Eleanor looked at her—really looked. At the bruises beneath her eyes that no concealer could mask. At the too-calm surface of someone barely holding it together. And she realized: Evelyn wasn't defiant. She was broken and clinging to control by sheer will.
"You don't need to prove anything right now," Eleanor said gently.
"Yes, I do," Evelyn replied. "To myself."
She moved past her friend and opened the door.
The hallway air was tight, thick with noise. As soon as they stepped out of the building, flashes exploded.
"EVELYN! Over here!"
"Do you regret exposing your sister on the wedding day?"
"Did you sleep with Adrian Wolfe before the engagement ended?"
"What do you have to say about your father's statement?"
That last one hit like a gunshot.
Eleanor tried to shield her, her arm across Evelyn's back, guiding her through the chaos. But the horde surged forward. Microphones, phones, cameras—it was a war zone disguised in designer suits.
And then Evelyn saw it.
Her father.
Standing calmly at the bottom of the steps with Genevieve beside him, flanked by their legal team. Not even flinching. Not looking up at her.
A reporter turned toward them, mic poised. "Mr. Carter, can you confirm the rumors that Evelyn was emotionally unstable leading up to the wedding?"
Evelyn froze. Her pulse thundered.
Her father gave a slight nod. "Our daughter was under great emotional strain. We tried to support her as best we could. This situation is a family matter, and we are deeply saddened."
A collective murmur rose. Her mother said nothing—eyes forward, blank, composed.
And Evelyn's vision blurred with rage.
"You tried to support me?" she said aloud, the words slicing through the noise.
The crowd quieted.
Her father turned to her then, finally meeting her eyes.
"Don't do this," Eleanor whispered behind her.
But Evelyn took a step forward.
"You watched them humiliate me. You let it happen," she said, voice calm and deadly. "And now you're parading around like I'm the problem?"
The murmurs turned into a sea of cameras refocusing on her. Her father said nothing. Genevieve still didn't look at her.
"I stood by this family. Every boardroom. Every charity gala. I wore the armor you gave me and smiled through every betrayal. And this—this is what I get?"
The silence hung sharp.
She turned to the reporters. "Yes, I walked in on my sister and fiancé. Yes, I left. I walked into a life that wasn't built on lies. And no, I don't regret it."
The flashes roared again, but she didn't move. Her jaw set. Her hands didn't tremble now.
Eleanor finally stepped in, arm tight around her shoulder, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "No further questions. Miss Carter will make a statement when the time is right."
Together, they pushed through the crowd. Reporters shouted behind them, but none of it mattered now.
____
Daniel and Liliana sat in a restaurant chatting and laughing away.
Evelyn Carter walked in the restaurant like she had something to prove.
Draped in a sleek, dark emerald gown that hugged her figure and flared dramatically at the bottom, she carried herself with a grace so sharp it could cut. Her heels struck the polished marble like gunshots, each step echoing louder than the last. Conversations dipped momentarily, subtle glances cast her way. Some recognized her from the tabloids—the scandal still fresh, the betrayal still hot news. Others simply noticed the woman with fire in her eyes and a fury that made her beauty dangerous.
She spotted Daniel across the room instantly.
He sat at a private booth near the back, laughing—laughing—as if the world hadn't watched him unravel her life like it meant nothing. His arm rested lazily along the back of the seat. Beside him, Liliana toyed with her champagne flute, her red lips curled in a secretive smirk.
Evelyn's jaw clenched. Every cell in her body screamed to turn around, to avoid another spectacle. But something inside her refused to let go. She had been silenced enough.
This time, they would hear her.
Without waiting to be seated, she stormed across the restaurant floor, ignoring the murmurs trailing her like shadows. A few heads turned. One man in a dark corner paused mid-sip of his bourbon, his gaze narrowing with interest. Adrian Wolfe.
She arrived at their table like a storm rolling in from the sea.
"Hope I'm not interrupting," she said coolly, though her voice trembled ever so slightly.
Daniel looked up, his expression freezing mid-laugh. Liliana's smirk vanished.
"Evelyn," Daniel began, recovering, plastering on that polished smile that had once fooled her. "This is—"
"Unbelievable," she cut in. "Even for you."
"Why are you here?" Liliana asked sharply, though her voice didn't carry the same venom it usually did. Her tone was brittle, like she expected Evelyn to combust right in front of her.
Evelyn leaned forward, resting her hands on the edge of the table, eyes flicking between the two of them. "You couldn't wait a single day, could you? Couldn't even keep it discreet after what you did to me."
"We didn't invite you into our lives," Liliana said, crossing her arms. "You walked in blind, blind and stupid."
Evelyn's eyes glittered with fury. "You mean I walked in trusting my sister, trusting you."
Daniel stood, tone low and warning. "Let's not do this here."
She laughed, sharp and mirthless. "Oh, now you care about appearances? After everything you two did behind closed doors?"
From across the restaurant, Adrian Wolfe watched with interest. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes locked onto Evelyn like a predator observing something unexpected. He had come for a meeting. Instead, he found... her.
She was beautiful, yes—but not in the soft, practiced way so many women in this world were. There was a rawness to her. A rage barely contained beneath the surface. A woman on the brink—but still standing.
And standing alone.