Chapter 4
No.1
Silence.
"Evelyn," he bit out each syllable, "are you trying to die?"
"Congratulations." Her tone was breezy. "Finally getting rid of your burden."
She hung up, blocked the number, then powered off her phone.
Dawn reflected off Horizon Tower's glass facade.
"Get some rest, but keep your phone on." Martha Nash patted her shoulder. "The Isabella situation is cooling down, but we need to monitor—"
There won't be updates.
No.2
Evelyn watched the pale morning sky. If the Kingsleys consented, Alexander could marry Isabella tomorrow.
A silver Maserati pulled up silently.
The window lowered, revealing Julian Ashford's striking features. "Get in."
As colleagues' laughter approached behind her, Evelyn hastily entered.
"Where to?" Julian handed her a warm milk carton.
"A hotel." The heat seeped into her chilled fingers.
"Still overworking." His chuckle held fondness. "Remember in America when—"
No.3
"Julian!" She cut him off sharply.
Silence filled the car.
"He'll never know, will he?" Julian's grip whitened on the steering wheel. "What you sacrificed—"
"It's over." She turned to the window.
Love wasn't charity or repayment. She and Alexander had reached this point through their own choices.
Her phone buzzed to life with dozens of missed calls.
A new text flashed: [Don't you dare ignore me again.]
No.4
She calmly blocked the number.
The Maserati stopped at a five-star hotel.
"This is too much." Evelyn shook her head.
"Company expense." Julian pressed the keycard into her hand. "Rest."
As he turned away, darkness flickered in his eyes.
She'd left the Kingsley mansion with nothing—not even spare clothes. Alexander truly was merciless.
The suite's floor-to-ceiling windows framed a river view worthy of a painting.
No.5
Evelyn hit the curtain switch. When the last sliver of light vanished, she finally let tears fall.
Two days ago replayed vividly.
Isabella had stolen her butterfly brooch—her mother's only keepsake—in her absence.
At Kingsley Group headquarters, Evelyn had slapped Isabella. Alexander emerged to find Isabella weeping dramatically.
"Alex, she accused me of theft—"
"It was the butterfly brooch!" Evelyn's lips trembled.
"Enough." Alexander's voice could freeze hell. "Even if she took it, violence is unacceptable. You're spoiled rotten, Evelyn."
No.6
Yes, she'd been spoiled.
Spoiled enough to believe Alexander would always indulge her.
"I hit her. What will you do about it?" She lifted her chin defiantly.
His glare turned arctic. "Apologize, or forget being Mrs. Kingsley."
Her voice shook. "And if I refuse?"
"Then we're done." No hesitation. "Choose: apology or breakup."
Tears fell silently, soaking the pillowcase.
No.7
Alexander Kingsley had completely forgotten the story behind that butterfly brooch.
Or perhaps, he never cared to remember.
At thirteen, Evelyn Sinclair had clutched three years' worth of saved allowance and gone alone to the auction.
She stood in the last row, watching helplessly as bidding paddles rose again and again for the multicolored diamond butterfly brooch.
The final price was ten times her entire savings.
She cried under her blankets for seven straight days after returning home.
On the eighth midnight, Alexander kicked open her bedroom door.