Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Evelyn
I froze in place. Caroline didn't seem to notice—or care. Instead, she stepped forward and clasped my right hand in both of hers.
She showed no trace of a wife's fury, no arrogant condescension of an elder. Her eyes met mine, filled with apology.
"I'm sorry, Evelyn." Caroline's voice was gentle, sincere. "For what Julian said to you last night at the gala—those crude insults—I need to apologize."
I tried to pull my hand back, uncomfortable. She held tight.
"This is my fault. I've been in London for years, neglecting his upbringing. That's why he turned out like this—no manners, no decency. You didn't deserve that."
Her gracious self-reproach caught me completely off guard. My mother died young. Women like this, warm, refined, had always drawn me in.
"Hello, Caroline." I squeezed her hand back, shaking my head. "You don't need to apologize. This isn't your responsibility. What happened between us... It's complicated."
"You're very kind." Caroline smiled and released my hand. "It's freezing out here. Let's go inside."
I followed her into the house. The moment we stepped into the grand foyer, Caroline slipped off her cashmere wrap. Old Henry rushed forward to take it.
"Henry, relax. Julian will come home once he's cooled off." Caroline smiled at him, then issued her orders smoothly. "Bring Miss Gray some hot tea. She's frozen. And prepare the south-facing sunroom on the second floor for her."
Henry bowed and left.
Caroline turned to me with an apologetic smile.
"This big house only has Victor and Julian, two men who don't know the first thing about making a home.
Everything's so cold and hard here. Please don't mind it.
Victor had to leave. He asked me to look after you—his business always demands his attention. Let's get you something to eat."
Her flawless grace and warmth made me feel awkward, my hands useless at my sides.
But watching her perfect, elegant figure, curiosity stirred in me.
She and Victor seemed like a perfect match—poised, refined, beautiful. The ideal couple.
Why did they divorce?
Victor didn't return to the manor until late that night. When he walked into the dining room, he brought the bitter cold with him. He pulled out the head chair and sat.
That evening, the atmosphere was suffocating.
The massive crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, blazing harsh light. The long mahogany table was laden with food, but I had no appetite. I sat to Victor's right. Caroline sat to his left.
This awkward triangle made me squirm in my seat. They were once husband and wife. They shared a son.
And I sat here as his acknowledged mistress. Mortifying.
I kept my head down, mechanically cutting the steak on my plate, occasionally stealing glances at Victor across the table, wondering if he'd say anything about this mess—or about Julian leaving.
But Victor said nothing. His jaw was tight, his face exhausted. I didn't know what he'd dealt with today, but I could feel his irritation simmering.
Caroline set down her silver utensils and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. She turned to Victor, worry in her eyes.
"Victor, Julian's gone. You know that." She broke the silence. "He's a wreck."
Victor lifted his whiskey glass, didn't even look up. "He's a grown man. If he wants to run off, let him. I'm not his babysitter."
"How can you be so cold?" Caroline frowned, her voice thick with maternal concern. "He's your son. People want him dead. And he didn't even take security."
"Luca's got men following him. He'll survive." Victor cut his steak, annoyed.
Caroline didn't back down. She leaned toward him.
"Fine. Then at least let me stay here for a while." Her voice softened, pleading. "I'm not going back to England until I see my son safe and home."
She paused. Then she turned those beautiful, concerned eyes on me.
"Evelyn, I hope my staying won't make you uncomfortable." Caroline's smile was perfect, her tone gentle. "You don't mind, do you?"
I wasn't ready for her to throw the question at me. I froze, my mind blank.
Mind? What right did I have to mind? Victor and I weren't the kind of people who got jealous over each other.
I gripped my utensils hard, forcing out the words.
"I don't mind."
Victor stopped chewing. He set down his fork and turned to me. His blue eyes searched my face, unreadable. He didn't speak. Just stared.
His gaze made my pulse race, my fingers twisting the napkin in my lap. I didn't know why I was so tense. I couldn't even meet his eyes.
I stared at my plate, heart pounding, waiting for his response. A ridiculous thought crossed my mind—that he was waiting for me to take it back. To object.
But finally, Victor looked away. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
"Do what you want. You're Julian's mother. Stay as long as you like."
He agreed.
The moment he said it, a sharp ache twisted in my chest.
Then I felt pathetic. Angry at myself.
Why, Evelyn? What the hell is wrong with you? Why does this hurt? You have no right to feel bitter. You and Victor—it's just a dirty transaction. Nothing more.
In the end, Caroline moved in. Which was actually good news for me.
Victor suddenly got busy. He left before dawn and didn't return until late at night. We didn't speak, but I could sense something was happening. Now wasn't the time to bother him. But being trapped alone in this massive, cold manor, surrounded by expressionless bodyguards in black, was unbearable.
Caroline was right. This manor was grand and luxurious, but it lacked warmth.
In this suffocating place, having another woman to talk to was a relief. Caroline was charming, always finding topics I enjoyed. Around her, my nerves relaxed. I felt comfortable with her.
Today we'd agreed to meet for afternoon tea.
I changed into a wool cardigan and followed a maid to the glass conservatory. It was warm inside, expensive roses in full bloom. Caroline sat in a wicker chair, fine china and a three-tiered pastry stand before her.
I sat across from her.
"Good afternoon, Evelyn. Try this tea. I brought it from London—top-grade Ceylon." Caroline smiled and poured me a cup.
"Thank you, Caroline." I took it with both hands.
We started with small talk—London's rainy weather, New York fashion. Caroline was worldly, every word pleasant, her manner impeccable. The atmosphere was warm.
"You know, Evelyn, I'm curious." Caroline leaned toward me, her eyes probing, amused, looking me up and down. "What clever tricks did you use to latch onto Victor so fast? You must have worked hard for it."
My teacup froze mid-air. The sudden attack left me staring at her, stunned. Just a minute ago, this woman had seemed so kind and understanding.
I never expected her to turn on me like this.
"Caroline, I know you're confused, but it's not like that."
She ignored me. Instead, she raised her voice. The conservatory door was ajar—I saw the two maids outside turn their heads.
Caroline put on a pitying expression, shaking her head.
"I understand you needed someone to lean on.
But as a mother, I have to feel sorry for my Julian.
" She sighed dramatically, loud enough for the maids to hear.
"We sheltered him too much. He's too naive, too kind.
That's why a girl like you—pretty, ruthless, hungry for money and power—could play him so easily. "
My breath quickened. I opened my mouth to argue. But the moment I heard Julian's name, I lost all my confidence. I didn't know what to say.
I'd been too naive. Caroline wasn't as indifferent to my presence as she'd seemed.
She was Victor's wife. Julian's mother. Of course she hated me.
"I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. I'm going back to my room."
I didn't wait for her response. I turned and walked out fast.
The moment I stepped outside, the two maids rolled their eyes at me, not even trying to hide it.
I clenched my jaw, ignored them, and headed for the main building. I hadn't gone far when I heard them gossiping behind me, loud and shameless.
"What a shameless woman."
"She drove Julian away, and she's still got the nerve to stay here."
I quickened my pace, laughing bitterly to myself. Right. I wasn't welcome here.