Chapter 473

Evelyn hung her clothes in the wardrobe one by one and adjusted the air conditioner to a warmer setting. Hot water poured from the showerhead, steam quickly fogging up the bathroom glass. She tilted her face up, letting the water wash over her exhausted body.

The doorbell rang abruptly as she was drying her hair.

She tightened the belt of her robe and peered through the peephole to see Alexander Hamilton's tall figure.

"Talk tomorrow," she said, opening the door just a crack.

Alexander's tie hung loosely around his neck. "I need to borrow something."

"You packed three times more luggage than I did."

"Sanitary pads," he muttered, voice barely audible. "For Lydia."

Evelyn arched an eyebrow. "The front desk offers 24-hour service."

"She doesn’t want outsiders to know." His Adam's apple bobbed. "She’s embarrassed."

"So you want me to go?" She scoffed. "Mr. Hamilton, I still have a fever."

"I’m not asking you to go yourself." He braced a hand against the doorframe. "Just call the front desk in your name."

Evelyn yanked the door open. The damp scent of shampoo filled the air. Alexander’s gaze lingered on her dripping hair for a moment before he deliberately looked away.

When the front desk answered, Evelyn glanced at him for the brand.

"Whatever," he said, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat on the sofa.

Ten minutes passed with no doorbell. As Evelyn reached for the phone a third time, she heard steady breathing behind her. Alexander had slumped against the back of the couch, his tie askew over the armrest, still wearing his dress shoes.

On impulse, she leaned closer, catching the faint scent of cedar on him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his brow furrowed deeply.

Gathering the outfit she planned to wear tomorrow, Evelyn quietly shut the door behind her.

Lydia answered with red-rimmed eyes.

"Alexander, he—"

"Asleep." Evelyn handed her the sanitary pads. "We’re switching rooms."

Lydia clutched the keycard and scurried away like a startled rabbit.

Evelyn sank into the plush mattress and quickly fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Alexander grasped a hand that reached for his forehead in his sleep. The fingers smelled sickly sweet of hand cream. He frowned instinctively but still pressed the soft skin to his lips.

"Worried about me?"

The palm trembled violently. Alexander’s eyes flew open to meet Lydia’s tear-filled gaze.

"Sorry." He released her hand, his fingertips sticky with residue.

Lydia hid her hands behind her back. "Evelyn said… you were exhausted…"

Alexander loosened his tie with a cold laugh. "How considerate of her."

Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, illuminating Lydia’s lower lip, bitten until it bled.

"You… called Evelyn’s name in your sleep…"

Alexander’s hands stilled on his buttons.

The air froze solid.

This misunderstanding—he had no way to explain it.