Chapter 21
Evelyn clutched the medical report, her heart sinking into a pit of dread.
When she got home, there was an envelope wedged in the doorframe.
Inside–nothing but a severed, bloody finger and the address of an abandoned factory outside the city.
Her mind spun. Revenge? A grudge from Vincent’s mercenary days?
But when the shadowy figure turned around, Evelyn froze in disbelief.
“Callum.”
“Sweetie. You finally came.”
His voice was soft, almost wistful–but Evelyn felt the panic rise, her throat tightening.
“What do you want from me?”
Callum frowned, eyes dark with pain. “Why are you looking at me like that? I just wanted to see you. I want you to come home.”
Evelyn thought Callum had gone completely insane. He dragged a steel pipe across the concrete floor–metal screeching against cement, echoing like a warning.
“Come with me. Please.”
Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself. “Callum, it’s over. We’re over.”
Suddenly–click. A lock disengaged above them.
A body dropped from the ceiling with a sickening thud, caught mid–fall by a rope.
“No!” Evelyn cried out.
Vincent. Bound and bloodied, dangling like a lifeless puppet.
Callum’s voice turned ice cold. “You have two choices. He dies, or you come home with me.”
Evelyn laughed bitterly, eyes rimmed red.
So he hadn’t changed. Not one bit.
Somehow, she’d hoped her leaving might change him–that regret would soften his control.
How naive.
Callum Rivers would always be Callum Rivers: The untouchable heir who bowed to no one.
“Sweetie,” he said, voice low, “I know how good you are. You’d never let someone suffer in your place, right?”
He was right about one thing–she cared.
But why hadn’t he remembered that when Estelle framed her? When he shattered her trust and loyalty?
She looked at him–really looked.
“Callum. Where was this kindness when Estelle set me up? Where was this belief in my character then?”
He flinched.
“You didn’t care. Because you were in love with her. And people always believe the ones they love.”
“That’s not true. I was just guilty–trying to make things right-”
“Don’t lie to me!” she shouted.
Tears burned down her cheeks.
“When you chose Estelle over me, where was your guilt?”
“You didn’t love me. You just love yourself. You were nice to me because I was a substitute for Estelle, and you were nice to Estelle because of your guilt. Wasn’t it all for yourself?”
Callum was silent.
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Then, he laughed. Low. Unhinged.
“So what? You’re still mine.”
The pipe came crashing down.
Vincent groaned, shaking his head violently–Don’t. Don’t come closer.
Callum smirked and started counting down.
“Three.”
“Two.”
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Callum’s smile suddenly froze.
Evelyn pulled out a knife and pointed it directly at her own stomach.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice sharp with panic.
She tossed a crumpled medical report at his feet. “I’m pregnant, Callum. Let Vincent go, or I swear I’ll take your child with me.”
Callum stood frozen.
Joy and anguish collided in his chest.
She was carrying his baby.
But she was threatening their child’s life–for another man.
His voice cracked. “Evelyn, how could you? That’s our baby! And you’d use it against me–for him?”
She snapped back, her tone like ice. “Didn’t you threaten me with my sister’s life to protect Estelle? Don’t pretend we’re different.”
Her beautiful face twisted into a bitter smile.
Callum flinched as her words hit home. It felt like she’d ripped out his heart and crushed it in her hand.
“I regret it,” he whispered, broken.
Evelyn’s next words shattered him.
“Regret doesn’t bring back the dead. Who’s going to answer for my mother’s death? You?”
He looked like a man utterly lost, crushed under the weight of guilt.
Then she pressed the knife to her belly.
“You always gave me ultimatums. You tried to control me with threats, with people I love. You called it love, but it was just manipulation.”
Her voice rose.
“Now it’s my turn. Either you let us go, or we both die. No one wins.”
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Callum dropped to his knees. The arrogance was gone. The power, the pride–all of it had crumbled.
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“No, Evelyn… please don’t. I’ll let you go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
With a nod, the ropes holding Vincent loosened, and he crashed to the ground.
Evelyn rushed to him, not taking her eyes off Callum until they were out of that place.
Only then did she let herself collapse.
“I’m so sorry,” Vincent rasped. “I should’ve protected you.”
But before he could say more, he coughed up a thick spatter of blood.
Evelyn’s face went pale.
Back home, she helped him out of his shirt. His back was covered in wounds–some old, some bleeding and raw,
He tried to hide, muttering, “I’ll take care of it. Don’t look… it’s not pretty.”
But Evelyn’s heart clenched.
He’d suffered so much—maybe more than she had.
And still, he’d been the one to save her.
“Do you regret saving me?” she asked quietly. “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be like this.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then, finally: “I never thought about regret. That day, when you got off the plane… your eyes were screaming for help.”
Evelyn blinked, confused. “But you weren’t even there.”
