Chapter 292

The online storm showed no signs of calming down.

Views and comments skyrocketed as the viral video spread like wildfire across every platform.

Evelyn Sinclair had nearly recovered and was preparing to leave the hospital.

Despite layers of disguises—oversized sunglasses, a wide-brimmed hat, and a face mask—she was recognized the moment she stepped outside.

Reporters swarmed her like vultures, microphones thrust forward.

"Ms. Sinclair, are the accounts of your survival true?"

"Ms. Sinclair, what would you like to say after enduring such an ordeal?"

"Do you believe the plane crash was truly an accident?"

"Will you be pursuing a relationship with Adrian Blackwood?"

The barrage of questions was relentless. Cameras flashed incessantly, blocking the hospital entrance.

Bodyguards formed a tight circle around Evelyn and Lucas Sterling, shielding them from the frenzy.

The crowd was suffocating. Lucas, accustomed to the spotlight, knew these reporters wouldn’t back down easily.

His patience wore thin.

Without hesitation, he pulled Evelyn close and strode toward the waiting black Bentley limousine.

But Evelyn suddenly stopped.

She lifted her head, revealing striking eyes that shimmered with an unexpected sorrow.

The crowd fell silent, waiting.

Her voice was hoarse but clear.

"I’m grateful for everyone’s concern, but please—stop focusing on me."

A pause.

"Because... there were over thirty people on that plane who weren’t as fortunate as I was."

Her words hung heavy in the air.

"Every time this story resurfaces, their families relive the pain."

With that, she bowed deeply.

The once-chaotic atmosphere turned somber.

Evelyn said nothing else. Lucas guided her into the car, his grip protective.

Her survival wasn’t just a miracle—it was a reminder of loss.

She was the sole survivor.

Her brief statement resonated deeply online.

Adrian Blackwood even took down his trending video in response.

(You can truly see someone’s character in moments like this. Evelyn is a queen for thinking of others during her own trauma.)

(A heart of gold and beauty to match. Marry me, Evelyn!)

(I’m a family member of one of the victims. We believe they’re still out there, just like Ms. Sinclair was. She’s our hope.)

This last comment was pinned to the top with thousands of likes.

Evelyn, now with a new phone, saw it immediately.

She replied:

"No matter the distance—time, space, or oceans—they’ll find their way back. Thank you for never giving up."

Perhaps her words had power, or perhaps the platform intervened, but the frenzy finally died down.

Reporters no longer camped outside Sterling Tower.

For the first time in weeks, Evelyn had peace.

She didn’t rush back to work.

Maybe the desert had drained her.

Now, she indulged—shopping, yachting, binge-watching dramas with her father.

William Sterling spoiled her endlessly.

Fishing trips. Lavish parties. No expense spared.

Life was blissful.

Until an unknown number flashed on her screen.

Assuming it was a friend with a new phone, she answered cheerfully.

"Hey! Who’s this?"

A beat of silence.

Then, a deep, achingly familiar voice.

"Nathan Blackwood."

Click.

Evelyn hung up.

Nathan stared at his phone, jaw clenched.

The call had lasted three seconds.

He’d been overseas, buried in work, forcing himself not to think of her.

Not to worry about her recovery—physical or emotional.

But he no longer had the right.

He’d watched Adrian’s video on loop.

Each viewing felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

The world praised her bravery.

Only he saw the fear behind her strength.

Fresh off his flight, he’d caved and borrowed his driver’s phone to call her.

This was the result.