steeled myself, believing my emotional walls were built high and strong, impenetrable.

The video showed Dorian in a private room at Starlight Lounge, women pressed against him on both sides. His face showed no trace of grief – he was laughing, carefree, as though he didn't have a worry in the world. As I watched, he pulled one woman onto his lap, his lips trailing along her collarbone and shoulder.

I could hear my heart shatter, the sound reverberating in my ears. My carefully constructed defenses crumbled like sand.

I knocked the phone away, the hard case hitting a vase on our table. Only then did I notice my hands were trembling. I clenched them into fists, digging my nails into my palms.

"Careful there," Ethan said, retrieving his phone. "These are expensive."

The server arrived with our coffees, breaking the tension. As I reached for my cup, I noticed something tucked beneath the saucer – a small SIM card. I carefully slid it between my fingers, wondering who had placed it there and why.

I was about to insert it into my new phone when a sharp tap on the window beside us made me jump. Dorian stood outside, his expression thunderous. Ethan quickly pocketed his phone.

"What does he want?" I asked, voice stiff.

Dorian pointed to his watch, clearly impatient.

I slid open the small window. "I haven't even had a sip of my coffee yet."

"What is he doing here?" Dorian demanded, glaring at Ethan.

"He's Riley's boyfriend," I replied. "We're catching up."

Dorian's eyes narrowed. "It's been almost an hour. We need to go."

"If you're in such a hurry, you can leave without me," I said coldly.

"I'm coming in," he announced.

"No," I said firmly. "You're not welcome here."

His jaw tightened. "Evelyn—"

"Not everyone jumps when you snap your fingers, Dorian," I interrupted. "Come to think of it, hardly anyone genuinely likes you."

I slammed the window shut and locked it, turning back to the table. The weight of the SIM card felt heavy in my palm, and Ethan's video replayed in my mind. All this time, I'd been protecting myself from memories of pain, but now I wondered if I also needed protection from the present.

Riley reached across the table, covering my trembling hand with hers. "Are you okay?"