My Dad's Bestfriend (Evelyn and Jacob) novel Chapter 230

Evelyn

The knife trembled in his grip, his knuckles whitening as his gaze flickered between me and the blade lodged deep into the armrest. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling with the weight of something dark, something I couldn’t name. Then, in a sudden burst of motion, he ripped the knife free and hurled it against the wall with a sharp thunk.

“Don’t fucking push me, you goddamn woman!” His voice was raw, frayed at the edges. “I can’t kill you.”

A beat of silence. Then as he noticed the surprise in my eyes, he added quickly, “Yet. I can’t kill you yet!”

A chill slid down my spine.

I didn’t know what war he was fighting inside his head, but I didn’t care—not now. Survival was the only thing that mattered. Mine and my baby’s. If I had to destroy this broken, volatile version of Tyler to make it out alive, I would. But my hands were tied, my body useless, leaving me with only one weapon—his mind. If I could plant the right seed, twist the right nerve…maybe he’d let me go.

Less damage.

Better chances.

“Tyler,” I whispered, forcing my voice to steady. “My baby has no fault in any of this.” I met his gaze, searching for something—anything—human left inside him. “You can hate me. You can hate Jacob. But let me give birth. You can kill me after that, if that’s what you want…just… spare my baby. She’s innocent.”

The air between us turned razor-sharp. His expression wavered, then his brows shot up, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. And then—before I could brace myself—he lunged forward.

I flinched.

His face was so close, his breath fanning against my skin, his presence suffocating.

“What did you say?” His voice was quieter now, but not softer.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Let me… let me give birth—”

“No.” His fingers dug into the arms of my chair. “After that. What did you say after that?”

I forced the words out. “You can kill me after I give birth… if that’s what you want. Just let my baby live.”

Tyler went still. Completely, terrifyingly still.

His eyes locked onto mine, something dark and unreadable churning in their depths. Then, in a breath of disbelief, he whispered, “You’d do that for your child?”

He said it like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. Like a concept so foreign, it didn’t belong in his world.

Of course, I would. Any mother would.

I just wanted my Sienna to live—to take her first breath, to open her tiny eyes, to be held by someone who would love her even if I couldn’t. Even if I wouldn’t be there. At least she’d be alive, safe with Jacob.

“Y-yes…” My voice trembled, because something about the way he was looking at me made my stomach knot with dread. That same, all-consuming dark eyes. That same reckless, destructive desire—the one that had torn our lives apart once before.

He studied my face, his head tilting slightly, as if peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had. And then, just as suddenly as the tension had spiked, he exhaled sharply and let go, dropping down onto the floor beside my chair.

Casual. Unarmed. Exposed.

This Tyler… this version of him—I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen before.

“You women are strange,” he mused, his voice distant, as if speaking more to himself than to me. He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the cold, mold-streaked wall in front of us, its surface tangled with spiderwebs that shuddered faintly in the dim light.

“Some of you claim you’d die for your children,” he continued, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. “And some of you make them wish they were dead.” A bitter chuckle slipped past his lips. “Isn’t that weird?”

Then, suddenly, he turned to me, his eyes sharp, burning with something unreadable.

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