CHAPTER TWO: THE PRICE OF DESPERATION

“Evelyn, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Andrain’s question stopped me as I reached for my handbag.

“I’m trying to save my son.”

“And what happens when Damian Kingston discovers everything you’ve been hiding?”

I looked at him. “Then I’ll deal with it.”

“That’s not a plan, Evelyn. That’s desperation.”

He wasn’t wrong.

But what was I supposed to do? Sit quietly and watch Sebastian die because the people with money and influence had decided his life wasn’t worth saving?

I couldn’t.

Not when my little boy was still fighting.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you yesterday,” Andrain said, his voice softer. “I was scared of losing my job.”

“I understand.”

“I just don’t want you getting yourself into something you can’t escape.”

I forced a smile. “Neither do I.”

My eyes drifted towards the old Superwoman costume hanging behind the door. Sab had worn it during his last costume day at school. He had been so excited, running around the house with his little chest pushed out.

I’m going to save everybody, Mummy!

The memory tightened my throat.

Perhaps I couldn’t save everybody. But I had to save him.

I picked up the costume and folded it into my bag.

Andrain watched me suspiciously. “What’s that for?”

“Something that might make my son smile.”

“Evelyn, please. Be careful with Damian Kingston. That man has enemies. Powerful ones.”

I stopped at the door.

“Then I hope they all know how to fight. Because I’m not giving up.”

The following morning, the entire city was talking about Damian Kingston.

A newspaper headline dominated the front pages:

DAMIAN KINGSTON PLEDGES $250 MILLION TOWARDS BUBONIC DISEASE RESEARCH.

I stared at the headline in disbelief.

Two hundred and fifty million dollars?

Had Damian actually listened to me?

For the first time in days, I felt a little hope.

Perhaps I had judged him too quickly. Perhaps beneath that cold expression was a man who understood what it meant to lose someone.

I couldn’t help wondering if he had remembered my little boy.

My phone rang.

An unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Be at the orphanage in thirty minutes.”

I frowned. “Who is this?”

“Someone who can help you get what you want.”

“Which orphanage?”

The caller ended the conversation.

I stared at my phone.

An orphanage?

I hadn’t arranged anything with an orphanage.

But something told me this call was connected to the newspaper announcement.

I turned to Andrain.

“I need you to watch Sab for me.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Evelyn—”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

I kissed Sab’s forehead before leaving.

He was asleep, his little body looking painfully fragile beneath the blanket.

“Hold on for me, sweetheart,” I whispered.

Then I walked out.

The orphanage stood opposite one of Kingston’s business properties.

I had barely stepped through the entrance when I saw Antonio Devereux.

He was leaning against a desk, his eye patch making his already intimidating appearance even more unsettling.

“Welcome, Evelyn.”

I stopped. “What is this place?”

He smiled.

“Your opportunity.”

“My opportunity?”

“Don’t look so confused. You wanted Damian Kingston’s attention. Now the entire city believes he’s investing $250 million in Bubonic disease research. You wanted an orphanage. Here it is.”

I stared at him.

“You arranged all this?”

“Of course.”

“But why?”

“Because I know how to get things done. Unlike you, I don’t waste time begging billionaires.”

I stepped closer. “What exactly do you expect me to do?”

“Play your part. When the press asks questions, you support the announcement. You present yourself as someone passionate about helping vulnerable children. And when Damian comes looking for answers, you give him the answers he wants to hear.”

I shook my head.

“You’re asking me to lie.”

Antonio chuckled. “My dear, you came to a billionaire’s office pretending to be someone you weren’t. Don’t suddenly develop a conscience.”

His words stung because they were true.

“I did this for my son.”

“And I’m helping you save him.”

He moved closer.

“Everything I’ve done is for you, Evelyn. I hope you understand that.”

I stepped backwards.

“Thank you for helping me, Antonio. But I should leave.”

His expression changed.

“Leave?”

“Yes.”

“After everything I’ve done?”

“I didn’t ask you to do all this.”

He grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t be ungrateful.”

“Let go of me.”

Instead, he pulled me towards a private room.

I resisted, but his grip tightened.

“Antonio, stop!”

