Chapter 38
“Jesus Christ! Have you completely lost your damn mind, Zachary?” Lucian’s voice boomed through the tense air, his face contorted in shock.
Evelyn’s complexion turned ghostly pale. Her arm hung limp at her side, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead. The contrast between the two men couldn’t be starker—Lucian treated women with gentle care, while Zachary was nothing short of brutal.
Zachary’s fingers flexed around the space where Evelyn’s arm had been moments before. He took an unsteady step back, his expression one of stunned disbelief.
“Ms. Sinclair, your arm is dislocated! We need to get you to a hospital immediately!” Lucian’s voice was thick with concern as he reached for her, but she sidestepped him with surprising agility.
“No, thank you. I’ll handle this myself.”
“How the hell are you going to do that? You can barely move!”
“That’s none of your concern!” Evelyn snapped, her temper flaring. The fire in her eyes made Lucian freeze mid-step.
Zachary watched her, his gaze unreadable. This woman had once been his wife, yet she felt like a stranger. During their three years of marriage, he’d only ever seen her smile—soft, obedient, almost painfully eager to please. Back then, he’d resented her for it, despised the way she bent to his every whim. By the end, that resentment had curdled into outright hatred.
Now, divorced and free of him, that docile mask had shattered. And yet, here she was—more vibrant, more alive than he’d ever seen her, even in her anger.
“Zachary, stop deluding yourself,” Evelyn hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes burning. “I didn’t take this job to humiliate you. I did it because I needed a way out—because I knew you’d discard me eventually.”
Her voice cracked. “I don’t understand why you keep standing in my way. You moved on the second our marriage ended. So why can’t I? Or is it that you can’t stand the thought of me thriving without you?”
The words hit Zachary like a physical blow. His throat tightened, rendering him speechless. His silence only deepened the ache in Evelyn’s chest.
She let out a bitter laugh. “Are you waiting for me to collapse without you? To crawl back, broken? Those days are over. I spent three years living like that, and I refuse to do it anymore. Leaving you wasn’t the end of my misery—it was my salvation. So stay the hell away from me until your grandfather’s birthday. I don’t want to see you again.”
Evelyn turned away, the pain in her arm paling in comparison to the raw agony in her heart. She was numb, hollowed out.
She could have reset her dislocated joint right then and there. But she didn’t. She wanted to feel it—needed to. The physical pain was a distraction from the emotional wreckage inside her.
Then, without warning, warmth pressed against the small of her back. The world tilted as Zachary swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.
“Put me down!” she demanded, her face flushing with indignation as she struggled.
But the more she fought, the tighter his grip became. His broad chest rose and fell steadily beneath her, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a ghost from the past.
Suddenly, the urge to cry overwhelmed her. How many nights had she spent alone, spraying his cologne on her pillow just to pretend he was there? Back then, she’d done it willingly. Now, the memory only filled her with shame.
“I’m taking you to the hospital. A dislocated arm isn’t something to ignore.” Zachary’s voice was flat, but his eyes darkened with something unreadable.
“Let me go!” Evelyn’s voice was raw. “You couldn’t be bothered to touch me when we were married. Now that we’re divorced, you have no right!”
Her words hung in the air, sharp as shattered glass.
