Chapter 452

"Ms. Carter! Please wait!"

A swarm of reporters descended upon Evelyn like vultures spotting prey.

Nathan was still handling the chaos inside the grand hall, leaving her completely exposed. Though the journalists meant no harm, their relentless questioning made her stomach twist with pain.

Her fingers curled into tight fists as a cold sweat broke across her forehead. Despite the discomfort, she held herself with unwavering poise, her sharp gaze never faltering.

"Ms. Carter! Will you take legal action against Ms. Blackwood for plagiarizing your designs?"

"Cassandra Blackwood leaked Monarch Group's trade secrets, sabotaging your partnership with Isabella Laurent. Will Monarch and Blackwood Industries settle this in court?"

"Isabella Laurent publicly severed ties with Blackwood Industries. Are you planning to reconcile and resume your collaboration?"

The barrage of questions only intensified the throbbing in her abdomen. Her lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to let even a hint of weakness show.

Before she could respond, a familiar figure cut through the crowd.

Strong arms wrapped protectively around her, shielding her from the frenzy.

Her vision blurred momentarily before clearing—just in time to see Alexander Whitmore's concerned face inches from hers. His voice, smooth yet firm, addressed the press.

"Monarch Group will release an official statement addressing all your questions. Right now, Ms. Carter is unwell and needs medical attention. Excuse us."

Evelyn's breath hitched.

Alexander hadn’t been present all evening. How had he noticed her distress?

Memories of the past three years flooded her mind—Nathan’s indifference, the miscarriage, the days she couldn’t even get out of bed. Not once had he shown her kindness. Even something as simple as a glass of water had been too much to ask.

Love revealed itself in the smallest gestures. And Nathan had failed every test.

A droplet of sweat trailed down her temple. Alexander’s grip tightened around her waist, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Can you hold on until we reach the hospital? Or should I call an ambulance?"

She exhaled shakily. "I’ll live."

His jaw clenched. Normally reserved and detached, Alexander had only ever shown warmth toward her. Seeing her like this unraveled something inside him—an urge to protect her at all costs.

"Lean on me," he murmured, guiding her forward.

The reporters, however, weren’t done.

"Sir, may we know who you are?"

His response was cool. "Alexander Whitmore."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whitmore—as in Whitmore Enterprises, the billion-dollar empire rivaling Blackwood Industries?

Of course. Only a man of his stature could stand beside Evelyn Carter, the daughter of Fairhaven’s wealthiest magnate and a world-renowned jewelry designer.

"Mr. Whitmore, what is your relationship with Ms. Carter?"

"Are the two of you involved?"

Evelyn’s fingers dug into Alexander’s sleeve as another wave of pain struck. His arm tightened around her, his voice sharpening.

"Enough. She needs a doctor."

Without another word, he swept her away, leaving the clamoring press behind.