Hearing the deep, magnetic voice on the other end of the line, Evangeline felt herself drift for a moment.
She’d once given up a promising career for marriage, a choice her friend and former classmate, Glenn Carlisle, could never understand. Their argument about it had been fierce and unforgettable.
“Evangeline, are you really willing to throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for, just for the sake of some marriage you can’t even see clearly? For a future that might not even exist?*
He pressed on, voice tight with frustration. “Have you thought about the possibility that Soren doesn’t love you? What if one day you get divorced and you’re left with nothing? What will you do then?”
He fell silent, jaw clenched, the disappointment in his eyes unmistakable.
At last, he hugged her, letting out a heavy, resigned sigh. “Fine. If you ever regret this, you can always come back.”
Back then, she’d been so sure of herself–convinced that maybe, just maybe, she
could win Soren’s heart.
After all, theirs hadn’t been a marriage entirely without feeling.
Not long after her mother died, on her eighteenth birthday, her father and stepmother had thrown her out of the house with nowhere to go. Soren was the one who found her trembling and lost, took her in, and when he realized it was her birthday, had a cake delivered in the middle of the night so she wouldn’t have to spend it alone.
For a while after that, in a city aglow with a thousand windows, there was always one light burning just for her.
Beneath the splendor of fireworks, there had been a moment that belonged only to
her.
She’d once dared to dream that this man might be the one she could trust her li.
- to.
But now, looking back, she realized chasing love at the cost of her own future had been nothing short of foolish.
“Let’s talk in detail.”
1/3
21:04
Evangeline didn’t ask how he’d found out she wanted a divorce, Clutching her phon until her fingertips blanched, she spoke, voice barely above a whisper, “I want to come home.”
Inside a lavishly lit private room at the club, Soren lounged carelessly against the back of the sofa, one arm propping up his head, the other swirling a glass of whiskey without much interest. His impossibly long legs were stretched out and crossed on the coffee table, exuding an air of casual indifference.
He hadn’t said a word since he walked in, but everyone could sense his foul mood.
No one dared risk getting on his bad side.
Liam sat nearby, glancing over now and then. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he had a gut feeling it had something to do with Evangeline.
After wrestling with it for a while, Liam finally leaned forward and said, “Soren, take it easy. Is it because Evangeline is still refusing to sign the divorce papers?”
“This isn’t something you can rush,” Liam continued, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to comfort him. “Evangeline’s always been stubborn, but with Poppy back in town, I’m sure she’ll come around soon enough.”
But as Liam spoke, Soren’s mind flashed back to the look on Evangeline’s face when she handed him the divorce agreement–so earnest and determined.
A strange, restless irritation welled up in his chest.
Even Liam knew the truth: it was Soren who’d asked for the divorce, not Evangeline. She was the one unwilling to let go. So what was she playing at now?
“She’ll agree to the divorce? I don’t buy it.”
Before he could dwell on it, a drunken playboy nearby, arm draped around a woman, let out a loud laugh. “Come on, everyone knows how much Evangeline loves
Soren.”
“Remember right after they got married? Soren showed up at a charity gala with some starlet just to provoke her. Evangeline found out and, instead of getting ad, she actually helped that actress get more connections–just to please Soren!”
“I bet, even with Poppy back, she won’t ever agree to divorce. She’d probably rather be the other woman than lose him.”
He dissolved into raucous laughter.
Liam couldn’t help but silently agree. Over the years, Evangeline had gone to great lengths to win Soren back, but since Soren never cared for her, she’d become little more than the punchline of Serenity City’s high society. On paper, she was Mrs. Fawkes, but in reality, she was a walking joke.
Chapter 15
