Chapter 188

A storm of emotions crashed over Evelyn Carter. Fury and heartache twisted inside her chest like twin vipers. She knew better than anyone—

No girl spiraled into darkness without reason.

Every fall from grace had its origin story.

"Why didn't you report him?" Her jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached. The image of that monster in shreds flashed behind her eyelids.

Rosalind Fairchild gave a hollow laugh, fingers pausing over her keyboard. "Her mother was a ghost. Couldn't shield her kids from a summer breeze, let alone predators. Gambling dens were her only talent."

She adjusted her glasses, resuming her frantic typing. "You're different. Charismatic. Resilient. With a billionaire husband wrapped around your finger?" A sardonic smirk. "Blood ties or not, they'll suck you dry like leeches."

Evelyn's breath hitched. She pressed her palms against her closed eyelids until stars exploded in the darkness.

The past was a minefield. Now the Blackwoods were stumbling into it blind. Revealing her truth now? Impossible. The weight of it threatened to crack her ribs.

Rosalind's keyboard clattered like gunfire. "What are you writing?" Evelyn finally asked.

"Ghostwriting gig. Trashy romance novel." Rosalind snorted. "Plot's thinner than tissue paper, but the paycheck clears by midnight."

Evelyn's throat tightened. "You don't have to—"

"You borrowed that money from someone too, didn't you?" Rosalind's gaze never left the screen. "Debts don't pay themselves."

Silence stretched. Evelyn curled onto the couch, resting her head against Rosalind's shoulder. The glow of the laptop painted them both blue.

"Get me a job?" The request slipped out softer than intended.

Rosalind's fingers stilled. "Skills?"

"Eight languages. Piano. Basic chemistry." Evelyn counted off on her fingers. "I paint, but only for charity. That was... important to me. Before."

The keyboard went silent. Rosalind swiveled slowly, eyes wide. "Either you're delusional or a walking Renaissance fair."

Evelyn's laugh tasted bitter.

"Fluency or tourist phrases?"

"Dreamt in Mandarin last week."

Rosalind whistled. "Corporate translations. Publishing houses pay fortunes for that." She nudged Evelyn's knee. "We're hitting job boards tomorrow."

———

The call came as Evelyn booted up her laptop. Liam Blackwood's private number glared from the screen like a warning.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she answered.

"Two PM. City Hall." His voice was Arctic ice. "Bring the divorce papers."

The line died before she could exhale.

Evelyn sat frozen on the bed, phone digging into her palm. The pain came in waves—sharp, then dull, then sharp again. No tears. Just a vise around her lungs stealing every breath.

The clock ticked louder.

Each second a hammer to the ribs.