CHAPTER 3

The sharp, ringing pain in Evelyn’s cheek was blinding, echoing the thunderous shock in her mind.

He had hit her.

Julian, the man who had promised to cherish her, had struck her across the face. She swayed, her hand flying instinctively to her burning skin. 

Her eyes remained fixed on Julian’s chest; she couldn’t bear to look any higher and see the monster behind the mask.

The pregnant woman, jolted by the sudden violence, finally found her voice.

“Julian! What was that? Who is this woman?” She hurried to his side, her large belly brushing his arm. “Is she the maid? Why is she still here? Tell her to get up! I’m starving, Jules. I want her to cook breakfast now.”

Julian didn’t even look at the woman. His fury remained locked on Evelyn.

“No. She’s not a maid. And she’s not staying in this house,” he snapped. He turned a threatening glare back to Evelyn. “I’ll deal with you later. Right now, I have more important things to attend to.”

He turned, his demeanor shifting instantly as he guided the woman toward the stairs.

“Come on, darling. Let’s get you upstairs. You need to rest. I’ll order room service.”

Evelyn stood motionless. She watched him lead the woman up the grand staircase. 

The woman leaned into him, chatting softly, while Julian’s every touch was careful and tender, an intimacy Evelyn hadn’t seen since their honeymoon.

As they disappeared onto the landing, Evelyn’s world collapsed from rage into a hollow, freezing despair.

He loves her.

And then the final realization struck, sharp and merciless: ‘He never loved me.’ She had been a placeholder, a convenient wife until the "necessity" arrived. 

A burning resolve ignited beneath the crushing pain. She straightened her spine and took a step toward the stairs. She had barely made it a few paces when Julian reappeared at the top of the landing.

“Evelyn!” he roared, descending the steps with impatience rolling off him in waves. “You’re still here? Did you sign the documents? Didn’t my mother call to tell you to stop wasting my time?”

Evelyn stopped at the foot of the stairs. Her back was straight despite the throbbing in her jaw. 

She met his eyes, her voice calm and razor-sharp.

“Is that why, Julian? Is it because of her? After five years of marriage, you bring her into our home and slap your wife because she got pregnant before I could?”

Julian stopped halfway down the steps, his mouth twisting into a sneer. 

“Yes,” he said flatly. “That’s exactly why.”

There was no remorse in his voice. None.

“I needed an heir. I need a family. You wasted five years of my life with your incompetence. Claire is giving me a son. A son,” he emphasized coldly. “You were never more than a temporary inconvenience.”

He stepped off the last stair and loomed over her. 

“The papers,” he demanded. “Where are they?”

Evelyn lifted her chin, her eyes shining but dry. 

“I tore them,” she said simply. “Every single page.”

Julian’s face went pale, then darkened with a feral rage. “You what?” He stepped forward, his hand twitching. “You insolent, spoiled child. Do you think that stops anything?”

He strode to a corner of the room, yanked open a spare briefcase hidden behind a decorative screen, and pulled out a fresh stack of documents. He stormed back and slammed the thick envelope into her chest.

“There. Sign it. And don't play games this time.”

Evelyn wanted to scream that his perfect life was built on lies. 

She wanted to tell him he was beneath contempt. But before she could speak, a distant, plaintive voice floated down from upstairs.

“Jules! Honey, where are you? The baby is kicking!”

Julian’s fury vanished. His eyes lit up, and his mouth curved into a radiant, boyish smile, the same smile he had once used to win her heart.

“Coming, darling!” he called eagerly.

He looked back at Evelyn, his face hardening once more into icy indifference. “Read it. Sign it. And be out of this house before I come back down,” he warned. “Or you’ll regret it for the rest of your pathetic life.”

He turned and practically sprinted upstairs.

Evelyn stood alone, the papers pressed to her chest. She knew he meant it.

This was his house. His power. His territory. 

Still, one final, broken question escaped her, flung toward the empty stairwell.

“Julian,” she cried, her voice cracking. “Did you ever love me? Even for a minute?”

He paused on the landing. He didn’t turn around.

“No,” he said flatly. “Never.”

That was the final nail. Her heart didn’t shatter; it went numb. 

Tears slid silently down her face, soaking into the legal papers. 

With shaking hands, she opened the documents.

Non-disclosure clauses. Asset divisions. Punitive conditions. She flipped to the settlement page. It was laughable. No property. No alimony.

Only a single lump sum: Five million dollars.

A prepaid debit card was clipped to the final page. Hush money. Payment for five years of her life.

She let out a hollow, jagged laugh and tossed the card across the floor. She wouldn’t take his blood money. 

Wiping her eyes, she clutched the documents, the only proof she had of his cruelty.

She turned her back on the opulent living room and walked toward the stairs. She wasn't going to beg anymore. She was going to pack her things and disappear.