Chapter 241

**Evelyn’s POV**

The door rattled harder, Hunter’s voice slicing through the haze. “Evelyn? Are you in there?” His tone was sharp, edged with worry—and something darker.

Dorian’s eyes locked on mine, that smoldering intensity still burning, but the spell broke like a snapped wire. My heart jackhammered, caught between the man pinning me with his gaze and the one pounding on the door. Shit, shit, shit. I shoved Dorian back, scrambling off the table, my torn gown flapping against my thigh. The bite mark on my shoulder throbbed, a brutal reminder of what just happened—what I’d let happen.

“Evelyn!” Hunter’s shout grew louder, fists banging now.

Dorian smirked, wiping his lip like we’d just shared a casual drink, not a soul-shaking kiss. “Guess your knight’s here to save you. Too late, huh?”

“Shut up,” I hissed, yanking my dress up to cover the mess he’d made of me. My hands shook as I smoothed my hair, trying to erase the evidence of my betrayal. But that mark on my neck—red, raw, undeniable—screamed the truth.

The lock clicked, and the door flew open. Hunter stormed in, his face a storm cloud—eyes wide, then narrowing as they landed on Dorian, then me. His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching under the strain. “What the hell is this?” His voice was low, lethal, cutting through the air like a blade.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Dorian stepped forward, all casual arrogance, adjusting his cufflinks. “Just a little chat with my wife, Hunter. You know, catching up.”

“Ex-wife,” Hunter snapped, stepping between us, his broad frame a wall. “And you don’t get to touch her.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me toward him, his grip firm but not cruel. His eyes flicked to my neck, and I saw it—the flash of hurt, the betrayal sinking in. “Evelyn, what did he do to you?”

I yanked free, shame and anger warring inside me. “It’s not what you think—” Liar, my brain screamed. It was exactly what he thought, and worse.

“Save it,” Hunter said, voice cracking like ice. “We’re leaving. Now.” He didn’t wait for my protest, steering me out, his hand on my back like a tether. I glanced back—Dorian stood there, hands in his pockets, that damn smirk still plastered on, but his eyes… they were dark, unreadable. He let me go.

The ride back to Hunter’s place was silent, the hum of the engine filling the void. I stared out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks, my mind replaying Dorian’s lips, his teeth, his words: You will always be mine. Hunter’s knuckles whitened on the wheel, but he didn’t speak. When we got inside, he finally turned to me, his face softer but strained.

“We’re getting married,” he said, like it was a fact, not a question. “Next week. I’m not letting him ruin us.”

I blinked, numb. “Hunter, I—”

“No, Evelyn.” He took my hands, his touch warm, steady—everything Dorian wasn’t. “I’ve got my company back, my life back, because of you. We’re good together. We work. Whatever that was tonight, it’s over. You’re with me now.”

His certainty should’ve anchored me. He was safe, solid—my rock through the chaos. But my tongue felt heavy, my chest hollow. “Okay,” I mumbled, staring at our clasped hands. What am I doing?

Two days later, I was walking down Rodeo Drive, the sun harsh on my face, my mind a mess. The wedding loomed, Hunter’s quiet resolve pressing on me, but Dorian’s kiss lingered like a brand. I stepped off the curb, lost in thought, when a horn blared. A black SUV barreled toward me, tires screaming, headlights glaring. My legs locked, breath gone—death staring me down.

“Evelyn!” Dorian’s roar shattered the silence, primal and terrified. He burst from the crowd, wheelchair abandoned, dragging himself on his arms with a speed I didn’t know he had. His body slammed into mine, shoving me back—I hit the asphalt hard, pain jolting through my spine. The SUV smashed into him instead, a bone-crunching thud that stopped my heart. He flew, landing in a broken heap, legs splayed unnaturally, blood pooling fast.

“No, no, no!” I crawled to him, sobbing, hands cupping his pale face. “Dorian, please—stay with me!” His eyes fluttered, blood trickling from his mouth, staining that grin I loved and hated.

“Had to… keep you safe,” he rasped, voice fading. “Love you…” His head lolled, unconscious, and I screamed, clutching him as strangers rushed in.

Paramedics tore me away, loading him onto a stretcher. I rode with him, gripping his limp hand, tears soaking my shirt. His legs—oh God, his legs—were mangled, crushed beyond saving. Hours later, the doctor confirmed it: amputated mid-thigh, emergency surgery, stable but broken. Because of me. He gave up everything for me.

I sat by his bed, his chest rising slow under the hospital sheet, face bruised but still him—still my Dorian. The man who’d raced into traffic, who’d thrown his life at mine without a second thought. Not the playboy, not the monster—the man who loved me enough to bleed for it. My sobs broke free, loud and ugly, shaking me to my core. I can’t lose him. I can’t pretend anymore.

Hunter found me there, his face hardening as he saw my hand in Dorian’s. “Evelyn, what is this?”

“He saved my life,” I choked out, tears streaming. “He lost his legs for me, Hunter. I can’t leave him.”

“You’re still choosing him?” His voice cracked, raw with hurt. “After all he’s done?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, pulling away. “I just… I have to stay.”

He stared, then nodded, ice in his eyes. “Fine. But we’re still getting married. You’ll see—he’s nothing.” He left, and I turned back to Dorian, my heart splitting open.

The next week blurred—dress fittings, caterers, Hunter’s forced smiles. I drifted through it, hollow, my soul stuck in that hospital room. Dorian woke the day before the wedding, weak but fierce. “Don’t marry him,” he croaked, grabbing my arm. “You’re mine, Evelyn. You felt it—on that table, in that kiss. I’d die for you. I damn near did.”

I pulled back, tears spilling. “I can’t deal with this now.” But his words sank claws into me, tugging every step to the altar.

The wedding day came—April 4, 2025. Malibu, ocean roaring, white roses stark against the sleek venue. I stood before the mirror, ivory gown clinging, veil ghostly. Riley fixed my train, grinning. “You’re stunning, Ev. Hunter’s lucky.”

“Yeah,” I said, voice dead, staring at myself. My neck was bare—the mark gone, but Dorian’s sacrifice pulsed in my veins. I love Hunter, I lied. He’s good. My hands shook.

The ceremony began, music swelling as I walked the aisle. Hunter waited, tux crisp, eyes warm with trust I’d betrayed. Guests smiled—Riley beaming. I reached him, his hands steady on mine. The officiant spoke—vows, forever.

“Do you, Evelyn, take Hunter to be your lawfully wedded husband?”