Chapter 2

Even after Evelyn Hart was wheeled out of the operating room, the shock of the conversation she’d just had continued to reverberate in her ears.

The physical pain was dull and lingering, but what consumed her mind now were the grievances that had been piling up for eight years.

The first time she’d caught Adrian Whitmore crossing the line was when he was organizing an art exhibition for Vanessa Sinclair.

The man who needed his assistant to remind him of his own wife’s birthday had somehow managed to remember the date of Vanessa’s exhibition without anyone prompting him. He’d gone out of his way to secure resources and arrange meetings with collectors for her.

And the exhibition’s opening day happened to fall on the first day of their honeymoon.

He’d broken his promise.

Evelyn had stood alone at the airport with her suitcase, waiting from dawn until nightfall. It wasn’t until the flight had departed that she finally received a cold cancellation notification on her phone.

When Adrian returned that evening, she confronted him. He merely furrowed his brows.

“She reminds me of who you were back then. I just wanted to make up for what you missed out on.”

But Evelyn was standing right in front of him, alive and well.

And his idea of making amends was filling Vanessa’s walk-in closet with the handbags Evelyn had once been too reluctant to buy for herself.

It was putting the villa Evelyn had never gotten to live in under Vanessa’s name as if it were nothing.

Evelyn had demanded that he explain the difference between the eighteen-year-old Evelyn and Vanessa Sinclair. All she got in return was even more resistance and resentment.

The guilt in his eyes gradually gave way to impatience. As if out of spite, he grew closer and closer to Vanessa.

He attended her private parties and spent every holiday with her.

From birthdays to New Year’s Eve, he gave away every occasion that should have belonged to his wife.

Eventually, he began spending nights in Vanessa’s bed, no longer bothering to hide the affair.

Everyone said Evelyn had driven Adrian away with her own hands.

She was too crazy, they said, and that was why she’d pushed him further and further away.

But he was the one who had betrayed her. Why was she the one condemned to carry the label of a madwoman?

The anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off, but tears welled up before she could stop them.

Evelyn picked up her phone. Her fingers lingered over the screen for a long time before she dialed the number she knew by heart.

The moment the call connected, she heard a chair scrape against the floor on the other end. Adrian was getting up to leave his seat.

The surrounding noise soon faded. A hint of tension crept into his voice.

“Evelyn? Are you feeling unwell?”

Over the years, whenever her emotions spiraled out of control, her physical health tended to suffer as well. He’d grown accustomed to asking her that question.

Evelyn tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m hungry. Have someone bring me a bowl of soup at the hospital.”

There was a noticeable pause in his breathing.

The next second, she heard the rustle of clothing.

After a brief burst of commotion, his voice tightened with anxiety.

“Which hospital? What happened to you?”

Someone in the background called out, asking where he was going. Without even pausing, he hurriedly replied, “Evelyn needs me.”

As soon as he said it, someone laughed.

“Look at Adrian. He’s played the role so long he’s starting to believe it himself.”

“Shut up.”

His voice immediately turned cold, carrying an unmistakable warning.

The private room fell silent.

Listening to his hurried breathing over the phone, Evelyn suddenly felt like laughing.

Was this panic-stricken concern just another performance, too?

She didn’t have to wait long before the hospital room door was flung open.

Adrian strode inside.

His clothes were slightly disheveled, and he was breathing heavily. Yet the moment he entered, his eyes immediately found Evelyn.

“Why are you so pale? What exactly is wrong?”

He cupped her face in both hands, his gaze sweeping over her features with unmistakable concern.

Evelyn didn’t answer. She simply looked at him calmly.

“Adrian Whitmore, are you enjoying the act?”