CHAPTER ONE: "HAVE WE MET BEFORE"

Evangeline reached her building just after sunrise. Her legs ached from the night shift. Her hands were cold. Her eyes burned. All she wanted was to lie down on her small bed and rest for a few minutes.

She pushed her key into the lock of her studio apartment. The hallway was quiet. Only the hum of the old light above her head filled the space.

But the moment she opened her door, her body froze.

Someone was inside.

Her breath caught as her eyes moved to the bed and there he was.

Damien.

Her half brother. The one who never spoke to her unless it was to remind her of her place, to mock her for being born.

He sat on her bed like he owned it, one leg crossed over the other, his arm resting on his knee. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t greet her. He simply stared around her tiny apartment with an empty, annoyed expression, like even the air offended him.

Eva closed the door with shaky fingers.

“Damien, you’re here.”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he lifted a brow and snorted softly.

“So this is how you live.” His voice carried disgust, sharp and clear. “I thought you had at least some pride, but I guess I gave you too much credit.”

Eva stayed by the door, her back pressed against it. She did not trust her legs to move.

Damien’s gaze drifted to her mini fridge. He stood and opened it without asking. When he saw the near-empty shelves, he laughed under his breath.

“No food. Not even something cheap.”

He shut the fridge as if touching it dirtied him. “How useless can you be? You can’t even feed yourself. Of course you can’t. Why would you? You’re only good for one thing in this family.”

Eva stayed quiet. She learned long ago that speaking only made things worse.

Damien reached for a bag sitting beside him and tossed it toward her feet.

“Pick it up.”

Eva hesitated, then bent down to take the bag. Inside it was a black designer dress. Soft. Expensive. She knew one thing, the more expensive the gown, the more important the party was.

Her stomach tightened.

“You’re going to the party tonight,” Damien said even though she already suspect that. “Stella needs to look perfect, so don’t you dare ruin anything.”

He took a small stack of cash from his pocket and threw it on the floor in front of her.

“Use that for makeup.”

Eva crouched again to pick up the money.

Before she could touch it, a sharp weight slammed down on her hand.

She gasped at the pain.

Damien had stepped on her. Hard.

“Not too much makeup,” he said calmly, his shoe grinding against her skin. “You must not outshine Stella. Know your place.”

Eva bit down on her lip so she wouldn’t cry out.

When he finally moved his foot, she pulled her hand to her chest. It throbbed badly. The skin was already turning red.

Damien looked down at her on the floor.

He smiled, slow and cruel.

“There,” he said softly. “Right where you belong.”

His eyes darkened with something ugly. “The daughter of a mistress should stay low. Don’t forget that.”

He walked past her and out of the apartment without another word.

The door slammed behind him.

Eva stayed on the ground for a long moment, holding her hand, breathing through the sting. Her eyes were hot with tears, but she didn’t let them fall.

When she could finally stand, she picked up the cash and the dress with her uninjured hand. She set them on the bed and sat beside them.

Another party.

Another night where she would be there only for the cameras.

A shadow behind her perfect sister.

She closed her eyes, tired in a way that reached her bones.

Across the city, Roman De Luca leaned back in his chair as Matteo placed an envelope in front of him.

“A new party,” Matteo said. “From the Hart.”

Roman did not touch the envelope. “What kind of party?”

“A pre-launch event, so they say. But the list of guests, mostly men.” Matteo lowered his voice. “It’s obvious it just a matchmaking setup. A suitor selection for the eldest daughter. Stella.”

Roman’s fingers tapped his desk. His expression did not change, but something sharp flickered in his eyes.

“And you want to know what you should do,” Roman said.

Matteo nodded. “I doubt they want you there. But they only did it to avoid making themselve look back in your eyes. You don’t need to attend, people understand someone as powerful as you would be too busy”

Roman’s mouth curved slightly. Not a smile. Something deeper, quieter.

“Accept the invitation,” Roman said.

Matteo blinked. “Are you certain? What if”

Roman finally picked up the envelope, tearing it open. “No what if. She might be there.”

Matteo froze. “You don’t mean”

Roman didn’t answer. He only leaned back, eyes half-lidded, a strange calm settling over him.

“Tell them I’ll come,” he firmly stated, his eyes amuse, relax, calculating.

The next evening, Eva stood outside her apartment building, her hair neatly done, her makeup light, just as she was told. The dress Damien had brought fit her perfectly, hugging her slim figure without being too bold.

A car stopped in front of her.

A driver stepped out and opened the door.

“Miss Evangeline,” he said with a polite bow. “Your family asked me to bring you.”

Not Damien.

Not Stella.

Not anyone she knew.

It was better that way.

Eva got into the car silently, folding her hands on her lap.

The drive to the Hart estate was smooth, but her chest tightened the closer they got. Every time she returned to that house, she felt like she was stepping into a life she did not belong to.

When the car door opened, Damien was there, smiling wide as cameras flashed nearby.

“Eva!” he said loudly, pulling her into a hug that was more for show than affection. “My dear sister. You look nice tonight.”

She stiffened but forced a polite smile.

Her father appeared next, kissing her forehead. “We missed you at home,” he said warmly. “You know, she wanted to find herself, define her worth without my money” He added, like he had not thrown hr out the minute she turned 18.

Stella stepped forward in a pale gold gown. Bright, golden hair curled around her shoulders. She hugged Eva tightly.

“Oh Eva,” Stella said, voice sweet. “You’re glowing tonight.”

Damien’s voice cut through.

“Eva would look much prettier if she wore more makeup. But she likes being modest.”

A few nearby guests chuckled.

Eva smiled again, small and controlled.

Then her father’s wife walked in. Her expression gentle, her voice soft.

“Eva, darling, you’re slimming down. You should come home for dinner more often. We miss you.”

People around them began whispering words of praise.

“What a loving woman.”

“She treats Eva like her own.”

“So kind, so warm.”

Photos were taken. Cameras flashed. Everyone looked so happy.

Except Eva.

After a while, the attention shifted to Stella, as it always did. People gathered around her, praising her beauty, her grace, her importance.

Eva slipped away quietly, unnoticed, as she always was.

She entered the car park behind the estate and sat on a low ledge. She carried a few drinks with her. She opened the first bottle and drank slowly, letting the cold liquid steady her shaking hands.

Her chest hurt. Not from Damien’s step on her hand.

From everything else.

She drank the second bottle faster.

The third even quicker.

She didn’t hear the noise of the party going silent.

She didn’t hear the change in the atmosphere.

She didn’t see the guests parting as someone important entered.

She didn’t see Roman De Luca walk in.

She only felt a sudden presence behind her.

But she ignored it, wiping her face and reaching for another drink.

Her fingers brushed an empty bottle.

Before she could stand to get another, a hand appeared in front of her, holding out a clean glass.

She froze.

Her breath caught.

She turned slowly.

A man stood there. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark brown hair, almost black. Storm-grey eyes that looked at her with a strange, quiet intensity. His suit fit him perfectly. His presence filled the entire space.

Her heart thudded once, hard.

She took the glass without thinking.

His eyes didn’t leave her face.

Something in his gaze felt too familiar.

Eva swallowed, her voice soft.

“Have we met?”

Roman’s eyes lowered to her lips for a second.

Then he looked back into her eyes.

His voice was deep, steady, and certain.

“Not officially.”