Final Approach to Freedom

Chapter 6

Evelyn Montgomery opened her eyes to the sharp sting of antiseptic in the air. The blinding white ceiling made her wince.

"Don't move!" The nurse pressed down on her arm as she tried to sit up. "You lost too much blood, yet you're still restless. Strange—you've been here a whole day, and no family has come to visit. Your husband isn’t answering his calls either."

A bitter smile tugged at Evelyn’s pale lips. "I... don’t have a husband."

Three days later, Alexander Hartley finally appeared at the hospital door. Clutching a fruit basket, his tailored suit suggested he’d just stepped out of an important meeting.

"Does it still hurt?" He stood by the bed, his voice deliberately soft.

Evelyn kept her gaze fixed on the IV drip, refusing to look at him. "Has Miss Whitaker recovered so quickly?"

Alexander’s throat bobbed. "It was an emergency. You were in better shape than—"

"I know." She cut him off. "Now that you’ve explained, you can leave."

He froze. He’d never seen Evelyn like this—a still pond, not even a ripple of anger.

"I came to take care of you," he insisted, setting the basket down. "Between spouses—"

"Spouses?" Evelyn suddenly laughed, the sound making his chest tighten.

In the days that followed, no matter how he tried to make amends, she remained as cold as ice. Yet whenever Sophia called, he’d find excuses to leave immediately.

On the day of her discharge, the Hartley family called, demanding their presence for dinner.

At the table, Mrs. Hartley brought up children—again. Evelyn lowered her head over her soup, remembering all those nights Alexander had stopped midway—not out of consideration, but disgust.

"We’ve been trying for a baby," Alexander announced abruptly.

Evelyn’s fingers twitched, her spoon clinking against the bowl. She studied her husband’s performative tenderness and felt sick.

Back at the villa, Alexander headed straight for the shower. The water ran for two hours, and when he emerged, his skin was icy.

"Caught a cold," he muttered, toweling his hair as he kept his distance. "Don’t want you to catch it."

Evelyn glanced at the calendar—the scheduled day of obligation. She pulled the covers higher, struck by the absurdity.

At 3 a.m., a shrill ringtone shattered the silence.

"Captain Montgomery!" Lucas Bennett’s voice crackled through the phone. "Hartley was stabbed five times at a bar! He needs blood now, but the bank’s running low!"

When Evelyn arrived at the hospital, the scene outside the operating room stopped her in her tracks.

Sophia huddled at the far end of a bench, her wine-red dress stained with something suspicious. Tears streaked her face. "It’s my fault... They came for me..."

"Then you donate!" Lucas snarled, yanking at his tie. "You’re both AB!"

"I—I’m anemic," Sophia whimpered, clutching her arms. "And I faint at the sight of blood..."

Evelyn walked silently to the nurse’s station and rolled up her sleeve. "Take mine."

As the needle pierced her vein, she remembered Alexander’s words at their wedding—"My blood type is rare. Lucky I found you."

The crimson flow through the tube mirrored the love draining from her heart.