My phone buzzed for the fifth time that morning—and for the first time, I wished it would stop. Travis’s name flashed across the screen like a warning I couldn’t ignore. The first message had arrived at dawn: “I was a fool. Forgive me.”
I ignored it. So far, so good. But the next one hit harder: “Think of what this will do to Grandma Mae. Do you really want to disappoint her?”
My hands trembled as I set the cup down. He knew exactly where to strike. Grandma Mae—the one family member who had truly loved me—was his weapon.
Another text followed minutes later: “I lost my head over Sophia, but you and I—we had something real.”
Something real? I almost laughed. Five years of being a placeholder, of being seen through like glass—that wasn’t real. That was a prison sentence.
I turned the phone off, unable to sit still any longer.
-
I found the gardens at the far end of the estate, past manicured lawns and hedges. Here, wild roses tangled with ivy, paths were overgrown, and a pond choked with algae. Yet beneath the neglect, the bones of the place were beautiful—ancient oaks cast dappled shade, and stone benches waited for someone to notice.
I returned to the house, grabbed paper and pencils, and came back.
For the next hour, my hand moved almost on its own, sketching new pathways, clearing the pond, and imagining flowering shrubs replacing the choking ivy.
“Aren’t you going to add some color?”
I startled. Arthur Goode stood a few feet away, observing quietly.
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I shouldn’t—”
“No apologies needed,” he interrupted. “That garden has been waiting for someone to see its potential.”
He leaned closer to study my sketches. His eyes, intense like Nathan’s, widened slightly.
“You have quite an eye, Ms. Summers.”
“Evelyn,” I corrected automatically. “I studied landscape architecture before…”
“Before Travis convinced you your dreams didn’t matter?” Arthur finished, matter-of-fact.
I glanced down at my sketches. “Something like that.”
“Well,” he said slowly, “your talent is alive. Consider this space yours. Bring it back to life if you wish.”
The offer caught me off guard. Not just generosity, but trust.
“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the sketches like a shield.
-
The garden became my sanctuary over the next few days. I spent hours sketching, planning, feeling alive again.
I didn’t notice Nathan until he spoke. “You’re still wearing it.”
I looked up, startled. He watched my right hand—the small silver ring still circling my pinky finger.
“It was… important to me,” I said.
His expression softened. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the bench beside me.
We sat in silence, sun filtering through the leaves. For the first time since his return, we existed without the past pressing down.
“I remember when we used to sit like this,” he said quietly. “Just… being.”
“You do?” I asked.
“I remember everything, Evelyn,” he said. The words hung between us, weighted with all that remained unsaid.
-
The gates of the Goode estate clanged shut behind me. Travis stood at the entrance, his suit rumpled, face flushed with anger.
“I need to see Evelyn! This is between me and her!”
Before I could react, Nathan appeared beside me, calm and solid.
“Let him try,” he said quietly. “He won’t get in.”
Travis spotted us, desperation flashing across his face. “Evelyn! We need to talk! This isn’t over!”
Nathan stepped slightly in front of me, protective but not controlling.
“It is over, Carter,” he said, voice calm, authoritative. “You made your choice at the cathedral. Now live with it.”
Travis’s voice darkened. “This isn’t about you, Hayes. Did you forget while playing spy in Russia?”
Nathan didn’t flinch. He descended the steps, stopping just out of reach. “I didn’t forget anything. Unlike you, who seems to have forgotten Evelyn isn’t your property.”
“She belongs with me,” Travis insisted, voice losing its edge.
“No,” Nathan said simply. Their eyes locked—one blazing with fury, the other steady with authority. “She doesn’t belong to anyone.”
