bChapter 47 /b

Charlotte’s mind shed to Hans. Other than that mother and son, she couldn’t think of anything else that could make Evander lose control like this.

“You think I’d hurt a child?” Herugh was cold, almost mocking. “Mr. Howard, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Evander grabbed her wrist, yanking her roughly. “Wasn’t it you who bought the cake?”

His grip was unrestrained, pressing painfully into her skin.

Charlotte instinctively tried to pull away, her nose stinging. “Tricia asked me ito /ipick it up. Yes, I bought the cake–so what?”

Evander’s arm shot out, dragging her closer until only inches separated them. “Hans is allergic to chocte. Did you know that cake almost killed him?”

For a moment, the pain in her arm was forgotten.

She froze, her expression dazed. “…Tricia never told me.”

“You’re still lying.”

Evander’s eyes hardened to ice as he advanced. Rage twisted his features–he looked as if he might snap her neck then and there. “Tricia already told you about Hans’s allergy. You really think a mother wouldn’t know what her own son is allergic

to?”

Charlotte retreated step by step, until her back hit the cold, unyielding wall. Only then did she realize she had nowhere left to go.

Evander’s stare was dark and sharp, a de poised to cut her down at any moment. And all of this, just because he’d listened to Tricia’s side of the story.

He’d made up his mind–it was her fault.

He had never trusted her. Not for a single second.

Charlotte’s heart clenched painfully.

A storm of emotion crashed inside her, pressing against her chest until she could hardly breathe.

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Her eyes misted as she tried once more to exin, voice trembling. “Evanderb… /bbShe /breally didn’t tell me. I didn’t know Hans was allergic. I just thought–most kids love chocte cake…b” /b

“You really think I’d believe that?”

His words cut her off, leaving no room for hope.

She fell silent.

A single, fat tear hung on hershes.

It felt as if her heart had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, leaving not even a ripple behind.

She knew he’d never believe her, yet she still wanted to exin. Even if there was only the smallest chance he’d trust her–she still tried.

What a pathetic hope.

“Now, You’reing with me to apologize to the child.”

He didn’t give her a chance to refuse. Evander dragged her down the corridors to the pediatric ward.

Tricia was sitting in a chair beside Hans’s bed, gripping the boy’s hand tightly. “Hans, sweetheart, please wake up. Mommy’s so scared…”

The door opened. She turned, rising shakily to her feet. “Evander…”

Hansy on the bed, his face and neck still blotched with the remnants of an allergic reaction.

Evander pushed Charlotte toward the bedside.

Expressionless, he said, “This is what you’ve done.”

Charlotte’s hands knotted at her sides. She bit her lip and turned to Tricia. “Miss Winthrop, unless I’m mistaken, you never mentioned Hans’s allergy to chocte this morning, did you?*

Tricia’s eyes filled with tears. “Dr. Sterling, what are you suggesting? Do you honestly think I want to see Hans like this?”

“But you didn’t say anything earlier-”

“That’s enough.”

Evander stepped forward, shielding Tricia with his body, his gaze icy. “Charlotte,

bChapter /bb47 /b

even now you can’t admit you were wrong?”

Charlotte’s chest tightened, her limbs numb with cold. “I told you–I didn’t know!”

“Dr. Sterling, whatever’s happened between us, you can take it out ion /ime. But don’t take it out on my child! Hans is all I have left!” Tricia looked the very picture of innocence, the helpless victim, while Charlotte was cast as the unforgivable viin. Charlotte felt utterly drained–her mind teetered on the edge of copse, her voice hoarse. “I swear, I didn’t know…i” /i

“Didn’t know?” Evander stepped closer, his handnding on the back of her neck, forcing her down. “Then you’ll kneel here–and you’re not getting up until he wakes.” Charlotte barely had time to react before she was forced to her knees at Hans’s bedside. If she hadn’t caught herself with her hands, she might have hit her head on the bedframe.

Evander didn’t let go, pressing her down another inch.

His voice was cold and low in her ear. “Is admitting fault really that hard for you?”

09:38