How could someone who mourned a stray cat now stand indifferent, watching a living, breathing person suffer on the ground?
Christopher’s mind swirled with questions and anger. Had he been the one to ruin her? Had his indulgence and tolerance turned Evelyn into this cold, reckless version of herself?
His chest tightened as he gently laid Charlotte on the floor. Rising, he turned toward Evelyn, his expression dark and oppressive, his voice sharp as steel.
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Evelyn looked up at him, her face devoid of emotion and then… she smiled. Not a warm or apologetic smile, but one cold enough to cut through the room like a blade.
The sight made Christopher’s chest burn with fury.
Before he could lash out, a weak voice broke through the tension.
“Brother Christopher… don’t… don’t ask. It was my fault. I slipped…” Charlotte’s words were halting, her breath shallow.
Her feeble attempt at an explanation only fanned the flames of Christopher’s anger. Charlotte was on the verge of death, yet she still defended Evelyn, who stood there with ice in her veins.
It was too much. A firestorm of rage erupted within him, consuming every rational thought.
With a swift motion, his hand rose and the sound of the slap echoed through the room.
“Snap!”
Evelyn stumbled, her head snapping to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t cry out.
Instead, a strange ringing filled her ears, sharp and relentless, as if something inside her had snapped. She reached up, touching her ear in confusion.
Christopher’s voice, sharp and venomous, cut through the haze. “If anything happens to Charlotte, the wedding is off. Do you hear me? Off!”
She heard the words—every syllable—but only in her left ear. Her right ear heard nothing but silence.
Her hand trembled as she covered her left ear, testing her hearing. She played music on her phone, pressing it against her right ear.
Silence.
She was deaf in one ear.
Evelyn froze, her fingers slowly dropping to her side.
How much anger… how much hatred must Christopher have felt to strike her so hard that he robbed her of her hearing?
For a moment, she stood there, dazed, until a bitter smile curled her lips.
It doesn’t matter, she thought. Nothing matters anymore. Deaf? Fine. I wasn’t planning on staying alive much longer anyway.