51. Chapter 46
Some Promises Were Meant to Be Broken
Evin
H er heart stopped. And then—It slammed back into motion.
“Evin.” His voice was low.
But she felt it like a whisper of something dark wrapping around her throat.
Sergej's presence was suffocating, his grip—cold. Unyielding.
Her body froze and for a second everything else ceased to exist.
Just him.
The nightmare she had sworn she would never see again.
He pulled her forward without another word, leading her into a small side room, the door closing softly behind them.
Panic flashed through Evin, sharp and electric, as the space around her suddenly felt too small.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
For a brief moment, she was back in that night, trapped in his shadow .
But then, she dug her nails into her palm, grounding herself in the present. Immediately, she yanked her arm free and stepped back.
“What are you doing?” Her voice came out louder than she had intended.
Her gaze flickered between him and the closed door.
Sergej's stance was tense.
His face looked drawn—older somehow. The usual smugness stripped away, replaced by something tight and unreadable.
“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you even here? Trying to provoke me?”
His voice was quiet. Almost too quiet.
But his words cut like glass.
Evin felt anger rise in her, a burning wave pushing aside the icy grip of fear.
"Provoke you?" She let out a short, humorless laugh. "You're the one who dragged me in here. What do you want?"
He was silent for a moment, running a hand through his dark hair. His smirk had a desperate edge to it. "You know, I thought you'd be over all this by now. You're strong, smart. But instead, you're here, staring at me like I'm some kind of monster."
Monster. The word echoed in her head. Yes, that’s exactly what he was. But something in his expression was different—there was no confidence like before. Instead, she saw something unexpected. Nervousness. A flicker of uncertainty.
"Because you are one," Evin hissed, lifting her chin. "And if you think I’ll ever forget what you did, you’re wrong."
His smirk faded. For a moment, something else flickered in his eyes—was it fear? He shook his head, his usual sarcasm laced with unease. "You haven’t told anyone, have you? Evin, I mean… I know you’re mad. But you haven’t said anything. Otherwise, I’d be in handcuffs by now."
The words hit like a blade. Why hadn’t she told anyone? The thought clawed at her, just like it had for months. It had been easier to stay silent. Easier to shove the truth into a dark corner of her mind and pretend she was fine. But was it really easier?
"Not yet," she said coldly.
Her words struck him like a slap, and he took half a step toward her.
"Evin, listen to me," he said, raising his hands as if to calm her.
His voice grew more urgent. "You don’t want this going public, do you?
Not for you, not for me. I know you hate me, but—" He cut himself off, searching for the right words.
"We both know how quickly stories like this spin out of control.
Think about your family, your reputation. "
Family. Reputation. The knot in Evin’s chest tightened. He knew exactly which buttons to press. Her thoughts spiraled, fueled by anger, but that quiet voice of fear crept in the background.
"You’re talking about my reputation?" Evin scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Just admit you're scared. You're only trying to save yourself."
"Of course, I am!" His voice suddenly rose, and a bitter laugh escaped him. "What do you think? That I'm standing here because I enjoy being the villain in your little story?"
His words stunned her for a moment, but she refused to waver. "You chose this role, Sergej. You took my choices away."
"Evin…" He stepped closer again, his hand reaching for her arm—gentler this time, but still insistent. "I made mistakes. Terrible mistakes. But you have to understand—"
"I don’t have to do anything!" She ripped her arm free, her voice trembling with fury. The heat of her emotions surged through her, making the world tilt for a second. "This ends today. I will never let you make me feel afraid again."
His eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to argue, but the door burst open with a loud bang.
Milka stood in the doorway, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.
"Evin!" Her voice was sharp with worry. Sergej let go of her and stepped back, but it was too late.
Why now? Why do I feel this again? I swore he’d never make me feel this way again. But those words… his voice, his gaze… It’s like I’m being pulled back in time. Why did I stay silent? Did I make this too easy for him?
Milka. Milk a is here. I’m not alone. But… everything is blurring. Everything is getting heavy… Why can’t I breathe?
The cold grip of panic and the heat of rage merged into an overwhelming storm. The sounds around her faded, like she was underwater. Her knees weakened, the ground seemed to rise to meet her. Her heart pounded, her throat burned, and then—nothing.
Milka’s voice was calling her, but it was only a whisper, growing softer with every pulse of her racing heartbeat.
