4

Evelyn's POV

The silence was awkward for a long moment,

“You eaten?” Zeke finally asked, breaking it with his gravel-thick voice.

I shook my head. “I ordered food, but it’ll take a while. Delivery here is….slow.”

“Figures,” he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. “I just came from the airport. Dead on my feet. Before I say more I'll be going upstairs. Shower. Then I’ll make something for myself… and for you.”

I blinked. “For me?”

He shot me a flat look. “What, you think I’ll let you starve in my house?”

“It’s not your—” I stopped, biting the inside of my cheek.

Zeke smirked, almost daring me to finish. Then he tossed his jacket over a chair and strode toward the staircase. “Sit tight. Don’t touch anything.”

I sat at the edge of the table, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag, half-expecting him to change his mind and throw me out anyway. My stomach growled in protest.

When he came back, he looked sharper, cleaner, his hair damp and his shirt clinging in a way that made me look away too quickly. He rolled his sleeves and moved into the kitchen like he’d been born there, pulling out ingredients I hadn’t even noticed stocked.

“Pasta,” he announced in his accented English. “Something simple, al dente. There is no crime worse than overcooked pasta.”

“You cook?” I asked, incredulous.

He arched a brow. “What? You assumed I live on takeout and whiskey?”

I didn’t answer. He smirked and muttered something in Italian, sharp quick syllables I couldn’t catch before tossing garlic and oil into a pan. The kitchen filled with the warm, rich scent almost immediately.

“Smells good,” I admitted quietly.

“Of course it does. I’m a food-oriented Italian on my mother's side.” He flicked me a look over his shoulder, dark eyes glinting. “It’s in the blood.”

For a moment, watching him move with ease, it was easy to forget the knife that had been at my throat less than an hour ago.

When he finally slid the plate in front of me, steam I murmured a simple thanks.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, sitting across from me with his own plate. “Eat. Then we talk.”

I twirled the pasta nervously.

Finally, I forced myself to speak. "Why did you come back?".

“I came back,” he said slowly, deliberately, “because I realized this isn’t a joke anymore.”

“What isn’t?”

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. “Damien.”

“What about him?”

Zeke’s voice turned like steel. “He’s been embezzling from my company."

The fork slipped from my fingers and clattered against the plate.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Damien has been what?”

“Yes.” Zeke’s mouth curled bitterly. “Your perfect green-flag husband? He has been bleeding me dry. And now…” His eyes burned into mine. “Now I want to know how much you knewabout it.”

I blinked at him, “I never knew,” I whispered, shaking my head so hard my hair fell into my face. “Zeke, I swear....I didn’t know a thing like that. Damien? Embezzling? That doesn’t even make sense.”

Zeke didn’t blink.

“He is a successful man,” I pushed, desperation tightening my voice. “He already owns his company. He is.... he is a millionaire. Why would he need to steal?”

Zeke’s laugh was hollow, sharp, dangerous. “Because greed doesn’t care how many zeroes are already in the account.”

He leaned forward, “Damien didn’t build his empire alone. I was the pioneer. Me.” His words came hard and firm. “He perfected the act, yes, but don’t mistake polish for purity. A man that smooth? He is the very one who’ll steal in billions and still smile while shaking your hand.”

Billions.

Woah..

I gripped my knees under the table, “Zeke… if what you’re saying is true, then...then I really didn’t know. I never knew.”

“Then you’d better start deciding where you stand, Evelyn.”

“This must all be a big misunderstanding,” I said quickly, almost tripping over the words. My palms were slick against my thighs. “Zeke, you don’t know Damien the way I do. He is terrified of your father. It’s very possible your father could have done this, and then pinned it all on Damien.”

I swallowed hard, forcing a nervous laugh. “Yes, Damien may have betrayed me, humiliated me, but he is still a good man. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t do something like this.”

The laugh cracked halfway out of me. I pressed my hand to my mouth, shaking my head. “My problem has always been that I trust too much. I trusted him with my whole heart. And maybe that was foolish. But even now, some part of me wants to trust that he is the image he pretends to be, a good, clean man, not…” My voice broke. “Not this fraud you’re describing.”

Zeke’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t bother arguing. He just reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone, and tossed it on the table. The screen glowed with a thread of text messages.

My blood ran cold.

I picked it up, scanning the lines. They were damning....conversations that sounded like Damien, colluding with Mr. Blackwood. Mentions of “fund movement” and “silent removal.” could clearly be noted.

"I paid someone to get these, to hack into his phone.” Zeke said flatly. “I wanted to know why money was leaking out of my accounts. Why my systems were crashing. Turns out, my competitor wasn’t the enemy. My own brother and father were. That virus that took down my tech division? It was bought by Damien and father."

I looked up at him, horrified.

“Not only did they steal from me, Evelyn, they gutted me. They sabotaged everything I built. And now, the inheritance, which is rightfully mine, because I’ve been the one maintaining this company for years, is being handed to Damien on a silver platter.”

I would've never thought that in a thousand years, this could happen.

“I won’t take it,” he chuckled. “I worked too hard, bled too much for all my hard work. Damien can have my father’s affection and love. But he will never have what belongs to me.”

His eyes darkened further,

“I’ll make sure Damien regrets ever crawling out of our late mother’s womb.”