Chapter 431

Alexander noticed the subtle shift in Evelyn's expression and instantly recognized it as a delicate subject.

"You don't have to share if it's uncomfortable," he said gently.

Evelyn appreciated his sensitivity. Over the past few days they'd spent together, his thoughtfulness had slowly chipped away at her defenses.

Now that she reflected on it, Dominic had never opened up about his past either.

Despite their years together, there had been no real connection between them—just secrets and walls. No wonder things had ended the way they did.

"I've never told you about my family," Evelyn murmured, guiding him to the sofa with a soft touch.

Alexander quieted, taking her hand in his. He gave a slight nod. "No, you haven't."

"I was born in Elmsworth," she began carefully. "I'm from the Hawthorne family."

"The Hawthornes?"

"Yes."

The name carried weight, just like the Kensingtons of Veridian City, the Prescotts of Garnet Springs, and the Worthingtons from the capital.

Though the Hawthornes maintained a low profile, they were legendary for their ancient martial arts heritage. Unlike the other prominent families, little was known about them beyond their public figures.

That was why Alexander hadn't realized Evelyn was connected to them.

"Reginald Hawthorne is my grandfather," she explained, meeting his gaze. "That's why I don't carry the Hawthorne name."

The words felt heavy, like a confession she'd held back for years.

Once, she had been Evelyn Hawthorne. But at eighteen, she left for college, determined to forge her own path. When she chose perfumery—and Dominic—over family expectations, the rift between them deepened.

Dominic hadn't just been her lover. He had been her escape.

For years, the Hawthornes acted as if she no longer existed.

But she knew better. Blood ties couldn't be severed so easily.

And now, Donovan Pierce had reappeared, stirring something inside her—a dormant power awakening.

Alexander pieced it together quickly. "So this crane is for your grandfather?"

He knew Reginald's seventieth birthday was approaching. As a family ally, he had already prepared a gift. But he never imagined his wife was a Hawthorne.

"Yes," Evelyn confirmed, glancing at the delicate wooden sculpture. "Remember those twin dolls?"

"The ones that made you want twins?" he teased.

She shot him a look before continuing, "I wanted to commission a special piece from the woodcarver for Grandfather's birthday. But Julian Mercer vanished before I could ask. I never expected him to finish it and send it to me."

"Julian?"

Though the point of her story was the mysterious delivery, Alexander zeroed in on one detail.

A young man.

Evelyn sighed, ruffling his hair playfully. "Yes, he's young—about my brother's age. That's all."

This man. So possessive. Did he really see every male as competition?