Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Evelyn
I opened my eyes to tangled sheets beneath me.
Before I could move, pain swept through my body. Victor's roughness last night had been extreme—my shoulders and back were stiff from the hardened wax, pulling tight with every movement as I forced myself upright. The motion tore a burning sting across my skin.
The bastard was already gone, leaving only the lingering smell of his tobacco in the air.
You're mine.
His growl from last night slammed back into my head.
"Fuck you, Victor," I snarled through clenched teeth.
Victor Moretti, you better pray your goddamn business is clean enough.
I didn't know when, didn't know how I'd strike back, but I swore—someday he'd regret the night he pinned me down.
Leaning against the cold wall, I stumbled into the bathroom.
I clawed off the hardened wax, scrubbed every inch of skin he'd touched with the sponge. I had to wash away every trace of him—his scent, his touch. I was not his toy. I did not belong to him.
After the shower, I roughly dried my hair and walked back to the bedroom.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the shredded silk dress on the floor, my brain finally started working again. Replaying everything that had happened.
Victor had seen through all my pretenses from the start.
He knew I'd come to the manor to investigate my father's disappearance.
He'd watched me clumsily drug his son, sneak into his study.
.. He'd even broken into my apartment ahead of time to steal that photo and plant it in the cabinet to mock me.
This cunning man—whether his role in my father's disappearance or his violent possession of me—made me sick to my stomach.
Victor was a dead end. Finding clues from him would only bury me deeper.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, found Victor's number, and blocked him.
Never again, asshole.
After blocking him, I took a deep breath. A brief moment of relief.
But this apartment was compromised. Victor had broken in twice with ease. As long as I stayed here, I'd live under his surveillance and control forever.
I had to leave immediately.
The realtor was efficient. Soon she sent me an address—a ground-floor unit in a townhouse hidden behind tall trees, with a private garage. Remote but clean inside, with excellent security.
I spent a safe week there.
During that week, Victor never appeared. No one came looking. He'd probably already forgotten me. Men like Victor Moretti never lacked women. I was just a passing amusement.
Thank God he and his bastard son were cut from the same cloth. But as for investigating my father's disappearance, I'd have to find another way.
Though my father was a typical politician, used to navigating New York's dark forest, he'd always protected me well. I'd barely touched any of this world, making investigation difficult. Just as I was about to contact some retired cops, my phone started vibrating violently.
An unfamiliar Los Angeles number. Not many people had this private line.
I reached out, hit accept, and pressed the phone to my ear.
"Evelyn, it's Sarah. Thank God I finally got through."
A shrill, anxious female voice. I recognized her immediately. Sarah—currently Hollywood's highest-paid, hottest action star. We'd met briefly at Richard's law firm.
"How did you get my number?" I asked warily, sitting up straight instinctively.
"God knows how much trouble it took, but forget that now. You better have Richard contact me immediately." Sarah's words came rapid-fire, barely pausing.
"My father's currently in Europe on business, return date undetermined. If you have any legal disputes, call our office directly. I'll assign a partner to your case." I delivered the standard PR line, trying to steady her.
"Save your goddamn corporate bullshit. I don't have time for this.
" Sarah screamed hysterically on the other end.
"Richard owes me an explanation. This morning, someone sent me an encrypted email.
Full of video recordings from those private parties I attended.
They're demanding ten million dollars in hush money within three days, or they'll sell everything to every tabloid in America. "
My stomach dropped. My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white.
"What are you talking about?" I forced myself to stay calm, voice low.
"You know damn well," Sarah shouted. "I went to your father personally to handle this.
He promised me all the digital negatives and originals were completely destroyed.
He said there'd be no backups. So why the hell are these things in someone else's hands now?
Who did your father sell my privacy to?"
Though I'd never handled Sarah's case, I knew the details.
It was one of Richard's leverage points.
Richard never trusted electronic devices—he knew network systems could be hacked.
He recorded these dirty secrets of the elite in his own unique code, handwritten, paired with incriminating physical photos, locked in that classified black book.
And now, my father was missing, and the secrets were being dug up again.
I steadied myself, replied coldly. "I don't know the specifics of your situation."
"Listen, if Richard doesn't come out and give me a reasonable explanation and clean this up completely, I'm going to the FBI. I'll spill everything about how your family used legal cover to hide our crimes. If I go down, I'm taking your whole family with me."
