Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Evelyn
You're the most important woman in my life. The only one I care about.
The line sounded too damn clichéd, the kind of thing young guys said while cupping a girl's face, conning some naive fool into swooning over them.
It didn't sound like something Victor would say at all. He wasn't the type for sweet talk.
But damn it, I believed him. Worse, I was happy about it.
I rolled over in bed, buried my face in the pillow—still carrying his scent, making my scalp tingle—and then rolled around like an idiot, nearly tumbling off the mattress.
God.
I was in love with Victor Moretti.
It sounded absurd as hell. What kind of soap opera bullshit was this? If my mother were still alive, she'd climb out of her grave.
But that was the truth. I lay in his bed, wrapped in his sheets, breathing in his smell, replaying what he'd whispered in my ear last night, grinning like a lunatic.
Okay, enough. I needed to stop rolling around acting like some lovesick teenager. Victor was out there looking for my father. Time to grow up. Time to do something a mature person would do.
Like what?
Go talk to his ex-wife.
I still didn't like Caroline, but at the end of the day, she'd only said some nasty things. She was Julian's mother. From her perspective, I was a total asshole.
Her resentment made sense.
But now that Victor and I were together, maintaining some kind of tolerable relationship with the other important woman in this house was necessary. Even if it was just surface-level civility. Even if it was just not-poisoning-each-other's-coffee level.
I had to be an adult.
I climbed out of bed, pulled on a beige cashmere sweater and black cigarette pants. Today, I just wanted to look like a mature woman with sincere intentions.
Downstairs, I found a maid polishing silverware in the dining room. She told me curtly that Caroline was in Julian's room, then went back to scrubbing that damn teaspoon like it was ten thousand times more interesting than me.
Fine. Nothing to get worked up about. The maids' attitude toward me in this house was standard. I was used to it.
I walked to Julian's door. It was half-open. I took a deep breath, knocked twice, and pushed inside.
Caroline stood in the center of the room.
She wore an ivory knit cardigan with beige cashmere pants, her hair twisted into a low chignon.
She looked like she'd stepped off the cover of some magazine for elegant women in their forties.
She was leaning over Julian's nightstand, arranging a pile of things—some books, an antique pocket watch, a photo in a silver frame.
She looked up. Saw me. Blinked once. Then gave me a standard, well-bred smile.
"Evelyn," she said. "You're up early. I thought you wouldn't want to see me."
I took a deep breath, rehearsing what I'd planned to say.
Stay calm, Evelyn. Don't be impulsive.
"Good morning, Caroline." I tried to make my smile look genuine. "Could I have a moment of your time?"
Caroline set down the silver letter opener she'd produced from somewhere, placing it gently on the nightstand.
"Of course, dear."
I stepped forward, twisted my fingers together, and forced myself to speak.
"I wanted to apologize for what happened before. About Julian." I said. "I admit I treated him terribly. I used his feelings for me. I humiliated him in front of people. I have no excuse for that. I'm sorry."
Caroline's expression remained blank. She simply lowered her head and continued folding Julian's socks into neat little squares, silently waiting for me to continue.
I exhaled.
"And about what's happening between Victor and me," I said. "We are... in love. I know you think I'm some disgusting woman who played father and son, but what Victor and I have is far more complicated than it looks. Neither of us meant to hurt Julian."
I'd said everything I came to say. I waited nervously for her response. I wasn't used to backing down, but for Victor, I was willing.
Caroline laughed softly. Then she looked up at me. The smile faded slowly, replaced by something mocking.
She picked up the silver letter opener again, turning it over in her hands expressionlessly.
I took an instinctive half-step back.
"Do you really think this pathetic apology means anything to me?" she said.
I froze, completely unprepared for her to be even harsher than I'd imagined.
"A pathetic, childish apology." She slowed her words, enunciating each one. "Evelyn, you took my place, you hurt my son—what kind of idiot do you take me for? What made that garbage-filled brain of yours think a few empty words could make me forgive you?"
My cheeks burned. Blood rushed to my head.
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," I said, jaw tight, voice hardening. "I just wanted to clear up the misunderstanding."
