Chapter 728

Alexander Hamilton braced against the desk, but his legs remained rooted like ancient oaks.

He forced a smile. "Let's talk in my office. This isn't the place."

Evelyn Carter swallowed her turbulent emotions, silently supporting him to his office.

The moment the door clicked shut, her restraint shattered. "Where have you been these days? Not a single message! Margaret was frantic with worry!"

His gaze burned into her. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"Were you worried?"

She turned her face away. "How bad are your injuries?"

A low chuckle escaped him. "So you were worried."

His fingers twitched toward her, then recoiled before touching her sleeve. Those once-elegant hands now bore a tapestry of scars, his palms rough with fresh calluses.

"You've lost weight." His voice tightened.

Evelyn's already slender frame had become almost translucent, her delicate face dominated by luminous eyes.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "I tried to shield you that day, but the staircase collapsed—"

At the moment Evelyn lost consciousness, he'd reached his limit. As flames licked toward them, he'd spotted Lydia Laurent's bodyguards.

They weren't there to rescue anyone.

Alexander had leapt at the critical moment. Despite perfect timing, his old ankle injury exploded with white-hot agony.

He'd deliberately drawn the pursuers away, tossing his coat into the inferno as a decoy. Only after confirming Evelyn's safe ambulance departure did he vanish into the shadows, dragging his wounded leg.

"So you hid while injured?" Her voice trembled. "Do you realize how reckless that was?"

A bitter smile twisted his lips. "First time in thirty years someone forced me underground. Easier to dodge bullets when you become the ghost."

He staggered suddenly.

Evelyn caught him. "Sit down!"

Beads of sweat traced his jawline. Days of endurance had worsened his condition.

"Hospital. Now." Her tone brooked no argument. "Is your business finished?"

He exhaled raggedly. "All evidence against the Laurents is with the police. Cross-jurisdictional cases take time, but they won't escape."

She knelt to examine his leg.

Alexander yanked his pant leg down. "I'll call the family physician."

"I am a doctor."

"...You're OB-GYN."

"Alexander." She met his gaze squarely. "What are you afraid of?"

His breath hitched.

"Nothing."

"Then stop being difficult." She reached again.

His hand clamped around her wrist. "Don't look."

"Why?"

"...It's ugly."

Her fingertips brushed a concave scar.

Her heart clenched.

"I'm a physician." Her voice softened. "No wound is uglier than a stubborn patient's pride."