The War God Alpha's Arranged Bride (Evelyn and Alexander) novel Chapter 151

**Steps Along Forgotten Roads**
**By Sophia Reed**
**Chapter 151: Doctor’s Visit**

[Evelyn’s POV]

The sight of Alexander nodding in agreement left me momentarily speechless. The moment Fiona’s name escaped my lips, I braced myself for the inevitable reaction—a furrowed brow, perhaps even a scornful glare.

But instead, there was nothing of the sort.

A flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Was Alexander truly in agreement, or had he simply witnessed Fiona’s heinous actions firsthand? It felt as if he could read the tumult of thoughts racing through my mind. In a tender gesture, he reached out, his hand resting softly against the uninjured side of my face.

“Oliver helped me figure it out,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with an undercurrent of emotion.

“Oliver?” I echoed, the name hanging in the air like a question mark.

Alexander shook his head gently, a hint of shyness playing across his features. It was an expression that reminded me of a child caught in an innocent mischief.

“He stopped me from spiraling into a very dark place,” he confessed. “He kept me grounded while I was trying to manage the bleeding. He asked me questions, simple ones, but they helped me focus. Eventually, we reached the conclusion that it could only be Fiona who inflicted those wounds.”

The term “lacerations” hit me like a cold slap against the already bruised side of my face.

“Lacerations…” I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

Instinctively, I raised my slightly injured hand to touch my face, my heart pounding in a rhythm that echoed my rising anxiety. The memory of Fiona’s cruel words surged back, a tide of bitterness flooding my mind.

“She wanted to make me ugly,” I murmured, the weight of the realization settling heavily in my chest.

Alexander inhaled sharply, shaking his head with conviction. “She could never do that.”

I wanted to cling to his words, to believe in the power of his reassurance. But the sharp, unrelenting pain coursing through my body was a stark reminder that perhaps Alexander’s faith in my beauty was misguided.

“Are they bad?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the fear of the answer hanging in the air.

“There was a lot of blood at the time, which made it difficult to assess the damage accurately. As you begin to heal, we’ll have a clearer picture. But let’s not jump to conclusions just yet,” he said, his tone soothing but firm.

I let my gaze drift away from him, a sense of longing washing over me. I never imagined I would find myself wishing for Alexander to step back, to remove his gaze that felt like a spotlight on my vulnerabilities. He looked at me as if I were a fragile creature, an injured animal in need of constant protection, and that made me feel small, weak, and utterly pitiful.

“Your sedative has likely worn off by now. How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Every part of me throbbed with pain. The back of my head pulsed where Isabella had struck me, and while my face was the epicenter of agony, a new wave of discomfort was radiating from my lower chest.

“You mentioned that a few of my ribs were broken,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Alexander nodded, his expression somber. “I understand there may not be much you can do for my face, but what about my lower chest? Is there anything to alleviate that pain?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice steady. “Ian recommended using ice packs to reduce the swelling.”

“Ian?” I questioned, curiosity piquing my interest.

“My doctor,” he clarified, a note of trust evident in his tone. “I trust him with my life. Just a moment, I’ll fetch some ice packs for you.”

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