"Clear up what?" Caroline stepped closer with the knife. "That you're a woman who'll sell every principle to climb the ladder? Honey, I've met a thousand women like you. You didn't need to come to Julian's room to remind me."
I clenched my teeth.
"Caroline," I said. "You're out of line. I genuinely wanted to work this out."
She laughed coldly, then shifted gears.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
I stiffened.
Caroline had heard? She'd heard everything that happened between Victor and me last night? God, however you looked at it, this was mortifying.
"Enjoy yourself?" Caroline said slowly. "You sounded like you were having a great time. Very enthusiastic. But I have to tell you, Evelyn—it just makes you look like more of a whore."
Humiliation and rage flooded through me.
Blood rushed to my face. I'd never been insulted so crudely to my face. Never.
"What happens between Victor and me," I said, voice shaking with anger, "is none of your business."
"I know it's not my business." Caroline sneered.
"But I find it fascinating. How far will a woman degrade herself to marry a powerful man?
You were shaking your well-trained little ass at Julian a few months ago.
Then you couldn't wait to crawl into his father's bed. Evelyn, you're impressively shameless."
"Caroline, you better shut your mouth right now," I warned.
"I'm just getting started," Caroline said coldly.
I balled my fists. I could feel my nails digging into my palms, sharp and painful.
"Let's talk about your father," Caroline said.
My whole body went rigid. I stared at her in disbelief.
"Your missing father. Do you know what everyone says about him behind closed doors?"
My fingers started trembling.
"Caroline. Don't push it."
Her eyes locked on mine. "Richard was greedy, a con artist who used people's secrets to buy political power. He was a manipulative fraud, Evelyn, and your talent for using your body to climb the ladder is clearly hereditary."
"Shut up!" I screamed.
Caroline didn't back down.
"Your father's probably rotting in some stinking sewer right now." She smiled viciously. "Or buried in some unmarked hole. Men like him are a menace alive and carrion when they're dead. Evelyn, remember this—genetics are a terrible thing. You'll end up just as pathetic as he did."
My eyes burned.
I knew my father better than this woman ever could.
Yes, he was a politician who played all sides.
He maneuvered between power players. He collected dirt on half of New York's elite and wrote it all neatly in that damn black book.
But he never made any of it public. He never used that book to threaten anyone.
He just used those secrets to build a wall and protect our family—a family without deep roots—behind it.
The Gray family wasn't bankers. We didn't have six generations of inherited wealth.
We were just people struggling to survive in Manhattan.
Everything my father did—every midnight meeting, every whiskey with mob bosses in smoke-filled rooms, every forced smile at senators during White House dinners—all of it was to protect this family.
To protect me.
I lost all control.
I lunged forward, grabbed her collar with both hands, and yanked her toward me. Her expensive cardigan bunched and twisted in my grip.
"Take back every word you said about my father," I said through gritted teeth. My voice scraped out of my throat, distorted by rage. "Right now."
Caroline made no attempt to pull away. Instead, she gave me a cold, provocative smile.
"I won't take back a single word," she said, chin raised.
My right hand left her collar. The next second, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face as hard as I could.
Crack.
I hit her so hard my palm stung. Caroline's face snapped to the side, a red handprint blooming on her cheek. A strand of hair fell loose from her chignon.
But Caroline didn't back down. She smiled faintly and brushed my hand off her collar. She carefully smoothed out her wrinkled cardigan.
"You'll regret that slap," Caroline said, voice turning icy. "Because you have no idea what I mean to Victor. You think he left me?"
She leaned in close, less than eight inches from my face.
"I left him first. I was young. I wanted a different life. But people change their minds."
My stomach churned.
"What the hell do you want?" I demanded.
"I'm ready to come back," she said calmly. "My son is here. My ex-husband is here. My house is here."
She reached out and picked up the photo frame from Julian's nightstand.
I hadn't looked closely when I came in, but now I saw it was a picture of Victor, Caroline, and a ten-year-old Julian.
They stood by the ocean somewhere in Europe, Julian on Victor's shoulders, Caroline's arm around Victor's waist, all three of them smiling like the world's most perfect family.
"Victor belongs to me. And I'm going to take him back."