Chapter 5

Evelyn's POV

In a high-end booth in Lunaris City, Marcus Reed raised his glass to me, his face flushing with the kind of apology that only comes out after a few drinks.

"Evelyn, about the lead actress... I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry."

I held my glass, my thumb tracing the condensation on the side.

"It's fine," I said. "I know it wasn't your call."

He sighed and downed his drink in one go.

"To be honest, I watched Vivienne Langford's audition tape. Her acting can't carry the character you wrote. But production sent the contract directly to her. I didn't even get a chance to object."

I set my glass down. The base hit the table with a sharp clack.

It was easy to see Marcus was genuinely sorry. He'd been in this industry for twenty years, and he was clearly embarrassed by his own powerlessness.

Besides, no director could block an investor powerful enough to force Vivienne into a lead role.

"Don't worry about the shoot itself," he said, pouring another half-glass, his voice getting louder. "I'll stake my life on the quality. It's your script; I won't let anyone ruin it."

I didn't respond. Marcus didn't get it—the part he could guarantee wasn't the part I was actually worried about.

"Who exactly recommended Vivienne?"

Marcus shook his head, his fingers tapping the table rhythmically. "The request came through a foundation under Blackwood Capital. I tried digging, but I couldn't find the source. You know how these things go..."

He trailed off and waved his hand dismissively.

I looked at him and nodded, not pushing any further.

Blackwood. That word followed me like a curse. Whenever it popped up, nothing good ever followed.

A server came in with our food, and a shadow flickered in the hallway. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a silhouette glancing into the booth before disappearing around the corner.

The server set the plates and left.

Marcus didn't notice. The alcohol was hitting him now, and he poured himself another.

He dropped the subject and relaxed, starting to complain about the industry—investors meddling, script changes, rushed schedules.

Every complaint hit one of his nerves. The alcohol made his voice louder and his gestures more dramatic. In the small booth, his drunken venting was becoming deafening.

I laid my napkin on the table, needing some air.

"I'm going to the restroom."

I stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath, letting my shoulders drop.

Then, I saw him. Adrian.

He was standing at the corner of the hallway in a navy suit, his silhouette sharp against the wall. One hand was in his pocket, the other hanging at his side, fingers slightly curled. His face was like stone, his jawline as rigid as a blade.

Inside the booth, Marcus's voice drifted out—a slurred, drunken sentence that trailed off with a messy, lingering tone.

In the quiet hallway, that voice sounded suggestively intimate.

Adrian's eyes locked onto me, his lips curling into a mocking smirk.

"I see you've found a more... practical path since leaving the Blackwoods."

His voice was low, his eyes tracking me like a predator. He radiated that suffocating Alpha energy.

"Is an older man easier to handle?"

My nails dug into my palms. Inside me, my wolf roared in fury at the blatant lack of trust from my former fated mate.

"You're delusional," I snapped, turning to walk away.

He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. His fingers clamped down so hard it hurt; I could feel the bone grinding under his palm, the pulse in my wrist hammering wildly.

He jerked me toward him. I stumbled forward, nearly crashing into his chest.

He leaned down, crowding me. His scent hit me—that faint cedarwood smell I used to know so well and now hated more than anything.

Because we were once fated mates, I could actually hear his internal wolf baring its teeth at me.

"Give me a number," he whispered, his lips practically brushing my ear. "How much are you worth these days?"

My ears rang as blood rushed to my face. A white-hot rage surged from my toes to my head, burning through every nerve, through every year of silence and submission I'd ever endured.

I didn't hesitate. I swung my hand and slapped him—hard.

The sound of the slap cracked through the empty hallway.

Adrian's head snapped to the side. A dark red mark bloomed across his cheek, spreading from his cheekbone to his ear. He looked completely stunned, like he never imagined I'd actually land the blow.

I wrenched my wrist back. My palm was stinging, and I could see the red marks from his fingers on my skin.

"Alpha Adrian."

My voice was ice-cold. "You have no right to speak to me like that."

I looked into his deep blue eyes. They were wide with shock, reflecting the warm glow of the hallway lights like stones submerged in dark water.

"You lost that right a long time ago," I added.