"Elliot, are you seriously going to say yes to Eva Sullivan?"
In the dimly lit, smoke-filled private room, a man stood up, poured a glass of liquor for the man beside him, and tossed out the question with a gossip-hungry grin.
Elliot Henson took the cigarette case offered to him, caught a cigarette between his lips, and lit it. The flame illuminated his nonchalant, mocking smile. "Would you date a soulless lapdog? Where's the fun in that? I'm just playing around to kill time. That's all she is."
The comment triggered an eruption of laughter. The man who'd asked gave Elliot a thumbs-up. "Classic Elliot. That idiot Eva is probably still sprinting through the rain like a fool just to deliver your medicine!"
Standing just outside the door, the "idiot" they were mocking heard every word.
Eva Sullivan froze, her hand gripping the glass medicine bottle so hard her knuckles turned white.
Crack.
The glass shattered in her palm. Medicine and bright red blood dripped from her fingertips, splashing onto the floor.
The pain was sharp and immediate, but it paled next to the ache in her chest.
Eva had loved Elliot for eight years. For nearly a decade, she had poured her heart into him, sacrificing her dignity to be the perfect companion.
When he traveled for business, she booked his flights and packed his luggage. When his stomach acted up, she—a girl who'd never touched a kitchen knife—learned to cook and simmer soups just to soothe his discomfort. When he entertained clients, a single phone call brought her running. She drank for him, glass after glass, until she was vomiting in the bathroom, just to save him the trouble.
Tonight, a storm was raging over Seaview City. Elliot had called, claiming his stomach pain had flared up, demanding she deliver his medicine within ten minutes. He'd even dangled a promise: if she made it in time, he would finally agree to be with her.
She had thought she'd finally glimpsed daylight at the end of a long, dark tunnel. She hadn't realized it was just another one of Elliot's tricks—a game to train his obedient dog.
Her fingers slowly uncurled. The shards of glass and blood-streaked medicine fell to the carpet with a dull thud. Eva's eyes burned, rims turning red.
She tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear. Her reflection in the hallway mirror showed a woman soaked to the bone, looking pathetic. Passersby cast strange looks her way, whispering as they hurried past, treating her like a spectacle.
The phone in her bag buzzed against her hip.
Eva numbly retrieved it. The screen flashed with her uncle's name.
"Eva, it's late. Why aren't you home yet?"
Before she could force a word past the lump in her throat, her aunt's sharp voice cut through from the background.
"If she doesn't want to come back, let her stay out! The girl is an adult—you can't tie her to your side forever. Right now, her entire world revolves around that Elliot Henson. Do you think she has any room in her eyes for her uncle? I'm telling you, stop meddling before you become a nuisance to her."
"Amelia, what nonsense are you spouting?" her uncle snapped.
"Nonsense? You think I'm talking nonsense, Landon? In this family, my opinion means nothing, is that it?"
Listening to the argument escalating on the other end, Eva's hand trembled.
Ever since Mason Group's funding chain broke, the arguments between her uncle and aunt had become a daily ritual. And she knew, deep down, that she was the crux of the problem. If she weren't so focused on Elliot, if she were more useful...
Guilt washed over her, colder than the rain outside. Eva took a deep breath, steadying her voice.
"Uncle, Aunt... stop fighting. I'm willing to accept the marriage alliance. I'll marry into the Farley family."
The line went dead silent.
A moment later, Amelia spoke up, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Eva... what did you just say?"
In the upper-class circles of Seaview City, everyone knew Eva Sullivan had chased Elliot Henson for eight years. She'd made it clear she would marry no one but him. Because of this, Amelia had endured endless mockery from other wealthy wives, who laughed at her niece for being a delusional girl trying to punch above her weight.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Amelia. I'm sorry for making you worry all this time," Eva said softly. "Don't worry. I won't be willful anymore."
"Eva, are you okay? Where are you? Let your uncle come pick you up."
Despite Amelia's sharp tongue and her desperate hope for the Farley alliance to save the company, the hollowness in Eva's voice triggered her maternal instincts. Genuine worry rose in her chest.
Eva had claimed she was giving up on Elliot before, only to go running back to him after a few days of depression. She was usually stubborn, deaf to persuasion. But this time... this time sounded different. It sounded final.
"I'm fine," Eva lied. "I'm staying at a friend's place tonight, so I won't be coming home."
She forced a smile onto her face, though no one could see it. A brittle, fractured expression, more painful to look at than tears.
After hanging up, Eva looked back at the closed door of the private room one last time.
She was done. She would never love Elliot Henson again.
This time, it was a clean break.
