Chapter 9

Adrian’s POV

Two days. That was all it took for the world to start whispering her name again. Evelyn Hart. The woman I left behind. The woman who was supposed to disappear quietly.

Instead, her face had returned to the news, not with shame, not with her prison record as it should have been, but clinging to Damian Blackwood’s arm like she belonged there. My Evelyn. Carrying my child.

I slammed my fist onto the mahogany desk, the sound cracking through the silence of my office. The screen in front of me replayed the footage for the hundredth time — Damian pulling her close, shielding her like she was worth something. My chest burned at the sight. She was supposed to be broken. Ruined. Forgotten.

“Adrian…” Eloise’s voice cut in, soft, trembling with a sweetness that grated on my nerves. She stood in the doorway, her silk robe clinging to her frame, hair tumbling perfectly over her shoulder. “You’ve been staring at that screen for hours. Why can’t you just let her go?”

“Because she was mine,” I snapped, spinning toward her. “Everything she has, everything she is, it all belonged to me first.”

Her lips parted, the faintest flicker of hurt crossing her perfect features. She took a few steps closer, her bare feet whispering against the rug. “I thought you wanted me,” she whispered. Her voice trembled, but beneath it, I caught the edge of accusation.

I studied her. My fiancée. My shield against scandal. Beautiful, yes. Perfect on paper, yes. But not Evelyn. Never Evelyn.

“I do want you,” I lied smoothly, because that’s what Eloise needed to hear. But in my chest, in the place that burned every time Evelyn’s name lit up another headline, I knew the truth. I wanted Evelyn. I needed Evelyn.

Eloise perched delicately on the edge of the desk, her hand sliding over mine, her nails grazing my skin. “Then why does it feel like you’re chasing a ghost?”

Her perfume filled the air, cloying, suffocating. I pulled my hand away, jaw tightening. “Because ghosts don’t get to rise from the grave and parade around as if they’re untouchable.” My voice sharpened, venom dripping with every word. “She should have stayed buried. But now…” I leaned forward, my reflection catching in the dark screen. My eyes were fever-bright, consumed. “Now, I’ll make sure she regrets ever stepping into the light.”

Eloise’s eyes gleamed, that flash of cunning I knew too well. “Then ruin her. Expose her for what she really is. A convict. A liar. A pathetic single mother carrying a bastard child.”

The words sliced through me, but I let them stay, because they were true in everyone’s eyes but mine. “That child isn’t a bastard,” I hissed. “It’s mine.”

Her lips parted in shock, and for once, she looked afraid of me. “Adrian…”

I turned from her, already pulling up the files I had ordered days ago. My contacts had dug deep, and the first results were coming in. Her mugshot glared back at me from the screen, those wide eyes haunted and defiant. Rage and desire tangled inside me, choking me.

“Tomorrow, the world will see this,” I said, my voice low, feverish. “And they’ll know she doesn’t deserve to stand next to Blackwood. He can have his empire. But Evelyn… she will always be mine.”

Eloise lingered in silence behind me, then finally whispered, “And what about me?”

I didn’t answer.

Because in truth, I didn’t care.

***

Eloise’s POV

The sunlight felt harsh that morning. I had woken up to the sound of my phone buzzing relentlessly. Dozens of notifications. Messages from numbers I didn’t even recognize. My stomach knotted as I unlocked the screen.

And then I saw it.

My face.

Not the Evelyn who smiled faintly at Damian’s side. Not the Evelyn who dared to hope for a sliver of peace. No — it was the mugshot. The cold, washed-out picture taken the day I was arrested. My hair matted. My eyes hollow. My entire body language screaming that I had been broken.

The headline screamed louder:

“DAMIAN BLACKWOOD’S NEW FIANCÉE — EX-CONVICT AND SINGLE MOTHER?”

I couldn’t breathe. My knees buckled, and I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, clutching my phone as if smashing it would erase the image.

The door opened, and Damian walked in, tie half-knotted, his phone in his hand. His jaw was set, sharp as a blade. He didn’t need to say a word; I knew he had seen it too.

“They won’t stop,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “They’ll never let me live in peace.”

Damian crossed the room in two long strides. He didn’t comfort me with words — he never did. Instead, he reached down, cupping my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. They weren’t gentle. They were fire.

“Then we won’t give them peace either.”

Before I could respond, he pulled me to my feet. Within hours, I found myself dressed in a gown I hadn’t chosen, walking into a glittering gala hall at his side. Cameras flashed like lightning, voices shouted, and I froze — but Damian’s arm anchored me. His hand rested firmly at the small of my back, and every flash captured the same image: Damian Blackwood standing proudly with Evelyn Hart, his fiancée.

The reporters screamed questions. “Damian, is it true? Did you know she was an ex-convict?”

He smirked, as if the chaos amused him. Then he leaned closer to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Smile. Let them choke on it.”

And I did. I smiled, though my chest ached, though my hands shook. Because in that moment, Damian made me feel untouchable.

Hours later, after the show was over and the lights died down, I returned to my room, exhausted. I slipped out of the dress, rubbed at the ache in my feet, and thought maybe—just maybe—I had survived another storm.

Then I saw it.

A plain envelope, tucked under my door. No name. No return address.

My fingers trembled as I tore it open.

Inside was a single photograph.

My ultrasound. The one I thought only I and the doctor had seen.

A chill ran through me, every nerve screaming danger. My throat went dry as I stared at the shadowy outline of the tiny life growing inside me.

Someone knew.

And they wanted me to know they knew.

The photo slipped from my hands as a single thought echoed in my head — if they knew this, then what else did they know?