Chapter 331

Evelyn Sinclair was at her wit's end.

Why was Nathan Blackwood clinging to her like some persistent insect that refused to be shaken off? She wanted to scream at him for his sheer audacity.

Nathan's grip on her wrist was unyielding, his voice icy and resolute. "Evelyn, whether you believe me or not, I regret everything. If I could just—"

She cut him off sharply, the pain in her eyes impossible to conceal any longer.

"Nathan Blackwood, I've spent years haunted by nightmares of the past."

Her voice trembled. "From the moment I met you, I haven't known a single day of true happiness. I don't regret saving you, but for the love of God, I'm begging you—let it go. Stop dragging us back into that hell."

Nathan's regret meant nothing to her. It didn't erase the three years of torment she had endured. If anything, it was almost laughable.

His entire body stiffened at her words.

The raw agony in her voice, the way her eyes glistened with unshed tears—it shook him to his core. He couldn't even bring himself to meet her gaze.

All that suffering... and he had been oblivious to it.

Evelyn studied his profile—the sharp jawline, the straight nose, the perfectly sculpted features that had once made her heart race.

She had been obsessed with him, drowning in a love she couldn't escape.

Now? All she wanted was distance.

Quickly schooling her expression, she turned away, forcing a cold smile.

"You don't need to apologize. You don't need to regret anything. It's over. Just... move on."

She assumed his remorse stemmed from guilt—now that he knew why she couldn't swim, why she had panicked that night.

But it didn't matter.

Her love for him had been one-sided from the start, born from the moment he had thrown himself in front of her on the streets of Paris.

She didn’t want to revisit that memory.

Without another word, she turned and slipped into the Sterling family car.

Nathan wanted to chase after her, but his feet remained rooted to the ground.

The way she had looked at him—so distant, so unfamiliar—made him question what right he had to stop her.

He watched in silence as the car disappeared down the street, then turned and walked away.

Velvet Lounge

Nathan pushed open the door to the private room, the lively chatter inside coming to an abrupt halt.

Tristan Whitmore stood up in surprise.

"Blackwood? I thought you had dinner plans with Evelyn and her family. What are you doing here?"

Their group of close friends met regularly, and Nathan usually attended without fail.

But tonight, he had declined, proudly declaring he had prior engagements—with Evelyn.

At the mention of her name, Nathan's expression darkened.

His chest ached as if struck by a sledgehammer.

Without a word, he grabbed a bottle of vodka and tilted his head back, drinking deeply.

The room fell silent.

The air around him was thick with bitterness and cold fury.

"Mr. Blackwood... did something happen? Did Evelyn upset you again?"

One of the more oblivious socialites in their circle spoke up, having heard Tristan mention Nathan's constant struggles with Evelyn.

Nathan's grip on the bottle tightened, his gaze turning glacial.

Tristan groaned internally.

Before he could intervene, the man continued, smirking.

"Honestly, that woman has no shame. She's just a divorcee you discarded. The fact that you even glance her way is a privilege, and she dares to treat you like this?"

Tristan buried his face in his hands.

"You idiot..."

Under the dim lighting, Nathan slowly lifted his head.

His eyes burned with a dangerous, feral intensity as they locked onto the man.

Then—

He slammed the bottle down onto the table with a deafening crash.