"Since you're so eager to back out, I assume you're not as desperate for the cash as the market suggests," Evelyn said, her voice like silk over gravel.
Lucien Hale studied her for a long moment, his analytical gaze lingering on her sharp, defiant features. He wasn't used to being outnegotiated—certainly not by a woman the world considered "broken."
"Fine," Lucien conceded, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "If you can clear the full wire transfer by Monday, I'll knock off another million. Consider it a discount for your... persistent tongue."
Nora practically vibrated with excitement beside her, gripping Evelyn's arm until it bruised. "Evelyn! That's incredible! A million dollars!"
Evelyn maintained her mask of cold indifference, but a spark of dark satisfaction flickered in her chest. It seemed the "Good Doctor" did have a price for his ego. Or perhaps, she had finally insulted him into a state of sudden, expensive clarity.
They finalized the paperwork in a flurry of ink and trembling hands from the real estate agent. Evelyn signed with a sharp, elegant flourish, then leaned back and extended her hand. "The keys. And the codes for the parking bays. I need them now."
Lucien's brow furrowed. He waited until the agent stepped out before leaning in, his presence overwhelming. "A thirty-four-million-dollar penthouse. A luxury sedan. Where does a ghost like you find that kind of liquidity, Evelyn?"
"None of your business, Lucien," she shot back. The words hit him like a physical slap. He didn't ask again; he was a man of logic, and clearly, the logic of Evelyn Carter had rewritten itself in the dark.
As they watched Lucien's black Koenigsegg roar out of the lot, Evelyn turned to Nora. "Does your 'saint' still look like a hero, or does he look like a man who just bought a five-million-dollar toy to distract himself from his own emptiness?"
Nora was speechless. "Evelyn, you're brutal."
"The world is brutal, Nora. He just dresses it in a tailored suit." They drove to the penthouse, walking through the sprawling, glass-walled rooms. Evelyn pushed open the door to a secondary suite. "Move in, Nora. I'm not living in this museum alone, and I know your dorm is a nightmare."
"I can't afford the rent here!" Nora gasped.
"I'm not charging you rent. I'm buying a partner. We have work to do, and I'd rather do it over expensive wine than in a staff room."
Nora's eyes filled with tears, a rare moment of genuine warmth that Evelyn quickly brushed off. But as they drove back to the Carter mansion, the warmth died. Evelyn knew her family was a cornered animal, and cornered animals were prone to biting.
When Evelyn entered the mansion, the air was thick with a rehearsed, suffocating silence. Eleanor and Iris sat in the living room, their eyes following her like hawks tracking a stray.
"Out again?" Eleanor asked, her voice tight with maternal theater. "You're unwell, Evelyn. You should be resting, not wandering the city."
"I'm more afraid of the 'sickness' inside this house than anything outside of it," Evelyn replied, heading straight for her room.
As she set her bag down, her eyes immediately locked onto the book on her nightstand. She was a woman of survivalist habits—the tassel on her bookmark had been perfectly straight this morning. Now, it was tangled. Someone had been in her room.
Evelyn didn't panic. She calmly stripped the bed, checking for more filth. The sheets were clean, but her fingers stopped when she reached the pillow. Hidden beneath the fabric were two items: a pigeon-blood ruby necklace and a heavy mutton-fat jade bracelet—Eleanor's most prized family heirloom.
Evelyn let out a cold, sharp laugh. Pathetic. Iris was finally making her move. This wasn't just a theft; it was an execution. If these were found in her room, it wouldn't be an eviction—it would be a prison sentence.
The performance started after dinner.
"Mom! Have you seen my necklace?" Iris's voice rang out from the balcony, trembling with a perfect mix of panic and sorrow. "The one Lucas gave me? It's gone!"
The house erupted. Eleanor and Robert rushed upstairs, and soon the entire family was involved in a frantic, staged "search." Evelyn stayed in her room, calmly reading a financial textbook, listening to the footsteps thundering toward her door.
"It's not here!" Iris sobbed. "It's my engagement gift! How could it just vanish?"
"Strange," Eleanor murmured, her voice laced with venom. "A house full of staff, and only one person who wasn't with us last night..."
The mob moved. Eleanor burst into Evelyn's room without knocking. "Evelyn! Did you take your sister's things?"
"Take what?" Evelyn looked up, a mask of bored curiosity.
"You know what! My ruby necklace! And Mom's jade bracelet!" Iris shouted, hiding behind her mother.
"I haven't seen them," Evelyn said simply.
"Liar!" Grant stepped forward, wearing latex gloves and a surgical mask—a cruel reminder of their disdain. "I'm going to search this room. If you've got nothing to hide, you won't mind."
Evelyn shrugged. "Be my guest."
Grant tore the room apart. He emptied drawers, shook out her few clothes, and finally lunged for the bed. He grabbed the pillow and shook it. He stripped the mattress.
Nothing.
The room went deathly silent. Iris's face drained of color, her eyes wide with a genuine, visceral panic. She had tucked them right under the corner of the pillow herself.
"Found them?" Evelyn asked, her voice a sharp, mocking blade.
"There's... there's nothing here," Grant muttered.
Iris's composure fractured. "That's impossible! They have to be here! You must have moved them!"
"How would I know to move something I didn't know was there, Iris?" Evelyn stood up, her presence suddenly filling the small room. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for her sister. "Admit it, Iris. Admit you were the one who spoke to the traffickers three years ago. Admit you traded me for this life, and I'll give you back your baubles. A trade for a trade."
Iris recoiled, her voice a frantic shriek. "I don't know what you're talking about! You're insane! Dad! Mom! She's threatening me!"
"Stop it!" Robert's roar shook the walls. He looked at Evelyn with pure, unadulterated hatred. "This house is in ruins because of you! If you don't like it here, get out! We are not going to suffer for your misfortune forever!"
Evelyn looked at her father. The pain flared in her chest, but she smothered it with ice. "I did nothing," she said, her voice trembling with controlled fury. "And yet, I am the one on trial. Tell me, Mother... who is your biological daughter? Me, or the one who cries on cue?"
Eleanor winced, looking away. "Let's go, Iris. We'll find them. Maybe you misplaced them."
"No! I want my necklace!" Iris sobbed. She knew that if those jewels stayed with Evelyn, they were a ticking time bomb.
Evelyn watched them, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her lips. She reached into the pocket of her oversized hoodie and pulled out the blood-red rubies and the pale jade.
"Are these what you're looking for?" she asked, the jewels swinging like a pendulum in the dim light.
The silence that followed was absolute. The trap had just snapped shut—but the teeth were buried in Iris's neck.