Margaret had assured him she could manage Evelyn.

Yet she chose to drug her.

The sheer recklessness of it infuriated him.

Theodore's mood soured further with each passing second.

As a man of considerable means, he had numerous methods to pursue a woman.

But Evelyn was an exception.

She had saved his life once.

His primary obligation was to guarantee her safety, no matter the cost.

A dim shape on the sofa drew his attention.

"Evelyn?" he called out, his voice tight.

Assuming it was her, he moved closer to investigate.

Suddenly, swift footsteps shattered the quiet.

An assailant lunged at him from behind.

Theodore spun around with practiced ease, catching the attacker's wrist, ready to disarm them.

A sharp cry of pain stopped him cold.

"Theodore! It's you!" Evelyn's voice was ragged with fury.

Her face was flushed, her breathing labored.

She fought to stand straight, battling the fire coursing through her veins, resisting the drug's insidious pull.

Realizing she'd been drugged, Evelyn knew Margaret would send someone.

She'd cleverly arranged pillows on the sofa to mimic a sleeping form.

She herself had hidden in the shadows, a small knife clutched in her hand, prepared to ambush the first person to approach.

Her plan was to strike quickly.

But her weakened state made her slow, and she was easily subdued.

"You vile man, Theodore!" she spat, her voice thick with betrayal.

So he was behind this.

His recent quietness had made her think his engagement had changed him.

Instead, he had been plotting with Margaret all along.

The thought of his treachery fueled her rage. "You won't succeed!"

She lunged again, the fruit knife aimed squarely at him, her resolve unshaken.

"Evelyn, please, listen to me!" Theodore's reflexes were sharp. He caught her wrist, stopping the blade effortlessly.

Seeing the tears in her eyes and the anguish on her face sent a pang of guilt through him.

That fool, Margaret!

He had expressed a desire to be with Evelyn, but not like this.

Theodore believed in earning a woman's affection honestly, in having her come to him willingly.

His grip on her wrist was firm yet careful, avoiding any additional hurt.

"You're mistaken. I had no part in this."

"Don't touch me! I'm done with your deceit!" Her voice trembled with emotion. She knew she had to fight with everything she had, or it would be over.

She glared at him, her eyes blazing with hurt. "I saved your life, Theodore. Is this my reward? I'm so disappointed."

A heavy wave of remorse washed over him. His expression turned grave. "I give you my word, I didn't—"

He stopped abruptly.

A coppery scent mixed with her perfume reached him.

His eyes dropped to her hand, where blood was welling from a cut.

His heart clenched.

He immediately took her hand, ignoring the knife she still held.

"Evelyn, you're hurt. This needs attention now," he said, his voice filled with urgent concern.