Theodore straightened his spine, his expression unnervingly calm. "Evelyn, you can choose to believe me or not, but this outcome was never my intention. I will rectify this situation."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Evelyn stood frozen, stunned by his abrupt departure.

A profound sense of relief washed through her, but her limbs still felt like lead. Weakness pinned her to the spot.

Uncertain if he would return, her fingers tightened around the handle of the kitchen knife. She forced herself to move, shuffling slowly toward the bathroom.

It was Alexander who arrived later and rescued her.

To be perfectly honest, Evelyn hadn't expected him to be the one.

Theodore had dedicated so much effort to driving a wedge between her and Alexander. Yet, when it truly mattered, he had simply walked away.

Had her words finally gotten through to him?

"Evelyn, what is it?" Alexander's voice cut through her swirling thoughts.

She blinked, focusing on his concerned face. "Alexander," she began softly, "there's something I never had the chance to tell you. I met Theodore years ago. He was severely injured, and I helped him. That was all. But for some reason, he developed this... fixation on me afterward."

She hesitated, searching for the right words. "And... back in the lounge, I had no choice. It was self-defense. I stabbed him. You've always warned me how dangerous he is. Now that I've hurt him, he might come after me for revenge." Her voice faded to a whisper.

Alexander gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. His touch was steady. "Do not worry about that. I will not allow him to lay a single finger on you ever again."

His gaze dropped to her hand. He took it in his own. "Benjamin said you are physically fine, but I will not feel completely at ease until we are home. Let's leave this place."

Evelyn didn't argue. She had no desire to spend another moment in the hospital.

But as she started to look away, something nagged at the edge of her awareness.

Her eyes snapped back to him, narrowing slightly. "Alexander... Where is your wheelchair?"

Alexander went completely still. The realization hit him like a physical blow. In his frantic rush to save her, he had completely forgotten the charade.

He had intended to tell her the truth eventually, but now, faced with her direct question, a cold knot of dread tightened in his chest.

His lips parted, but no sound emerged.

Evelyn stared at him, her gaze intense and unblinking.

Then, a hazy memory surfaced from the fog of her ordeal.

In the lounge bathroom, through her dazed state, she had seen Alexander running toward her. On his feet.

At the time, her mind had been too clouded to process the image.

Even when she first woke up here, groggy and disoriented, she hadn't registered the abnormality.

But now, fully alert, the tension etched on his face confirmed a shocking suspicion spiraling in her mind.

"Are your legs healed?" The question escaped her lips in a breathy whisper.

Her eyes dropped, staring intently at his legs as if they held the answer.

It made no logical sense.

She shook her head slowly, muttering more to herself than to him. "That's impossible. I saw you in the wheelchair this very morning. And now... you're just walking? Is this some kind of joke? Have you been lying to me all this time?" Her eyes lifted, locking with his, demanding an explanation.

Alexander drew a slow, measured breath. The game was up. "Let me explain, Evelyn."