(Evelyn's POV)
The sun poured through the wide glass windows, catching the edges of the curtains as they swayed with the morning breeze. The air smelled faintly of coffee and roses—the maids must have been pruning the garden again.
I was seated by the living room window, pretending to read. Truth was, I wasn't seeing the words at all. My mind had been floating between silence and bitterness ever since Damien left—or pretended to.
Three weeks, the maid had said. Three long weeks.
I'd learned how long three weeks could feel when every wall around me carried his presence, his scent, his control.
A soft knock came at the door. "Miss Evelyn," one of the guards said, voice oddly hesitant, "there's a visitor at the gate asking for you."
My brows furrowed. "A visitor?"
He nodded. "He says his name is Charles."
The book slipped from my hands. Charles?
It had been years. The last time I saw him, he'd been leaving for Oxford, laughing and promising to write every week. He hadn't. But his name alone carried too many memories — childhood laughter, endless pranks, secret hideouts away from my family's parties.
"Let him in," I said before I could stop myself.
When Charles stepped through the front doors, time seemed to stumble. He was taller now, sharper around the jaw, but the same warmth burned behind those hazel eyes.
"Evelyn," he breathed, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "You haven't changed much."
I laughed, the sound foreign on my tongue. "And you still lie beautifully, Charles."
He chuckled and spread his arms slightly. "So you do remember me. I was afraid you'd forgotten your favorite partner-in-crime."
"I could never forget the boy who nearly burned down our garden shed trying to make fireworks."
"That was science!" he protested, mock-offended.
I laughed again, properly this time, and something inside me—something cold and clenched—finally loosened. For a moment, I wasn't Damien's captive shadow. I was just Evelyn Rothwell, talking to the only person who ever made me forget how heavy expectations could feel.
Charles looked around the massive living room, whistling softly. "So this is where you've been hiding, huh? It's beautiful… but it doesn't look like you."
I hesitated. "It's not really mine."
He caught the tone instantly. "Right. The mysterious Adrian Vale." He tilted his head, searching my expression. "He's not here, is he?"
"No," I said softly. "He's away. Business trip."
His gaze softened. "Then maybe it's good timing. You look like you need to remember how to breathe."
I smiled faintly. "You sound like my mother."
"She was right about some things." He winked. "Come on. Walk with me. The gardens outside are practically begging us to break a few rules again."
I rolled my eyes, but followed.
Outside, the sunlight kissed the marble steps as we walked down to the garden. The air was light with jasmine and citrus. For once, it didn't feel like a cage.
Charles picked up a small pebble and flicked it toward the fountain. "Bet I can still hit the center before you do."
"Oh, you're on," I said, bending down to grab my own.
We spent the next few minutes throwing pebbles, laughing every time one splashed too far or landed short. He exaggerated his misses just to make me laugh harder, and soon I was doubled over, clutching my stomach as tears welled up in my eyes.
"You haven't changed," I said, breathless.
"I had to survive without you, Evelyn," he said quietly, smiling but not quite joking now. "That's enough change for a lifetime."
My laughter faltered. There was a silence that stretched between us — familiar, deep, and slightly dangerous.
He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was soft, too soft. "I missed this," he said. "I missed you."
My heart skipped a beat. "Charles…"
He smiled sadly. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to see you smile again."
I looked at him, and for the first time in weeks, I felt seen — not controlled, not owned, just seen.
---
(Damien's POV)
The metal hum of the bunker filled the silence. I'd been watching her for hours, pretending the blinking screens were just business, that the cameras weren't aimed at her.
But when I saw him — when I saw Charles — walk through my gate, something inside me twisted dark.
Her laughter hit me first. It wasn't the forced, nervous laughter she gave me when she tried to calm my temper. It was light, free, unguarded.
I hadn't heard her sound like that in months.
Charles leaned close. She smiled.
He touched her hair.
My hand slammed down on the steel console, rattling every screen.
The guards outside froze — I could see them glance at the hidden cameras. I didn't care.
On the screen, Evelyn was laughing again, and it burned more than her tears ever did.
She was supposed to be safe. Mine. Protected. Not… happy because of someone else.
"Charles," I said, my voice a low growl that vibrated against the metal walls. "You've overstayed your welcome."
The part of me that still knew reason whispered to stay put — that she needed space. That I'd done enough damage.
But reason was gone.
I rose from the chair slowly, my reflection glinting off the cold monitor screens. Every camera followed her as she smiled up at him again, and I felt the slow crack of something inside me — something darker than jealousy.
She didn't even know I was still here.
She thought I was in another country while some other man made her laugh.
And maybe that was the part that broke me most.
---
(Evelyn's POV)
"Charles," I said softly, trying to find words. "You shouldn't have come."
He smiled faintly. "Then why are you smiling like that?"
I opened my mouth — but the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway.
My stomach dropped.
That walk. That slow, deliberate rhythm.
No. Impossible.
Charles looked toward the house. "Who's that?"
The sound grew louder, heavier. My pulse went wild.
When the tall shadow appeared at the edge of the garden steps, my breath caught.
He was supposed to be in Beijing.
Damien Vale — no, Damien Kane — was standing there, expression unreadable, eyes like fire restrained behind ice.
Charles straightened instinctively, sensing danger. "Evelyn…?"
Damien didn't even glance at him. His gaze was fixed on me. Only me.
The air between us turned razor-sharp.
And then, in that deep, terrifyingly calm voice, he said,
"Having fun, Evelyn?"