Then darkness swallowed her whole.
__________
Sebastian
" B as!"
The voice cut through the noise of the auction.
The room was filled with the murmur of conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the deep, rhythmic voice of the auctioneer.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our next highlight—"
But Sebastian heard none of it as he turned to see Milka rushing toward him.
Her face was pale as a ghost, her eyes filled with panic. Before he could react, she grabbed his arm, her nails digging into the fabric of his suit.
"Evin passed out."
The words made everything around him disappear.
The grand chandeliers, the softly glowing fairy lights, the murmuring guests—it all faded as his heartbeat roared in his ears.
"What?" His voice was a sharp growl that made Milka flinch.
"Side room," she gasped, dragging him through the crowd. Guests stepped aside, thr owing them confused glances. "She’s awake, but—"
"What did Sergej do?" His voice was low, vibrating with barely restrained fury, and his steps quickened.
"Bas, wait!"
Milka yanked him to a stop and pulled him into a quiet corner where the noise of the event dulled slightly. Her hand pressed firmly against his chest, her breath coming fast as she struggled to find the right words.
"Before you do anything… you need to know."
"Tell me." His voice was razor-sharp, his eyes burning with unspoken rage.
"He was… he assaulted her… months ago," Milka whispered, her voice barely audible.
The sentence made him freeze.
The dazzling ballroom, the elegant decor, the glittering chandeliers—all of it vanished from his mind.
"He took everything from her."
The words echoed in his head, growing louder and louder.
"When? What do you mean?" His voice broke slightly, his eyes drilling into hers.
"Back then. Before the Christmas holidays. It wasn’t consensual." The words came out quickly, as if Milka was trying to get them all out before she lost her courage. "He forced her, Bas. And she never told you because she was afraid."
His breathing became uneven, his jaw clenched, and his temples throbbed as he tried to process the meaning of her words. Nausea rose in his chest.
"Afraid of what?"
"That you’d misunderstand. That you’d think she wanted it. That you would—"
"That’s bullshit." His voice exploded, raw and unrestrained fury breaking free. Milka flinched, but it wasn’t her he was angry at. His gaze was elsewhere, his thoughts a raging storm.
"Bas, listen to me—"
"No." He pushed her hand aside, his stare cold, cutting, his steps determined.
"I wasn’t even allowed to tell you, but I can’t just stand by and watch her destroy herself anymore."
The only thing Bas cared about now was: "Where is he?"
"Bas!" Milka grabbed his arm again, tighter this time, more desperate. "This isn’t what she needs!"
"She needs this to stop," he growled, not even looking at her. His eyes were already scanning the crowd, his breathing heavy.
"Bas, damn it!" Milka kept pace with him, her voice a sharp whisper under the festive music. "This won’t make things better. Not for her!"
But he wasn’t listening anymore. It will.
The warmth of the lights, the elegant surroundings, the voices of the guests—all of it meant nothing.
His focus was on one thing: Sergej.
His body moved on autopilot, his rage burned hotter than anything else.
Sergej was going to pay and it was going to happen tonight.
His footsteps hit the wooden floor hard, the room around him turning into a surreal blur of sounds and lights. The soft music, the clinking of glasses, the muffled laughter—it all sounded like a cruel mockery.
His breath was heavy, his muscles stretched so tight they felt ready to snap.
But underneath all the fury, in its darkest core, there was something else—guilt.
I should have noticed.
Why didn’t I see it?
The thoughts slammed into his mind, sharp and relentless.
Evin, trying to keep her smile while her eyes said something else. The quiet moments when she suddenly fell silent.
The way she sometimes tensed when he touched her—so subtle that he had ignored it.
She went through this alone. Because of him. And because of me.
His nails dug into his palms, but the pain barely registered.
Every memory, e very unspoken sentence, every moment he hadn’t been there for her piled up inside him.
Guilt and rage fused into a deadly mix, propelling him forward.
I let her down. I left her alone, and he destroyed her.
A dull pressure built in his chest, hot and suffocating.
His jaw ached from clenching his teeth, his thoughts spiraling uncontrollably.
How could she think I wouldn’t understand?
That I would see her differently?
The room spun around him.
The stage, the dance floor stretching beneath it like a magnet pulling the whole tent together, looked surreal, like the people on it were dancing without solid ground beneath them.