Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Victor
I hadn't had a real conversation with Evelyn in four straight days.
Those four days, I'd thrown everything into rooting out the traitors in the organization and tracking down Richard's whereabouts.
The situation was a mess. More and more powerful people across New York were getting blackmailed, and we kept catching two-bit hustlers claiming they had the black book.
Sorting through all this garbage intel every day had cut my sleep down to two hours a night.
But something even more irritating was happening. The busier I got, the more she invaded my thoughts.
I'd close my eyes for two minutes in the car, and all I'd see was Evelyn curled up in bed. While Luca briefed me on informant reports, I'd catch myself wondering if she was sitting alone by that guest room window again.
It pissed me off.
That scene between her and Caroline still haunted me. The Evelyn I knew—the girl who'd sat in my study and negotiated with cold precision—should've been smarter than that. More controlled. Better at reading a room.
So I sure as hell didn't want to waste time thinking about why she'd suddenly become so petty. Even when I had to come back to the manor late at night for encrypted files, I deliberately avoided the second floor.
I didn't want to hear another word about Caroline from her mouth. I refused to listen to clumsy excuses covering up childish behavior.
I didn't have the time. I didn't have the patience.
The Brooklyn raid was another dead end. Luca, that idiot, had lost our most important lead. I drove back to the manor covered in someone else's blood, reeking of mold from that abandoned apartment.
I was planning to pour myself a whiskey with ice and crash on the study couch for ten minutes. Going upstairs to bed wasn't an option.
I tossed my cold jacket onto the desk and turned toward the couch. That's when I saw her.
Evelyn was curled up on my leather sofa, covered only by a thin wool blanket. Her brow was furrowed, clearly not sleeping well, her whole body tucked into an anxious ball with even her ankles hidden under the blanket's edge.
In the dim study light, I could see immediately how much weight she'd lost. Her face was noticeably thinner than four days ago.
Damn it. The moment I saw her, something I'd forced shut inside me came loose.
I sighed quietly, grabbed the jacket I'd just thrown down, and walked over to drape it gently over her.
Evelyn shivered in her sleep and instinctively burrowed into the jacket that still held my warmth.
So she'd been waiting here since dinner? The past few days, I'd been avoiding the second floor, so tonight she'd just camped out in the first-floor study. She knew I'd come here if I came home at all.
I bent down, about to carry her upstairs.
A hand shot out from under the blanket and grabbed my wrist.
Evelyn's eyes snapped open. She sat up so fast I wondered if she'd been awake the whole time.
"Finally caught you, Victor." Evelyn looked up at me, voice still drowsy but fingers locked tight around my wrist. "I need to talk to you today. You're not getting away from me again."
Looking at that stubborn face, the brief tenderness I'd felt vanished under a wave of irritation. I cut her off.
"Are you going to tell me again that Caroline's framing you?" My voice was flat. "That she staged the whole thing? Smashed the photo herself? Knocked over the flower stand herself? Maybe even slapped herself in the face just to frame you?"
Evelyn froze. Then she looked me straight in the eye and nodded hard.
"Yes. That's exactly what happened." Her voice was firm. "Except for the slap, I didn't do anything else."
I yanked my wrist back and stepped away, putting physical distance between us.
Christ. Give me a break.
I hated nothing more than obvious, full-of-holes lies. I'd seen too many people try this in the family's interrogation rooms, watched too many spin stories with their dying breaths trying to save themselves.
I thought Evelyn was different. I thought she was smart enough to understand that even if she'd pushed Caroline in a moment of jealousy, I wouldn't really do anything to her. I could make those maids change their stories. Pretend nothing happened.
Why did she insist on this pointless defense? Why couldn't she just leave alone a pathetic mother who couldn't even protect her own son?
"Four maids were there." I laid out the irrefutable facts. "They all saw what happened. Evelyn. Even if I wanted to blindly believe you, all the evidence and witnesses point at you. What am I supposed to do? How do I silence everyone?"
