Evelyn POV
I adjusted the silk scarf around my neck, letting the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my bedroom survey me. The Hart estate wasn't just a home — it was a cage wrapped in marble and gold. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive perfume, a scent that had been drummed into my memory since childhood. It should have been comforting, but it never was. Comfort was for Miranda, my sister, the golden wolf of the family pack, the one everyone loved and everyone listened to.
I finished brushing my hair, letting the smooth strands fall over my shoulders, and glanced at the clock. Breakfast would be over soon. My father, of course, would be in his office on the 40th floor of Hart Enterprises, shaking hands with shareholders and clients who adored him for being cold but sharp. My mother would likely already have spoken ten words to Miranda about some foundation or gala or another social maneuver that would make her look perfect and me invisible.
Perfect.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway, where the cold marble floor beneath my bare feet reminded me of all the warmth I'd never received. My parents were in the dining room, their voices carrying through the open doors like music I wasn't allowed to dance to.
"…and thanks to Miranda, Hart Enterprises is expanding into three new international markets. Her negotiation with the Eldridge investors was flawless," my father said, his voice measured, approving.
"She truly has the instincts of an Alpha," my mother added, a hint of pride in her tone. "It's no wonder Adrian Cross' family is so eager to have her in their orbit. A perfect match."
I stopped at the doorway, pretending to pour myself some tea. My reflection in the silver tea pot showed only the calm mask I'd perfected over years. I wanted to scream. The perfect match. The golden child. Never you, Evelyn. Never you.
Miranda didn't notice me. Of course she didn't. She was busy telling my mother about her strategy to expand Hart Enterprises' foundation into a more international scope, her words precise, commanding, Alpha-like, as if she were running a pack, not a family. And in a way, she was. I was just… me. The Omega. The one everyone could forget without even realizing.
I took a sip of tea, deliberately slow, letting the warmth spread through me. Not comfort — just heat. I had learned early on that comfort didn't exist in the Hart house for anyone who wasn't golden. And I wasn't golden. I was overlooked, underestimated, dismissed. The only protection I ever got was fleeting, temporary, and often came in the form of Adrian Cross during childhood — a boy betrothed to my sister, always hovering like a secondary Alpha, quietly protective but never claiming what he should have, never acknowledging what he felt.
I could remember the small things: the way he'd shield me from Miranda's sharper jabs when we were kids, or the quiet look he gave when our father dismissed my ideas. He was like a silent packmate who knew I didn't belong, yet still cared. And then he was gone, whisked away abroad for schooling and whatever family duties he needed to fulfill. That was when I decided that I didn't need protection anymore. I didn't need anyone. I could survive. I could leave. I could become something.
I will be eighteen in a few days. And I had a plan.
After breakfast, I would check my emails again — the modeling agency in Milan had finally sent their response. A tryout, an opportunity, a life outside the suffocating hierarchy of my family. I would leave, and nothing would stop me. Not Miranda, not my parents, not even Adrian Cross if he came back.
I set my tea down and walked past the library, where my father often conducted "family business lessons" for Miranda. He lectured her about contracts, negotiations, and shareholder meetings. Alpha lessons for the Golden Daughter, whispered my brain, a bitter joke I let hang in the air. I stopped at the doorway, listening.
"…we can increase Hart Enterprises' leverage by at least twenty percent if we move into these markets this quarter," Miranda said, her tone sharp, precise, commanding.
My father chuckled softly, pleased. "You're right, Miranda. That's exactly the kind of strategic thinking I wanted to see. Evelyn, perhaps you should take notes?"
I froze. Notes. Notes? He barely remembered my name half the time unless he needed me to fetch something or reflect his family image. I didn't respond. I didn't need to. Miranda didn't even notice the slight shift in my posture — the flicker of irritation in my eyes.
I had learned to be invisible in these rooms. But invisibility had its uses. I could watch, I could plan, and I could dream.
My phone buzzed on the side table. A quick glance showed the email subject line that made my heart skip: Milan Agency – Invitation to Audition.
I held my breath and opened it. The words on the screen were simple, professional, but to me, they were everything: "We were impressed with your portfolio. We invite you to Milan for a tryout. This is your opportunity to shine on the international stage."
I could feel my pulse quicken. My fingers shook slightly as I imagined the runway, the cameras, the chance to finally step out of my family's shadow. This was it. Freedom. Autonomy. Independence.
I could almost hear the whispers of my mind — freedom, freedom, freedom — louder than the praise for Miranda that still echoed through the halls. And for the first time in my life, I let myself believe it could happen.
Then, as if the universe loved irony, my thoughts shifted to Adrian Cross.
I hadn't seen him in years. Not since he left for his education abroad. And yet, I had heard whispers, subtle hints that he might be returning soon — a social gala, perhaps, or some family business arrangement that would bring him back into our city. My stomach twisted. Because even though I didn't need him, even though I had decided long ago that he could never be mine, the idea of his presence… unsettled me.
I pushed the thought away. No. He was part of a past I had already resolved. My future was Milan, runways, and independence. Not him. Not Adrian. Not Miranda. Not any of the endless expectations that had suffocated me for eighteen long years.
I changed into a simple outfit for the day, packing a small bag to run errands before dinner — nothing elaborate, nothing to draw attention. My reflection caught me in the hallway mirror again, and I noticed the small confidence in my posture, the glint of determination in my eyes. This was me. Evelyn Hart. And for once, I wasn't the overlooked one.
I grabbed my bag and walked toward the front door, pausing just long enough to hear my mother praise Miranda's social eloquence again. The words stung, but I let them roll off me. They belonged to a world I was leaving behind.
Outside, the city waited — loud, bustling, unpredictable. And I, for the first time, was ready to meet it head-on.
I didn't know that my carefully crafted plan was about to collide with reality in the form of someone I had once called protector, someone betrothed to my sister, someone whose presence would threaten everything I had built.
But that, I reminded myself as I stepped into the bright morning sun, would be a problem for another day. Today… today was mine.