[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice-Chapter 230:Erased Evidence, Living Fear

~Evric’s POV~

He pulled out his phone. "Tell me everything, Evric. What was the name of the bar? What time did you arrive? And give me the full, verified address of Nicki."

I recited the details, feeling a flicker of hope for the first time since yesterday.

"Good," Evans said, tapping quickly on his phone. "We’ll start with the bar’s security footage and personnel. We’re going to find out who drove you from the bar, and if you were conscious when you left. Until then, you stay here.

Evans immediately began making calls, speaking in low, sharp tones, clearly activating his own network of contacts. I stood watching him, fidgeting with the phone in my hand.

"Evans," I interrupted quietly. "I need to call Zayn. Just to check on his mom’s health."

Evans stopped talking, covered the microphone on his phone, and nodded once. "Go ahead. You need that right now." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

I walked further into the room, seeking privacy, and called Zayn. He answered instantly, the image showing him in a sterile-looking hospital waiting room.

"Hey, baby," he said, his voice instantly lighting up despite the weariness in his eyes.

"How is your mom?" I asked, forcing genuine concern to override the sickness in my stomach.

"She’s okay. They took her in for surgery a few hours ago," he explained. "But Evric, I’m so glad you called. I missed you so much. Are you really okay?"

"I’m fine, really," I insisted, focusing on his tired face. "I’m just worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept enough."

"I did sleep, just not well," he admitted. "And I keep thinking about you. I wish you were here."

"I wish I were, too," I confessed, the longing overwhelming the guilt for a moment. "I missed you, Zayn."

"Well, I have good news," he said, his eyes shining. "The surgery was successful. She’s doing well. The doctors say within a few more days, we’ll leave the hospital, and I’ll spend some time helping her recover at home." He sighed. "Altogether, you should expect me back in about two weeks."

Two weeks. Two weeks to solve this, or lose him forever.

"Okay, baby, that’s a good plan," I said, my voice low and encouraging. "But I promise you, Zayn—if things get better before then, I’ll come down to you. I promise, I will."

"Okay," Zayn smiled. "Deal."

As we talked, I quickly transferred a large sum of money into his personal account. A moment later, the notification flashed on his screen, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Babe, this is too much!" he exclaimed, suddenly flustered. "I can cover all the expenses, honestly."

"It’s not too much, baby," I countered softly, my voice filled with sincerity. "Nothing is too much to do for you. I should have done it before you left the house, I apologize. Don’t spend your money; spend mine. And don’t worry, I won’t go broke easily. Not ever. And if I did, would you still love me?"

Zayn’s entire face softened, and he chuckled slightly. "Evric, even if you had nothing, I would still love you. You know that."

A genuine smile finally broke through my distress, even if only for a moment. "Thank you, baby."

"I should be the one thanking you," he murmured.

We talked for a few more minutes, savoring the connection. Finally, I asked, "Send me the address of the hospital, please. Just in case." He immediately sent the information.

We ended the call, exchanging final, heartfelt "I love you"s.

The call ended, and I didn’t waste a second. I immediately used the hospital address to place a series of detailed orders. I didn’t care about the cost.

I ordered a massive bouquet of flowers from a local florist. Then I contacted a gourmet catering service near the hospital, arranging for fresh, warm meals to be delivered to Zayn and his family for the next week. I added baskets of fresh fruit, bottled water, and light snacks, things they could easily grab between visiting hours. I even included a few soft, comfortable blankets and some herbal tea, hoping it might bring them a little comfort during such a difficult time.

I had to be the perfect boyfriend, the loving, dedicated man he believed me to be.

Only when I was sure every order had been placed did I finally turn, take a deep breath, and steel myself to face my brother.

"How is it going with the investigation?" I asked Evans, my voice steady now.

Evans ended a quiet, brief call just as I approached. He set his phone down. "I’m waiting for feedback from the bar’s contacts," he said, the tension clear in his jaw. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

"I’m fine, I’m not hungry," I replied, the thought of food still making my stomach churn.

Evans didn’t listen. He called out to his maid, "Set the table for two, please. Immediately."

He gave me a hard look. "You can’t collapse on me now, Evric. You need to anchor yourself. You’re eating."

We sat in silence for a while. Evans forced me to eat a few bites of soup and bread, the simple act grounding me slightly. The house was quiet, the only sound the gentle chime of Evans’s phone.

He snatched it up instantly. It was a long call, and Evans listened intently, his expression shifting from focused concentration to deep frustration, and finally, to utter disbelief.

He lowered the phone slowly, staring at the polished mahogany table.

"Evans? What did they say?" I asked, my voice thin with panic.

Evans didn’t look at me right away. He ran a hand through his hair. "They said... they cleared everything."

"Cleared what? That I didn’t exist?" I demanded, leaning forward.

"No. Nicki erased every record of how you got to his house," he said, his tone heavy. "According to the bar’s footage, you were completely drunk. A private car, registered under an anonymous shell company, picked you up from the back entrance. You were too intoxicated to even walk, so the driver had to carry you into the passenger seat."

"So, Nicki hired a driver," I whispered.

"It gets better. They confirmed the bar’s staff followed protocol and they handed you off to the driver who knew your name. The driver, however, is now untraceable." Evans leaned forward, his eyes burning with frustration. "The bigger issue is Nicki’s residence. The surrounding CCTV is strangely corrupted. The footage doesn’t show you arriving, and crucially, it doesn’t show you walking outside or inside his building at all."

"What are you saying?"

"I’m saying the route to Nicki’s building is blind," Evans stated flatly. "It’s like a professional cleaning job. There is no recorded evidence that you were ever in that building, except for your word and Nicki’s threat. Nicki’s personal phone and all his social media profiles went completely dark. He’s vanished."

I slumped back against the chair, my mind reeling. Nicki had played this perfectly. He was gone, leaving behind nothing but an impossible lie—a video threat that I couldn’t confirm, and a blank record that I couldn’t use to prove my innocence.

"So, what does that mean?" I asked.

"It means we have nothing," Evans said, shaking his head. "No evidence you were there, and no evidence you weren’t. Nicki has vanished, but the threat remains. We are at a dead end, Evric. For now, it’s just your word against a ghost."