2 Three Rules

Night fell.

At the Sullivan estate, Evelyn changed into house slippers in the entryway and took off her coat. Without the heavy winter layers, her body looked even frailer, as if a gust of wind from outside could easily knock her down.

She walked forward.

Even from a distance, she could hear the laughter coming from the living room.

When she reached the doorway, the two people inside caught sight of her. Their smiles instantly vanished. Meeting the woman’s disdainful gaze, Evelyn merely offered a soft, polite greeting, as she always did.

Courtney ignored her.

Aurora, sitting beside her with a face mask on and a manicurist working on her nails, glanced lazily toward the doorway. “Is your internship really that busy? Coming home past nine?”

She turned to tug on Courtney’s sleeve, her tone sharp and mocking. “Some people might just be using their internship as an excuse to flirt with coworkers. Mom, she stole my boyfriend before—shows you what kind of person she is. You should keep her under control before she embarrasses the Sullivan family again.”

Courtney’s eyes flicked toward the slim figure in the doorway.

A sickly little thing. Barely alive. And she dared to compete with her golden, precious daughter?

Courtney caressed Aurora’s face and comforted her gently. “In a few months she’ll graduate, and your father and I have already decided to marry her off. Then she won’t bother you anymore.”

Aurora relaxed at that.

She’d heard from Thomas that the man Evelyn was betrothed to was disabled, rumored to have violent tendencies. That frail little thing wouldn’t survive a month in that household.

Aurora arched her brow and sneered, “Go to your room. Just looking at you makes me sick.”

Evelyn said nothing and turned to leave.

Her steps were slow and heavy, her body so weak that even her back looked fragile.

To others, she seemed like the kind of person who silently endured everything, incapable of fighting back.

Compared to the luxurious main house, Evelyn’s living space was shabby—a tiny attic room once used for storage, later cleaned up just enough for her to live in.

The housekeeper, Gloria, opened the door and helped her sit down on the bed before taking out a bottle of pills from the drawer. Evelyn tilted her head back, swallowed the medicine with a sip of water, her pale face half-hidden in the dim light, fragile to the point of heartbreak.

This estate had originally belonged to her mother, inherited from her grandfather.

Now, she could only live in the attic like a guest.

Setting the glass back on the nightstand, Evelyn smiled softly. “It’s getting late. You should rest early.”

“You too, Miss Evelyn.”

Gloria closed the door behind her.

Silence settled over the attic.

Evelyn stood by the window, watching snow fall outside. After a long while, her phone chimed with a notification.

The screen lit up—an unfamiliar number.

As expected, it was a message from Nicholas’s assistant: “Miss Hart, please bring your identification tomorrow morning at ten for the marriage registration.”

The glow of the screen reflected against her pale face. Evelyn stared at the words for a long time, her clear eyes slowly darkening with a cold resolve.

When she was ten, Hart Innovation Group—the company her parents had built in London—went bankrupt overnight. Soon after, her parents died in a car crash. Thomas, who had been starting his business in London at the time, quickly joined forces with the Jordan, Brooks, and Craig families in New York to divide up her parents’ fortune.

Her life had an expiration date.

But before reaching it, she would drag every single one of them into hell with her.

The next morning, snow was falling again, sharp and cold against the wind.

After leaving the registry office, Evelyn slipped the freshly issued marriage certificate into her bag.

On the sidewalk, Nicholas stopped walking and glanced at her. “I have plans with some friends this afternoon. I’ll drop you off at the Drake residence first.”

He was much taller than her. His voice lingered above her head, low and deep.

Evelyn looked up at him through the cold air and nodded obediently. “Okay.”

Her meekness pleased him.

During the drive, she sat quietly in the passenger seat, her hands folded neatly on her knees. Her face carried that delicate, drowsy look of someone not quite healthy—soft and unassuming.

Nicholas was on the phone with a friend, his voice loud at first. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her sitting there, weak and quiet, and for some reason, he lowered his tone, ended the call after a few short sentences.

When he saw her eyelids start to droop, he reached over and nudged her. “You look half-dead already.”

Evelyn straightened up and turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry, Mr. Drake. I took my medication before leaving the house. It must be kicking in. I feel a little sleepy.”

Nicholas gave her a sideways look, full of silent disdain.

But the next second, he reached for the controls and turned up the car’s heater.

His eyes stayed on the road as he said flatly, “You said you’d live until twenty-nine. Don’t die in my villa before then.”

That would be bad luck.

And a hassle—he’d have to find someone else to pretend for his parents’ sake.

Evelyn nodded softly. “I’ll take my medicine on time and take care of myself. I’ll make it to twenty-nine. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Drake.”

Nicholas turned his head slightly, his gaze brushing across her face.

Her eyes were clear and calm, guileless, almost simple-minded.

Half an hour later, the car pulled into the tree-lined drive of the Drake residence. The butler, Liam, came out with an umbrella and helped Evelyn out of the car. Standing under the umbrella, she looked through the window and waved at Nicholas.

He drove off.

In the rearview mirror, he could still see her standing there, small and fragile. She raised her hand again, waving at him even after the car had gone several yards down the road.

Nicholas found himself glancing back twice.

There was a kind of innocent foolishness in her—simple, harmless, easy to control.

Once the car disappeared from sight, Evelyn finally lowered her hand. Liam held the umbrella over her and led her inside.

The villa was new, recently purchased.

At the entryway, she changed into indoor slippers and followed the butler into the living room. He poured her a cup of tea and handed over a folder. “Madam, this is from the young master.”

“Thank you.”

Evelyn accepted it with both hands.

It was a marriage agreement.

There wasn’t much written, but after reading through the key points, she understood what it meant—she was to cooperate with him in front of his family.

He had also set three rules:

She must not die too soon.

She must not reveal their marriage to anyone.

She must not interfere in his personal affairs.