Evelyn stared at me, then suddenly gave me a bitter smile. She let go completely and sank back against the couch.
"I know." Her voice was soft. "It makes sense that you believe her. You've lived together all these years. You have a child together. I shouldn't have had such naive expectations. I'm used to being called a liar."
Seeing that miserable smile, I felt a sharp, almost suffocating pain. Without thinking, I bent down and pulled her thin body into my arms.
She was alarmingly thin.
Through that flimsy nightgown, I could feel every ridge of her spine, the sharp outline of her collarbones. Her shoulder blades dug painfully into my arms.
"Shut up," I ordered quietly. "I won't let you talk about yourself like that."
Evelyn said nothing in my arms.
"Even if you did push Caroline, I don't give a damn." I held her tighter. "All I care about is that you're in terrible shape. How much weight have you lost, Evelyn? Have you been eating at all?"
I almost said it. Almost told her I loved her even if she lied to me.
But in that moment, Evelyn struggled weakly in my arms.
She made a sound I'd never heard from her before—weak and pained.
"Let go, Victor." Her voice was barely a rasp, pushing at my chest. "Let go. I can't breathe."
I released her immediately.
I jerked back like I'd been burned, staring at her bloodless face.
Evelyn was white as paper, lips pressed into a colorless line. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her chest heaving like she really couldn't get air.
"Evelyn, what's wrong?" My voice was tight. "Why do you look like this? Should I call the doctor?"
Evelyn didn't answer right away. She just reached out and gently took my hand.
Then she smiled at me.
"Yes, Victor," she said softly. "This is what I really needed to tell you."
I frowned, feeling a premonition I'd never had before, something crawling up my spine to the back of my neck.
I held my breath, waiting.
The heavy study door suddenly slammed open.
Luca—who'd gotten comfortable enough to skip basic courtesy like knocking—burst in with cold air and a tense expression.
"Boss," Luca shouted.
Then his eyes swept the study, taking in me holding Evelyn's hand, and he froze.
Evelyn jerked her hand away like she'd been shocked and retreated to the corner of the couch.
I whipped around, pinning Luca with a look that told him he'd better have a damn good reason for interrupting. Otherwise, he wouldn't walk out of this room on his own two feet.
But Luca looked like he really did have urgent news. He strode forward despite my glare, his expression grim.
"Boss." His voice was rushed and tight. "I have to report immediately. The situation's out of control."
I shut down all personal feelings instantly.
I glanced at Evelyn still sitting on the couch. She was looking at me with those huge, wet eyes. Her lips were parted, whatever important thing she'd been about to say still unspoken.
I forced down the urge to question her and led Luca out of the study.
"Talk," I said coldly.
Luca swallowed hard and lowered his voice.
"Our contact at the Brooklyn docks just sent word." Luca met my eyes. "They've confirmed Richard's body. Photos should be on your computer already."
Goddammit. Goddammit. Goddammit.
I didn't waste words. I pulled up my phone, and sure enough, there were several high-resolution crime scene photos just uploaded.
A broken body stuffed carelessly between shipping containers. The victim had clearly been tortured for days. His body was covered in cuts and burns from various instruments. Though the face was too damaged to recognize easily, from what I remembered of his build—
This really did look like Richard.
My heart sank. I couldn't show Evelyn these photos. It would destroy her.
And I couldn't stay at the manor any longer. The killer and the mole inside these walls were making their final moves. I had to go handle this now.
I pushed the study door open.
"Victor?"
Evelyn sat on the couch wearing my jacket. She looked at me with expectation and weakness in her eyes. Still waiting for me to come hold her, to ask about her condition.
Or maybe waiting for me to tell her about her father.
But I couldn't. Not now. She looked terrible—physically and mentally. Given the emergency at hand, I had no choice.
I swallowed the pain. "We'll talk later."