Marriage Proposal : My Traumatic Love

Evelyn’s POV

I had truly believed Eric was my soulmate in years that we married. He had appeared in my life when I was at my lowest to save and love me.

Until I overheard him speaking with his assistant.

“The whole reason I married Evelyn was to keep her under control—so she wouldn’t have the chance to interfere with Isabella’s perfect marriage.”

In that moment, I realized our marriage was never built on love. It was a carefully crafted lie… all for another woman.

The laughter in the room didn’t fade; it only grew louder, more mocking, more suffocating.

Adam’s voice rang out, like praising, “Hadn’t I picked the two perfect scums then, Boss? Even Evelyn killed one of them, the other still kept his mouth shut”

Eric scoffed, the sound low. “Anyway I was planning to send Evelyn onto one of my regular shipment trip. The police are onto us. Since she’s been to prison once, I figured she won’t mind going back again and covering for me.”

Adam replied smoothly. “She’ll jump at that chance, Boss. She’s always seen herself as your equal, always wanting to help around. If you tell her you need her for that drug shipment, she’ll be all in.”

A cruel laugh rippled through the room. “Boss, what if she finds out the truth? About what happened six years ago…”

Eric’s smirk was unmistakable. “A girl like her? Impossible. I’d shown up at her lowest. Now I say one word, and she’ll come crawling to me like the loyalest puppy.”

The rest of their conversation dissolved into an unintelligible blur, but those words—those words hung in the air like a noose around my neck.

I stood frozen at the door, my heart pounding so hard I wasn’t sure if I was going to faint or die on the spot.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting the scream that threatened to tear through me.

Footsteps grew closer. I turned and sprinted toward the stairs.

I ran, faster and faster, until I reached my house—or rather, Eric’s house.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey, the liquid burning its way down as I swallowed it in one go, desperate for anything to give me clarity.

It was only after that first drink that I could catch my breath.

Then the tears came, the sobs I had been holding in, the scream that had been clawing at my throat.

And the words Eric had just said… they kept playing on a loop in my mind.

…

The day before my wedding, I had been kidnapped by two scums.

They said they only wanted money—just money—but even after I handed over every last penny, they wouldn’t let me go.

Then they said they wanted more.

I had no choice but to call my fiancé, Alexander. He answered after three rings, and for that fleeting moment, I thought I was saved.

But what happened next destroyed everything.

Those two scums harassed me in front of that video chat. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left, ending up in killing one and injuring the other.

When my trial came, I thought Alexander would be there for me, that he would stand up for me, prove that I acted in self-defense.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he said to me, his voice cold and indifferent, “You disgust me, Evelyn. It must be because you’re such a slut that those men found you. Why else would they target you and not someone else?”

I cried. I screamed. I begged him.

I told him it wasn’t my fault. That I was just walking down a familiar alley on my way home, wearing a blouse and pants—nothing that should have drawn attention. That he needed to blame the scums who did these to me instead of blaming me.

I was the victim here.

But Alexander didn’t listen.

He decided it was my fault—that a man like him couldn’t survive a scandal like me being harassed. So, he turned his back on me. Left me to face the accusations alone.

And just like that, I was sentenced—two years in prison for homicide through negligence, not self-defense.

When I was finally released, I thought I could start over, that maybe, just maybe, life could give me a second chance.

Then I found out that Alexander had already moved on. He was married… to Isabella, my best friend, no less.

I thought I was doomed. Completely, utterly doomed.

Eric Graves appeared, like a flicker of hope cutting through the darkness in my life.

I had thought how could I possibly be good enough for him? He was the most powerful mafia leader in New York City, and I was just a woman with a record, nothing but shattered pieces to offer.

But Eric told me to never worry about being good enough, that he loved me for who I was.

Now, standing here, I realized that I had married the very monster who had made my life a living hell.

And to make it worse, he had shown up like some twisted savior, acting as if he were the answer to all my pain.

It all made sense now. When I left prison, and Isabella came to visit, I had noticed the strange look in her eyes. I had assumed it was because of my time in prison.

But no... she knew. She must have known. She knew that Eric had sent those scums to harass me, and she had mocked me for being so naïve, so blind to the truth.

Four years of love. Four years spent sharing a bed, sharing my life with Eric, and not once did he make me doubt what we had.

I balled my hands into fists, a storm of anger, sadness, and disbelief swirling inside me, threatening to tear me apart.

The door swung open, and Eric stepped in. His gaze immediately locked on me, his eyes softening when he saw my tears. His brow furrowed, and he rushed to my side, the picture of a concerned husband. “Who the hell made my babe cry?” His voice was low, dark, and dangerously coaxing. “I’ll kill that bastard for you.”

The room fell silent.

Eric, seeing me still unresponsive, didn’t wait. He pulled out his gun, pointing it around the room with an unsettling casualness. “Babe, just say the name. I’ll kill them for you.”

His gun swung over Adam’s face.

I could feel my pulse thundering in my chest.

“Stop.”

Adam’s eyes widened in disbelief. He trembled, clearly unable to control his fear.

“Hadn’t I picked the two perfect scums then, Boss?”

His words still echoed in my mind, replaying over and over again like a twisted melody.

Just as I was about to call Adam out, Eric turned to me, his tone unnervingly calm. “Today’s such a sunny day. How about we avoid the bloodshed?”

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile to my lips, though every fiber of my being screamed in protest. “Sure.”

Eric noticed the whiskey glass on the counter. He took my hand gently in his, pulling me into his embrace. “Have you been drinking during the day now?”

He noticed. I never drank during the day. Unless something upset me.

But I couldn’t afford of his suspicion of any kind now. So, I pasted on a smile and lied through my teeth. “Just feeling a headache. Thought a bit of whiskey can make me better.”