Chapter 25
Tabitha's wrinkled face twisted in disgust as she studied Evelyn's impassive expression.
"Just as I expected from a husband-stealer," she thought bitterly. "Ice runs through her veins. Her own flesh and blood is being humiliated, yet she doesn't even blink!"
Sophia Montgomery clenched her fists until her manicured nails dug into her palms. She should've saved that insult for this wretched girl instead!
The subway had just left East Gate station when Tabitha finally exploded. "Have you no shame, girl?" she spat.
Evelyn met the older woman's glare evenly.
Shame? For what?
She was morbidly curious what venom this unscrupulous hag would spew next.
"You tried stealing my seat earlier!" Tabitha accused, jabbing a bony finger. "At my age, I can barely stand! Yet you young things—too lazy to earn proper cars—come crowding public transport to rob elders of their rightful places!"
She puffed up like a proud peacock. "Thank heavens my son owns three luxury cars!"
Sophia straightened at that, barely concealing her smirk as she anticipated Evelyn's humiliation.
Other young commuters shifted uncomfortably. Many chose the subway for convenience, not poverty. But since the attack wasn't directed at them, they watched the drama unfold.
"I recently returned from studying abroad," Evelyn replied calmly. "My family isn't wealthy, so I worked multiple jobs to save money. I gave it all to my parents to buy a car—because filial children don't let their elders fight for subway seats."
Tabitha's face turned purple with rage.
The carriage erupted in laughter—this time at the old woman's expense. Would she now accuse her own son of being unfilial?
At the next stop, Tabitha shoved through the crowd and stormed off, unable to bear the mocking stares.
Sophia continued shadowing Evelyn.
Evelyn didn't head straight home. She wandered downtown, occasionally pausing to admire the architectural marvels.
She dreamed of one day designing a building that held real meaning.
After half an hour under the blistering sun, Sophia gave up. She shot Evelyn one last incredulous look—how could this woman stroll leisurely when she'd just lost her fiancé?
And why wasn't her flawless skin burning like everyone else's?
Hailing a cab, Sophia slammed the door with unnecessary force.
Evelyn stood transfixed before the city library. She snapped several photos from different angles, planning to study them later.
Only work could quiet her turbulent thoughts.
Back in her apartment, Evelyn dropped her bag and changed into slippers. She spent hours analyzing the architectural photos, working well past midnight.
Nathan Kensington hadn't contacted her all afternoon.
It wasn't until after her shower, when she was finally heading to bed, that her phone buzzed.
Three voice messages from Nathan.
Evelyn stared at the night sky through her window as she played the first one.
"You're the one who wronged me... So why am I drowning my sorrows?" Nathan's drunken voice slurred. "Where's my innocent Evelyn? What have you done with her? Give her back!"
The second message was worse. "I chased you for four years... We've dated for one... Why won't you... let me touch you?"
Evelyn listened to all three, hoping—praying—to hear him say "break up."
He never did.
It seemed she'd have to initiate it herself.
Her phone buzzed again. The new message was nearly incoherent, drowned in bar noise. "Stop pretending to be pure! I bet you're spreading your legs for every man behind my back! What kind of life did you really lead in the UK? You're no better than a—"
Evelyn's pulse spiked. She clenched her teeth and returned to her laptop.
Work. Only work could silence this madness.
But even as exhaustion blurred her vision, the questions persisted.
Why did Nathan trust Sophia over his own fiancée? Why believe some random gossip over the woman he claimed to love?
His faith in her was paper-thin.
The next morning, Evelyn exited the subway and walked toward her office building.
Sebastian Whitmore stepped out of a Bentley nearby, clutching a document folder. He'd been tasked with driving young master Alexander to English lessons when the boss urgently requested these files.
Inside the car, Alexander swung his short legs—then froze.
"Miss Evelyn!" He'd been worrying about her since their last encounter. Now here she was!
The boy tossed his bag aside and leaped from the car.
Evelyn, running on two hours of sleep, barely registered the shadow blocking her path until she looked up.
Nathan Kensington stood before her, bloodshot eyes and disheveled clothes betraying his all-night bender.
"Move," Evelyn said flatly.
"I came to apologize for last night," Nathan said through gritted teeth. "But now you're the one giving me the cold shoulder?"
Evelyn studied him like a stranger.
What twisted delusions made him imagine his fiancée had betrayed him—not once, but countless times?