The Day Our Promise Breaks (Charles and Evelyn) novel Chapter 551

Night had fallen. Under cover of darkness, Dahlia drove a car belonging to one of the male orderlies from the psychiatric hospital to Maple Garden.

She parked across from the building where Evelyn lived, in one of the ground-level parking spots.

Sitting in the car, she watched as Evelyn and Josephine went upstairs, her eyes narrowing with poisonous intent as she fixed her gaze on the windows of their floor.

She waited, watching, until the lights finally went out.

Another hour passed. Only when she was certain they were asleep did Dahlia quietly open the trunk.

She dragged out a massive metal gas can, nearly half as heavy as she was.

The world was silent.

Struggling under the weight, Dahlia crept upstairs, picked the lock to Evelyn’s apartment, and slipped inside.

Moving with chilling precision, she unscrewed the cap of the gas can. The sharp tang of gasoline quickly filled the air as the clear liquid gushed onto the hardwood floor.

When the living room was soaked, she carried what remained—about a third of the can—to the master and second bedroom doors, dousing each threshold. Finally, she walked to the front door, pulled a lighter from her pocket, and in the flickering flame, her face twisted into a vicious, hateful smile.

She flicked the lighter and tossed it toward the master bedroom.

The gasoline caught fire instantly.

As flames erupted, Dahlia’s voice, full of venom and curses, rang out: “Evelyn, go to hell!”

If she had to live in agony, then Evelyn had no right to happiness. Evelyn needed to die—and Charles, too, needed to know what it meant to live in torment.

Slamming the door shut, Dahlia poured the rest of the gasoline across it, cutting off any hope of escape for Evelyn and her daughter.

Within moments, panicked screams echoed from inside.

“Mom!” Evelyn’s frantic cry was followed by violent coughing.

The gasoline Dahlia had poured was overwhelming—thick, black smoke rolled through the apartment.

Woken by the choking fumes, Evelyn’s first thought was for Josephine and she tried to reach the master bedroom. But most of the room was already engulfed in flames. Trapped in a corner, she couldn’t even reach the door.

There was no water. There was no way through the fire.

They’d spent a decade together—Charles recognized Dahlia instantly.

Seeing Dahlia, who should have been in the psychiatric hospital, leaving Evelyn’s building, a chill ran down his spine. A sense of dread overwhelmed him.

He looked up at Evelyn’s floor on instinct.

From the window, he saw flames—bright, wild, and consuming.

Charles’s face turned ashen.

As Dahlia tried to flee, Charles didn’t hesitate—he slammed his foot on the gas and rammed the car straight at her.

Caught off guard, Dahlia was thrown violently to the ground.

Charles leapt out of the car, ignoring the writhing, injured Dahlia, dialing 911 as he sprinted toward the blazing building.

The thought of Eve and Ms. Josephine trapped inside tightened his chest with terror, but he forced himself to stay calm as he plunged into the fire.