CHAPTER FIVE

|| Sebastian ||

I couldn't stop smiling as I watched her run out of my house like the devil himself was chasing her.

My fucking mate. 

It had been hell staying away from her these past six weeks. Absolute torture watching from a distance while she fell apart in that hotel suite, crying herself to sleep every night, walking around like a ghost trying to figure out who she was without that bastard husband defining her.

I'd wanted to go to her. Comfort her. Tell her everything would be okay because I would make it okay. But she wasn't ready. Not then. She was too broken, too devastated, too raw from Marcus's betrayal.

So I'd waited. Watched. Made sure she was safe while taking the necessary steps to ensure we ended up exactly where we needed to be.

Close, and together.

The moment I'd discovered Marcus was giving her this property as part of the divorce settlement, I'd acted. Purchased the neighboring mansion within twenty-four hours, paid triple the asking price to expedite the sale, and moved in a month ago to prepare.

During my research on the property, I'd dug deeper into Marcus Hart. Found every dirty secret, every shady business deal, every mistress he'd paid off, every illegal shortcut he'd taken building his mediocre empire.

I could destroy him. Easily. One phone call to the right people and Marcus Hart would lose everything—his business, his reputation, his freedom.

But I wouldn't.

Because that privilege belonged to Evelyn. When she was ready, when she was strong enough, she would be the one to end him. And I would give her every tool she needed to do it thoroughly.

Now she was here. Next door. Mine.

The thought made my wolf surge forward, possessive and desperate to go after her right now, to hold her, to make sure she was okay after running away like that.

But I forced myself to stay still. To give her space to process.

I would take this slowly. Win her over properly. Make her fall for me the way I'd already fallen for her ten years ago when I'd pulled her from that burning car and felt something shift in my chest that I wouldn't understand until years later.

She was mine. 

And there was no way in hell I was letting her go.

"Mr. Creed?" Mrs. Chen's voice pulled me from my thoughts. She stood in the doorway, wringing her hands. "Dinner is ready. Should I set one place or two?"

"Just one. Evelyn won't be joining us tonight."

"That poor girl." Mrs. Chen shook her head. "She looked terrified when she ran out of here."

I made my way to the dining room and sat down. Mrs. Chen served the food—perfectly cooked steak, roasted vegetables, some kind of potato dish that smelled amazing—but I could feel her staring at me.

"What?" I asked without looking up.

"You know I care about you." Her voice was gentle but firm. "You're like a son to me, Sebastian. Which is why I'm going to say this even though it's not my place."

I set down my fork and met her eyes. "Go ahead."

"That girl—Evelyn—she's in pain. Real pain. I could see it in her eyes." She moved closer, her expression serious. "I don't know what you're planning, but I can guess. And I'm asking you—begging you—to be careful. Don't overwhelm her. Don't push too hard. Don't make things worse for her when she's already struggling."

"I would never hurt her."

"I know you wouldn't mean to." She reached out and patted my hand. "But sometimes we hurt people even when we're trying to help them. Just… be patient. Be gentle. Don't do anything that jeopardizes everything you've built. Including whatever this is between you two."

Something in my chest tightened. Mrs. Chen had been with me for five years, ever since I'd hired her as my housekeeper and she'd somehow become the closest thing I had to family. She'd never steered me wrong.

"I'll be careful," I said quietly. "I promise."

She smiled and squeezed my hand before returning to the kitchen.

I was halfway through my meal when my phone rang. Damien's name flashed on the screen.

"What is it?"

"Got good news. That investor you've been chasing for two years—Harrison Whitmore? He wants to talk. His assistant just called. He's on the line now if you're available."

My eyebrows rose. Harrison Whitmore was one of the biggest venture capitalists in the country. Old money, influential connections, and notoriously selective about his investments. I'd been trying to get a meeting with him for two years with no success.

"Put him through."

There was a click, then a cultured voice came on the line. "Mr. Creed. Harrison Whitmore. I apologize for the late call."

"Not at all, Mr. Whitmore. I'm honored you're reaching out."

"I've been reviewing your proposal for the Obsidian Tower project. Impressive work. The projections are solid, the location is perfect, and your track record speaks for itself." He paused. "However, I have some concerns."

"What kind of concerns?"

"I come from a family with very specific values, Mr. Creed. One of our core principles is the importance of family—building it, protecting it, nurturing it. When I invest in someone, I'm not just investing in their business. I'm investing in them. In who they are as a person."

I stayed quiet, letting him continue.

"My research indicates you're unmarried. No children. No serious relationships that I can find. You've built an empire, but you've done it alone." His tone wasn't judgmental, just stating facts. "That makes me hesitate. I need to know that the people I partner with share my values. That they understand what's truly important in life."

My jaw clenched. This was the game—the politics of business where perception mattered as much as performance.

I took a deep breath and spoke up without even thinking, "Actually, Mr. Whitmore, I do have someone. A fiancée." The word felt right even though it wasn't technically true yet. "We've been keeping things private, away from social media and the press. She's… incredible. The kind of woman who makes you want to be better."

"Is that so?" He sounded pleased. "What's her name?"

"Evelyn. Evelyn Song." I used her maiden name deliberately. "We're planning to make things official soon."

"Well, that changes things considerably. I'd love to meet her. Why don't you both join my wife and me for dinner? This Friday, perhaps? My home in Bel Air."

My mind raced. "That sounds perfect. We'll be there."

"Excellent. I'll have my assistant send over the details. I look forward to meeting you both." He paused. "And Mr. Creed? Congratulations on finding someone worth building a life with. That's rarer than you might think."

The call ended.

I sat there for a long moment, staring at my phone, processing what I'd just done.

I'd just told one of the most powerful investors in the country that Evelyn was my fiancée. That we were engaged. That we were building a life together.

Which meant I had four days to convince my traumatized, absolutely terrified mate to pretend to be madly in love with me in front of people who could make or break my biggest deal.

Yes, I’m so cooked.