Chapter 3

Evelyn's POV

The next morning, Alexander returned. He was carrying a box of speech therapy flashcards.

The nurse mentioned I had woken up several times during the night and barely slept.

Alexander walked over, felt my forehead for a fever, and then spread the cards on the overbed table.

"I got you a new set of training cards. Let's try these today."

I stared at the colorful flashcards. My stomach twisted.

In Allison's rehab log last night, the exact same brand of flashcards had appeared.

According to the log, Alexander had personally asked the therapist to bring them, and he had spent half an hour practicing with Allison.

Now, he was offering me the leftovers of his patience.

I looked up at Alexander, wanting to ask if he had brought these from Allison's room.

But before the first syllable could form, my throat locked up.

Alexander seemed to read my mind.

"I only went to the rehab center last night to force her to sign the apology agreement," he said, pulling out a card. "I wasn't there to comfort her, Evelyn."

I slowly nodded.

Nodding was so much easier than speaking now.

Alexander held up a card and guided me through the short sentence, word by word.

I focused on the line. On the first try, my mind jumbled the third word. On the second try, I managed the beginning, but the last two words blurred together, turning into a slurred mess.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

Alexander slowed down his voice. "It's okay. Let's do it again."

I followed his lead, my fingers trembling with frustration.

Before Alexander could say anything else, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced at the screen but didn't pick up.

But I caught the preview of the Snapchat notification.

Pinecrest Rehab: Allison Brooks is requesting a co-signature on her daily speech evaluation log.

The atmosphere in the room instantly froze.

Alexander turned his phone face down on the nightstand.

"Let's focus on your cards first."

But the preliminary board review was scheduled for this afternoon.

This was my first time leaving the hospital wing. A nurse pushed my wheelchair into the executive conference room.

Alexander was supposed to accompany me. He even had his coat on. But the moment the elevator doors opened, his phone rang. It was Pinecrest Rehab again.

The therapist on the line said Allison was having a "panic-induced vocal block" and was refusing to sign the final apology draft.

If she didn't sign it today, the legal acknowledgment would be delayed. Which meant my board confirmation would be postponed too.

Alexander held his phone, his brows furrowed in a deep, tense line.

I sat in my wheelchair, clutching the printed speech draft he had edited for me.

He leaned down, his eyes filled with apology. "Go up first, Evelyn. I'll handle this and come right back."

The elevator doors slowly slid shut.

I watched his face get sliced in half by the metal doors, until only his promise lingered in the empty air.

"I'll be right back."

Inside the conference room, three board trustees were waiting.

My draft lay on the mahogany table. The leather chair next to me was empty.

That was where Alexander was supposed to sit.

The lead trustee flipped through my file and looked up. "Miss Carter, we may begin."

I pressed my fingertips against the paper.

The first sentence was slow, but I got through it.

By the second sentence, my grammar scrambled.

By the third, I was just repeating the same syllable over and over, trapped in a loop of my own broken voice.

The secretary stopped typing.

The trustees exchanged low, worried glances.

I gripped the paper, my knuckles white, and tried one more time.

Still, nothing but broken sounds.

The lead trustee closed his folder with a heavy sigh.

"Let's call it a day, Evelyn. Once your speech therapy stabilizes, we will schedule another review."

I sat there, a high-pitched ringing echoing in my ears.

I didn't cry.

I just stared at the empty chair beside me.

Alexander never showed up.

By the time the nurse wheeled me back to my room, the sun had already set.

The room was pitch black. No one was there.

I opened the shared iCloud folder. Allison's profile had just uploaded a new update.

The note read: Alexander Sterling has revised Allison Brooks's recovery plan. The therapist is instructed not to put too much pressure on her. Focus on basic emotional stability first.

The words felt like a slap in the face.

When Allison couldn't speak today, Alexander made the entire medical team wait for her.

When I couldn't speak today, Alexander was nowhere to be found.

I took a screenshot of the update, saved it to my private vault, and cleared the notification.

Late at night, Alexander finally returned.

He was holding the signed apology document from Allison.

Seeing that I was still awake, he immediately rushed to my side. "Evelyn, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to miss it. Her legal team was threatening to block the whole process. I had to resolve it personally."

I shook my head, trying to say it's fine.

The word it's died in my throat.

Alexander mistook my silence for heartbreak. He reached out to pull me into his arms.

"We can reschedule the preliminary review," he whispered. "I'll make sure of it."

My gaze fell on the document in his hand.

The cover page had Allison Brooks printed in bold letters.

Following my gaze, Alexander quickly flipped the document face down on the table.

"It's just paperwork, Evelyn."

I nodded slowly.

Then, I closed my eyes and turned away from him.

That night, I didn't touch the speech draft again.