4 Just an Ugly Girl

These dishes didn’t look like Liam’s cooking.

Nicholas glanced up. “You made these?”

Evelyn nodded. “Mm.”

She crouched down and ladled a bowl of soup, carefully handing it to him. “I figured you’d be drinking at your gathering tonight, so I made something light.”

She was standing in the warm pool of lamplight.

From Nicholas’s angle, when he looked down, he could see her face illuminated softly, her eyes bright with sincerity. On that pale, delicate face, her gaze seemed especially pure, genuine, and clear.

Of course, he had already looked into her background.

Orphaned young, raised by her uncle’s family.

The Sullivans were considered a wealthy New York household, yet she’d lived in hardship. The report even mentioned signs of abuse.

That weakness was exactly why he had chosen her.

Easy to control.

Nicholas took the bowl and drank a sip. “Too bland.”

“I’ll add more seasoning next time.”

“Were you this obedient at the Sullivan house too?” He set the bowl down, studying her.

Evelyn opened her mouth as if to say something, but hesitated.

Her eyes flickered up and down a few times before she finally asked softly, “Did I do something wrong? You can tell me—I’ll fix it.”

Nicholas stared at her.

She reminded him of a soft sponge cake—pretty, fragile, something anyone could poke and squeeze.

Made to be bullied.

That was how he saw her, and that was how he treated her.

He reached out and pinched her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm under his fingers. It felt nice, so he did it again, and again, murmuring as he did, “Your eyes, nose, and mouth are all squished together. Ugly little thing.”

Evelyn fell silent.

Nicholas let go, stood up from the sofa, and started toward the bedroom.

“Leave the tray on the table. The maids will clean it up in the morning. Grab a blanket and sleep on the couch. And keep it quiet—I don’t like noise when I sleep.”

He walked away.

Behind him came a small, obedient “Okay.”

She really was as docile as a little lamb.

Later that night, Nicholas checked the messages popping up in his group chat.

Everyone was talking about his sudden marriage, asking what the new bride looked like.

He typed a single line: “Ugly girl.”

Morning light filtered through the window, the reflection off the snow too bright to ignore. Evelyn stirred and opened her eyes.

She got up from the couch, folded the blanket neatly, and put it back in the closet.

She had to admit, the sofa—worth tens of thousands—was incredibly soft, a far cry from the hard wooden cot she’d slept on in the Sullivan attic.

When she went downstairs to the dining room, Nicholas was already having breakfast.

She quietly pulled out a chair and sat across from him.

Some people carried an air of dominance even in silence. Nicholas was one of them—he didn’t have to speak to make people uneasy.

Liam came over with a tray of steaming pancakes, setting them down in front of Evelyn before handing her a glass of milk. She took it with both hands. “Thank you, Liam.”

She picked up her spoon and took a sip of the soup. It was rich and savory.

Across from her, Nicholas spoke without looking up. “I’m flying to Beijing this afternoon. If Carmen calls, tell her I’m at the office. Make it sound convincing.”

Evelyn nodded.

Her obedient response made him oddly satisfied.

He put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a warm towel, and said, “After breakfast, Liam will take you to the mall to buy wedding rings. Choose whatever you like. Get mine too.”

“Okay.”

“Buy yourself a few outfits while you’re at it. Expensive ones.”

Evelyn glanced down at her clothes.

Back at the Sullivan house, she’d always worn Aurora’s hand-me-downs. She’d never cared much about material things, so she hadn’t really paid attention before.

Before she could respond, there was a light smack on the table.

A bank card slid across to her.

“My secondary card,” Nicholas said flatly. “No limit. Use it however you want.”

Evelyn hesitated for a moment before picking up the thin, cool card.

When she looked up again, he was already walking away.

She didn’t need to see his expression to guess what he was thinking.

Something along the lines of:

“As long as she behaves and plays her part for my parents, I can keep her around.”

“She won’t last long anyway.”

Which was true enough.

Compared to other women, Evelyn’s biggest advantage was simple: she was sickly—and she would die soon.

By afternoon, the snow had thickened, blanketing the stone path in the courtyard in a thin white layer.

Evelyn sat on the living room sofa arranging flowers.

Liam came in carrying a few fresh cherry blossom stems, their buds just about to bloom.

He placed them beside her, then handed her a delicate box. “Madam, this just arrived. Mrs. Drake sent it as a gift for you.”

Just then, Evelyn’s phone chimed.

A new email.

Liam glanced over instinctively. The sender ID was familiar—Carmen. The message read: “Evelyn, shall we have a little chat?”

Evelyn didn’t reply. She looked up instead. “Liam, is he back in New York?”

“Yes, he arrived around noon.”

“Alright. I’ll go to his office.” She stood, handing him her phone. “I’m not good at talking with elders. Could you reply for me?”

“If Mrs. Drake calls again, just tell her I went to see Nick. When he’s back, we’ll call her together.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Liam watched as she left, standing by the door until her car disappeared down the tree-lined drive.

He couldn’t help sighing.

The young madam was frail, but she had a good heart—and treated the master with genuine care.

Just timid.

After meeting Carmen and the old master last night, she must have been truly shaken. She didn’t even dare answer their calls anymore.

The driver took Evelyn to the Drake Group headquarters.

But Nicholas wasn’t in his office—apparently, he’d gone to the private club next door.

To save time, Evelyn suggested a shortcut.

Unfortunately, the snow had slowed traffic to a crawl on the overpass, forcing them to pull over at the side of the road. She took an umbrella and decided to walk the rest of the way.

The driver watched her frail figure disappear into the swirling snow, his head buzzing with disbelief.

Couldn’t she have just called the master instead of going in person?

He dared not say it aloud.

Evelyn walked for more than twenty minutes through the biting wind before finally reaching the club.

She folded up her umbrella, told the doorman Nicholas’s name, and was led to one of the private rooms.

Knock, knock.

The waiter opened the door, and Evelyn stepped inside.

The rich scent of alcohol and the low murmur of male voices filled the air.

She hadn’t taken more than a few steps before several pairs of eyes turned toward her, all at once.