Chapter 7

Evangeline's POV

After leaving Theo's hospital room that day, I didn't go back to Jennifer's house.

I couldn't sit still, couldn't let myself think too much about the machines and the monitors and the terrible stillness of my son's small body.

Instead, I went back to the office I used to work in. I needed work—not just to earn money, but to distract myself from constantly thinking about Theo.

The office building looked exactly the same as I remembered—sleek glass and steel, the kind of place that demanded excellence. I'd spent three years here, building a reputation as someone who could handle any crisis, no matter how impossible it seemed.

Crisis management. That's what I'd done. What I'd been damn good at.

Companies called me when their reputations were on fire. When scandals threatened to destroy them. When they needed someone who could think three steps ahead, anticipate every move, and turn disaster into opportunity.

I'd loved it. The challenge. The pressure. The satisfaction of solving problems that no one else could crack.

Then I'd gotten married and pregnant with Theo. 

So I'd quit. Given it all up.

For what? For a marriage that was never real? For a man who'd never loved me?

My heels clicked against the marble floor as I rode the elevator to the twelfth floor.

The doors opened to reveal familiar faces—colleagues who remembered me, who broke into surprised smiles when they saw me.

"Evangeline!" Lucas Hill burst out of his office, his face lit up with genuine excitement. "You're actually here."

Lucas had been my business partner when we'd started the company together six years ago. He was brilliant, sharp, strategic, with an instinct for human behavior that made him invaluable in crisis situations.

"I'm here," I said simply. "And I need work."

His smile faded slightly, replaced by concern. "Jen told me what happened. About the divorce. About Theo. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I need this," I corrected. "Theo's medical bills aren't going to pay themselves. And I need something to focus on besides..." I trailed off, unable to finish.

Lucas nodded. "Okay. Then I have exactly what you need. Come on."

He led me into the conference room where files were spread across the table. "Our biggest client right now. Potentially our most lucrative deal. Also the most challenging."

I picked up the top folder, scanning the contents. "Victor Montgomery?"

"The one and only." Lucas leaned against the table. "Heir to the Montgomery fortune. Socialite. Host of the most exclusive events in the city. And currently facing a PR nightmare that's threatening to destroy his reputation."

I flipped through the pages. Investment fraud allegations. Accusations of embezzlement from his late father's estate. Rumors of affairs and financial misconduct.

"Three different firms have already turned him down," Lucas continued. "They all said he was impossible to work with. Too demanding. The case is too complex, too public."

"And you think I can handle it?" I looked up at him.

"Evangeline, you're the best crisis manager I've ever worked with. You see angles no one else sees. You can predict reactions before they happen. You know how to control narratives." He grinned. "If anyone can save Victor Montgomery's reputation, it's you."

I studied the file again. This was big. Complicated. High-profile. The kind of case that could make or break a career.

The kind of case I used to live for.

"I'll need full access to his financial records," I said, my mind already racing ahead. "His legal team. His social calendar. Everything."

"Done." Lucas's grin widened. "I knew you'd take it. He'll be thrilled. Well, thrilled in his own terrifying way."

We spent the next several hours going over the details. Victor's history. The accusations. The evidence both for and against him. I took notes, asked questions, began building a strategy in my mind.

This was what I was good at. Not playing housewife. Not swallowing insults from Marguerite. Not pretending to be satisfied with a marriage that was nothing but obligation.

By the time I left the office, it was dark outside. My phone showed seven missed calls from Dashiell and one text message.

[We're having dinner at Grandfather's house tomorrow evening. 7 PM. Don't be late.]

Then another message:

[This is important. Don't make this difficult.]

I stared at the texts for a long moment, then locked my phone without responding.

I didn't owe him anything. Not my time. Not my obedience. Not an explanation.

My phone rang again. But this time, the name on the screen made me pause.

Richard Hart. Dashiell's grandfather.

I hesitated, then answered. "Grandpa?"

"Evangeline, my dear." His voice was warm and affectionate. "How are you? I feel like I haven't seen you and Theo in ages."

My throat tightened. Richard had always been kind to me. He was the one who'd arranged the betrothal between our families, who'd insisted that Dashiell honor the agreement even after my parents died.

"We've been busy," I said carefully. "You know how it is."

"I do. Which is why I'm calling." He paused. "I'd like to have dinner with you and Dashiell tomorrow evening. At the house. Nothing formal, just family."

My stomach sank. "Grandpa, I don't think—"

"I've been hearing some concerning rumors, Evangeline. About Dashiell and some woman named Sabrina." His tone turned serious. "I'm hoping you can help me understand what's going on."

So he'd heard. But clearly not the whole story.

"How is Theo?" he continued before I could respond. "I'd love to see him. It's been too long."

He didn't know. Didn't know about the accident. Didn't know about the coma.

Didn't know about the divorce.

"Theo's..." I struggled to find words. "He's been having a difficult time lately."

"All the more reason for a family dinner. It'll do him good to spend time with his great-grandfather. And it'll give us a chance to talk about these rumors I keep hearing." His voice softened.

"I know marriage is hard, dear. But whatever problems you and Dashiell are having, we can work through them. That's what family does."

Family.

I almost laughed. Almost told him that his grandson had divorced me to marry another woman. That his great-grandson was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That there was no family left to save.

But Richard Hart was a good man. A kind man. One of the few people in the Hart family who'd ever treated me with genuine respect.

"Seven o'clock tomorrow?" he asked.

I closed my eyes. "Yes, sir. We'll be there."

He hung up, and I stood there in the parking lot, exhaustion finally catching up to me.

Tomorrow. Dinner with Dashiell's grandfather. Pretending everything was fine. Pretending we were still a family.

But first, I needed to see Theo.

I drove to the hospital, my hands tight on the steering wheel. It was late—past visiting hours—but Ethan had given me special permission to come and go as I needed.

I took the elevator to the fourth floor, walking the now-familiar path to Theo's room.

But when I pushed open the door, my heart stopped.

The bed was empty.