Chapter 443

Gregory Wilson pulled a brand-new desk lamp from his toolbox and swiftly dismantled it.

The lamp base felt heavy in his grip. He stood there holding the shopping bag and lamp frame for so long his knuckles turned white.

Evelyn Carter lingered at the bedroom doorway, fingertips pressed against the doorframe, refusing to budge.

"I'll have it fixed soon," Gregory said gently, his gaze dropping to her pale fingers.

She shook her head. "You're a surgeon. Your hands matter more than a lamp."

He paused. "Then this lamp—"

"Out with the old, in with the new," she replied flatly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The toolbox clicked shut. Gregory's throat tightened as the lamp suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

He should've known Evelyn would see through his flimsy excuse. He just hadn't expected to be exposed in less than two days.

"Sorry," he rasped. "Disturbing you again."

"Drive safe," Evelyn said from the entryway, offering no polite invitation to stay.

White Coat suddenly lunged forward, clamping onto Gregory's pant leg with desperate whimpers. The puppy couldn't understand why the man who'd just returned was leaving again.

"White Coat!" Evelyn snapped.

Gregory bent down to cage the little dog, his fingers trembling slightly. This crate was meant for vaccination visits—not farewells.

The lock clicked just as thunder rumbled outside.

By the time Evelyn curled under the blankets, rain was hammering against the windows like insistent knocking.

Half-asleep, she heard strange noises in the living room.

At first she thought it was the dog—until a heavy thud echoed, like someone had overturned the coffee table.

Her eyes flew open.

The bedroom was pitch black. She realized her phone was still in the living room, and the bedside lamp had been broken for days.

White Coat let out a piercing yelp.

Bare feet hit icy floorboards, the chill shooting up her spine. Lightning flashed through the door crack, illuminating a hulking shadow rifling through drawers.

The lamp base felt cold and solid in her grip. As she crept closer, an unfamiliar scent of cigarettes hit her nostrils.

Crash!

The intruder howled as he crashed into the shoe cabinet. Blood oozed between his fingers, appearing almost purple in the lightning's glare.

"Bitch!" He staggered toward her.

Evelyn hurled a vase. Porcelain shards exploded between them. Before she could strike again, an iron grip clamped around her wrist.

The storm swallowed her screams.