He ignored me.

What happened behind that locked door was something I would never forget.

I fought him. I begged him to stop. I told him I didn’t want him touching me.

He didn’t listen.

When he finally released me, I sat frozen, unable to process what had happened.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to disappear.

Most of all, I wanted to go home and hold my son.

Antonio adjusted his clothes as though nothing had happened.

“Clean yourself up,” he said coldly. “We have work to do.”

I couldn’t look at him.

“Remember why you’re here, Evelyn. Your son.”

Those words broke something inside me.

He knew exactly where to hurt me.

I wiped my face, straightened my clothes, and walked out without saying another word.

By the time I returned to my nail studio, it was already late.

I was exhausted. My body hurt, but the pain inside me was worse.

I wanted to forget the orphanage. I wanted to forget Antonio. I wanted to pretend the day had never happened.

But I couldn’t.

The moment I opened the door, I froze.

Damian Kingston was sitting inside my studio.

His expression was unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He slowly stood.

“That’s an interesting question, Evelyn Pierce.”

My stomach tightened.

He knew my name.

Not the name I had used at Clientele Eatery. My real name.

“How did you—”

“Your father lives in the suburbs. Your mother was shot during a protest. You married a man named Pierce, who was arrested after being accused of rape and later shot while attempting to escape custody.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

He continued.

“You have a seven-year-old son named Sebastian. He’s suffering from Bubonic disease, and you’ve been desperately looking for someone wealthy enough to finance his treatment.”

I couldn’t speak.

“How much more do you want me to know?” he asked.

“Why are you investigating me?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

I swallowed.

He picked up a newspaper lying on my desk and threw it towards me.

The headline about his supposed $250 million pledge stared back at me.

“Did you arrange this?”

“No.”

“Did you establish that orphanage opposite my business?”

I hesitated.

“Answer me!”

“I didn’t establish it!”

“But you knew about it.”

“I only found out today.”

He laughed bitterly.

“Convenient.”

“Mr Kingston, I swear I don’t know what’s going on. I only wanted to speak to you because my son needs help.”

“And you thought the best way to get my attention was to manufacture a public announcement using my name?”

“I didn’t do that!”

“Then explain why your name keeps appearing wherever this nonsense happens.”

I struggled to hold back my tears.

“Because somebody is using me!”

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then he stepped closer.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe. I’m telling you the truth.”

“Your little performance at my office wasn’t enough? Now you’ve decided to involve the press?”

“I never wanted any of this!”

My voice cracked.

“I wanted help for my son. That’s all. I don’t have the luxury of playing games with you, Damian. My child is dying!”

His jaw tightened.

“And you think that gives you the right to blackmail me?”

“I never blackmailed you!”

“Then stop putting my name in your schemes.”

I looked at him, fighting back tears.

“Fine. Arrest me if that’s what you want. Take me to court. But before you do, remember that the woman standing in front of you is a mother trying to save her child.”

He stared at me.

“And if you have any conscience left, ask yourself why a dying child’s mother would go this far.”

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then I noticed something.

A flash of light came from outside.

Someone had taken our photograph.

Damian turned towards the window.

His expression darkened.

“Did you arrange this too?”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand. You wanted a scandal, didn’t you?”

“No! I didn’t even know anyone was outside!”

He grabbed my wrist.

“Get your things. We’re leaving.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere we can talk without an audience.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

He didn’t release me.

And before I could protest again, he pulled me towards the door.

My phone vibrated.

I glanced down.

An unknown number.

STOP TRUSTING DAMIAN KINGSTON. HE IS NOT THE MAN YOU THINK HE IS.

My heart began to pound.

Another message arrived.

AND IF YOU WANT YOUR SON TO LIVE, MAKE SURE YOU NEVER TELL HIM WHAT HAPPENED AT THE ORPHANAGE TODAY.

I stopped walking.

My fingers trembled around the phone.

Someone knew.

Someone had watched what happened behind that locked door.

And whoever it was knew exactly how to use my son against me.

I slowly looked up at Damian.

For the first time, I wondered whether getting close to him had been the biggest mistake of my life.

Because someone was watching us. And they knew my darkest secret.