When Eva reached the ground floor, her phone buzzed again. Elliot Henson. The name flashed relentlessly on the screen.
She didn't hesitate. She declined the call.
A moment later, a message pinged. A single punctuation mark: ?
Eva paused, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Then she typed a lie, cool and calculated: The rain is torrential. I can't get a cab. I'm running there now. Wait for me.
She hit send. As expected, silence followed.
A bitter smile touched her lips. With a final tap, she added his number to the blacklist. Goodbye, Elliot.
Outside, the ride-hailing car she'd booked in advance was already waiting—dry and warm.
She'd ordered it ages ago, long before she left the room. Back then, she'd been terrified the storm would keep her from reaching him. She'd worried about his chronic gastritis flaring up, terrified his medicine wouldn't work, that she'd be too late to help.
Now, looking back at her frantic concern, the word doormat echoed in her mind.
Perhaps her life had been too comfortable lately, making her soft in the head. Why else would she have been so eager to invite suffering?
Her life hadn't always been easy. When she was ten, a car accident claimed her parents' lives. She was the sole survivor.
The Sullivan family cast her aside. They disliked that she was a girl and branded her a "jinx," making it clear she was unwelcome.
It was her aunt and uncle, the Masons, who took her in.
Amelia couldn't have children, so for over a decade, the couple had loved Eva as their own. They denied her nothing—except Elliot Henson.
Amelia had warned her. The Henson family is a vipers' nest. And Elliot? He doesn't look like a man who can protect you.
Eva hadn't believed it then. She'd defended him at every turn.
Now, the memory of her naivety felt like a slap to the face.
Rain blurred the city lights outside the car window, mirroring the storm settling in her chest.
After getting her injured hand bandaged at a hospital, she took a taxi to a hotel. As she pulled out her phone to pay, a news notification popped up.
#HEAD OF FARLEY GROUP RETURNS MYSTERIOUSLY TODAY#
Below the headline sat a grainy, indistinct photo.
Eva swiped it away and opened her payment app.
She knew a little about the Farley family. The young man her aunt had found—Hudson Farley—carried the prestigious surname but had no inheritance rights. Once she married him, she doubted she'd ever interact with the elusive "person in power" mentioned in the news.
The thought of the arranged marriage no longer caused a ripple of anxiety. Her uncle and aunt had given her everything; it was time she stopped being selfish.
Early the next morning, Eva returned to the Mason residence.
Amelia had already laid out a dossier on the coffee table. Photographs of Hudson Farley spread out like a fan.
He was handsome in a conventional way, radiating the high-spirited energy of a wealthy youth who'd never known hardship. Third among the Farley cousins. Rumor had it he'd just returned from studying abroad and possessed a mild temperament.
He wouldn't inherit the empire, but the Farley name alone ensured a life of luxury. Not a bad deal.
"There's a banquet tonight," Amelia said, her tone businesslike but her eyes watchful. "You'll come with me. It's the perfect opportunity for you two to meet."
She paused, smoothing the hem of her skirt. Then she sighed and dropped the other shoe.
"Eva... there's something else you need to know about Hudson."
The reality of Eva's "good match" became clear. The only reason a woman of her status could climb into a top-tier family like the Farleys was that Hudson Farley was damaged goods.
He'd gotten involved with a nightclub hostess and impregnated her.
The woman had tried to leverage the child into the family, but the Farleys were ruthless. They couldn't allow such a scandal to tarnish their reputation. They'd paid her off to disappear, but were left with a problem: Hudson needed a wife. Specifically, a well-educated, sensible, easily controlled wife to stabilize his image.
"This matter..." Amelia's voice trembled. "If you can't accept it, we'll forget this marriage. Don't worry about the company. Don't blame your aunt... I only just found out the details."
Eva wasn't her biological daughter, but Amelia had loved her fiercely for more than ten years. If the Mason family hadn't been backed into a corner, she never would have suggested such a compromise.
Eva looked at the photos of the smiling young man.
"Aunt Amelia," she said softly, her voice steady. "I can accept it."
Money, status, and a ready-made child? She wouldn't have to go through childbirth, wouldn't have to pretend to be in love. She'd have everything she needed, except affection.
And right now, affection was the last thing she wanted. This marriage was perfect.
