Alexander's face was a mask of cold indifference as he stared down Theodore. "So, your intention is to imprison Evelyn like a songbird in your gilded cage?"

Theodore's lips twisted into a smug smile. "Precisely. That is exactly what I desire."

To his mind, it was the ultimate offer. What woman wouldn't crave such a life of luxury and protection?

Alexander didn't answer right away.

He knew Evelyn—her spirit, her ambitions, every secret wish of her heart.

She would never accept a life of confinement under Theodore's possessive control.

A derisive smile touched Alexander's lips.

"You," he stated coldly, "clearly do not know Evelyn at all. It's no wonder she refuses to even acknowledge you."

The verbal blow landed perfectly. Theodore's expression contorted with instant fury. Rage burned in his gaze as he glared at Alexander, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "You are making a grave error."

Without another word, Theodore launched himself at Alexander, fists swinging.

Alexander reacted instantly, meeting the assault with equal ferocity.

In the brutal scuffle, fresh blood bloomed through their clothes, reopening recent wounds.

Both men clenched their jaws, trading blows fueled by pure hatred. Neither would give an inch.

Their subordinates watched, growing increasingly frantic.

"Mr. Blackwood! You must stop this!"

"Boss, your injuries! Please, cease this madness!"

Ignoring the desperate pleas, Alexander and Theodore were locked in their deadly dance. This confrontation had to end now, one way or another.

Yielding was not an option.

Alexander shot his men a look of icy command. "Do not intervene."

Theodore, equally enraged, snarled, "Stay out of it! This is between him and me. Anyone who interferes will regret it!"

The fight escalated with each passing second, a brutal testament to their mutual loathing.

The tension among the spectators was palpable. If this continued, the outcome would be dire.

One was the Blackwood heir. The other, the future head of the Vance family.

The loss of either would be a catastrophe.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of police sirens pierced the air.

Officers swarmed the scene, swiftly surrounding the group and separating the combatants.

"We have reports of illegal trespass, public disturbance, and affray," an officer declared sternly, his eyes locking onto Alexander. "You. Come with us."

Theodore, still breathing heavily, wore a look of smug victory. "Afraid, Alexander? Beg for mercy, and I might consider letting this slide."

Alexander's gaze remained steady and calm. He knew exactly what had transpired—Theodore's people had called the authorities.

Just as the situation seemed to solidify, a disheveled figure emerged from the shadows.

"Officer! Help me, please!" Margaret cried out, drenched in sweat as she stumbled toward the police. Her voice was raw with sobs. "Help me! Theodore Vance tried to kill me! He had my hand shattered!"

The officers exchanged sharp glances, their expressions turning grim with new purpose.

"In that case, Theodore Vance, you're coming with us too."

Theodore's face slackened with shock. He hadn't anticipated Margaret's appearance at this critical moment.

Frustration boiled within him, but with escape impossible, he had no choice but to comply, reluctantly getting into the police car.