Sarah slammed the phone down. Cold dial tone in my ear.
I stared at the screen, thoughts spinning.
Before I could form a complete thought, a breaking news banner popped up at the top.
The headline read: Manhattan luxury apartment suffers severe violent break-in, police launch full investigation.
I clicked in. Below the text, two high-res photos loaded.
The first showed the security door of my old apartment—the metal door blown clean off its frame by force.
The second showed the interior devastation.
My favorite bright orange sofa slashed into countless shreds, foam spilling everywhere across the floor.
The glass coffee table shattered into fragments. Every cabinet door smashed, drawers pulled out and dumped.
Coincidence? Just an ordinary burglary? My whole body went cold. I didn't dare think further.
Today's cascade of pressure was crushing me. But through exhaustion and despair, a spark of hope suddenly flared.
That black book. Every entry written in Richard's personal cipher. No key, no pattern. No one in the world could crack those codes except him. Which meant... they needed him alive to decode that damned book. He had to be alive. Somewhere. Somehow.
What I needed to do now was keep my father's crumbling firm headquarters running. It was his life's work, the core of our family's power. I had to sit there, calm anxious clients, process mountains of files, to cover up the truth of his disappearance.
I rushed to my father's office, buried myself in backed-up case files.
Halfway through the documents, I raised my hand, rubbing my throbbing temples.
The heavy office door was shoved violently open from outside, slamming into the wall hard enough to nearly crack the plaster.
I looked up.
My grandfather, Alexander, stormed in, face livid.
Bodyguards spread out quickly, covering every corner of the office and locking the door behind them.
Grandfather strode to my desk, planted both hands on the surface, and leaned forward. Those cloudy but oppressive, furious eyes locked on me.
"What the hell are you poking around for at a time like this? Your father's probably dead already. Why stir up those bastards hiding in the shadows? Are you determined to push this entire family over the cliff, Evelyn?"
"He's not dead! Who the hell else can read that goddamn book? I'm just trying to find the truth, then figure out what stupid shit your son's been doing." I shouted back.
"I don't care what the truth is. I only know I need to protect this family.
" Alexander issued his order in the tone of an uncompromising dictator.
"Starting this second, pull back all the private investigators you hired.
Stop digging for any information about your father's whereabouts.
Don't step one foot outside the family's protection. Understand?"
"I refuse. I won't just sit here waiting to die." I bit down hard, making my position clear.
Grandfather let out a cold laugh. He straightened up and slowly adjusted his suit collar. He pulled a photo from his pocket and casually tossed it in front of me.
"Whether you accept it or not, I've already made the decision for you." Grandfather's tone was ruthless, emotionless.
I looked down. The photo showed a young man in an expensive tailored suit with a fake smile. Perfectly groomed blond hair, eyes holding an uncomfortable arrogance.
"This is the Smith family's eldest grandson, Charlie. His father's a sitting Supreme Court justice, his uncle runs New York's largest police union. His family background is deep enough, powerful enough." Grandfather pointed at the photo.
"What are you saying?" A bad feeling rose in my chest.
"It's simple. You will marry Charlie in the shortest time possible.
" Grandfather spoke in the cold tone of discussing a business transaction.
"We need the Smith family's protection. Only by binding our families through political marriage can we weather the coming storm and consolidate the family's power.
It's the only way to quell the fury of those powerful elites.
Show them we have backing strong enough that they won't dare make a move. "
This was utterly absurd. Rage shattered my rationality completely.
"You're insane. You want to sell me off like a political bargaining chip." I grabbed the photo and tried to throw it at his chest. It fluttered lightly to the carpet. "I will never marry a man I don't even know. You can't control my life."
Grandfather didn't flinch. He looked at me coldly, no trace of family affection in his eyes.
"This is not negotiable, Evelyn. You were born into this family, enjoyed all its privileges and wealth. Now it's time to pay the price. This is your destiny."
With that, Grandfather turned and walked out without looking back. The bodyguards followed quickly.
The door closed in front of me with another dull boom.
Destiny?
I stared at the closed door, feeling utterly desperate. Even knowing Alexander had always been cold toward family, I never imagined he'd be completely indifferent to his own son's whereabouts—that he'd expect me to let him sell me to the highest bidder to save himself.
No. I would never allow it. I would never let myself be married off to a man I didn't love.
So now, there was only one option left.