Chapter 580

Genevieve moved closer to Everett. "I-"

But Reginald intercepted her. His grip tightened around his daughter's wrist. "We're leaving."

With no other option, Genevieve followed her father out of the casino.

Everett remained motionless for several heartbeats before finally exiting onto the neon-lit streets.

Buzz.

His phone vibrated. Rosalind's message flashed on the screen.

[I have a fever.]

Everett kept one hand in his pocket, ignoring the notification.

Another buzz followed immediately.

[My head is pounding. Please come see me?]

[I know you didn't mean those words. There must be a reason you said them.]

[If you come now, all is forgiven. We can still have our happy ending.]

The notifications kept coming, each buzz vibrating through his palm.

He could vividly imagine Rosalind's expression - that adorable pout, the slight crease between her brows, the way her lips would tremble when upset.

Everett kept walking, phone clutched tightly. Every logical thought screamed at him to stay away.

He was nothing. A nobody. Yet fate had given him the one girl he'd give his life to protect. The irony burned.

Just as he turned toward home, another notification chimed.

[I miss you.]

Three simple words that shattered his resolve.

Everett froze mid-step. His breath hitched. Then suddenly, he was running - sprinting toward the very life he'd sworn to abandon.

Thirty minutes later, Everett stood before the wrought iron gates of the Whitmore estate. Golden light spilled from the windows, warm and inviting.

His hands flexed at his sides, clenching and unclenching. The internal war raged on.

Finally, he stepped forward.

Inside the mansion, Rosalind lay curled on her bed, phone clutched to her chest. Still no reply.

Her bottom lip protruded in a sulk.

Was she being too demanding? Everett had his own struggles. Maybe she should-

Knock. Knock.

"Who is it?" she called hoarsely.

"Beatrice, miss. You have a visitor waiting outside."

Rosalind's heart leapt. Everett!

The feverish lethargy vanished as she threw off the covers. "Where? Where is he?"

Beatrice tried to stop her. "Miss, please slow down! You'll-"

But Rosalind was already flying down the grand staircase, bare feet slapping against marble.

He came! She knew he couldn't resist her!

With trembling hands, she yanked open the massive oak door.

"Everett!" The name burst from her lips in joyous relief.

Then her smile died.

Standing on the doorstep wasn't Everett at all.

It was Julian.

Julian Blackwood had come calling.