Evelyn had just taken off her heels when the doorbell rang.
She frowned. No one was supposed to know she'd returned to her penthouse.
The buzzer rang again—longer this time.
She walked to the intercom and pressed the button. "Yes?"
A familiar voice crackled through.
"Open the door, Evelyn."
Her stomach sank.
Noah.
⸻
She considered ignoring him.
But something in his voice… raw, tight, on edge… made her fingers move.
The lock clicked open.
Seconds later, he burst in—rain clinging to his coat, hair disheveled, eyes wild.
"You really did it," he said.
She folded her arms. "Did what?"
"That press stunt," he hissed. "Parading around with Adrian like you're his—his—"
"My what?" she asked coolly. "Fiancée? Lover? Business partner? Take your pick."
"Don't play games with me, Evelyn."
"Then stop acting like you still own me."
Her voice was ice.
⸻
Noah took a step closer.
"I don't care about the cameras. I don't care about Adrian. But you're mine."
Evelyn's laugh was low and bitter.
"I was yours. You let go."
"I made a mistake—"
"Too late."
⸻
For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Then he whispered, "Did you ever love him?"
"Adrian?"
She walked to the window, city lights reflected in her eyes.
"No. But he respects me. He doesn't try to break me."
Noah looked like he'd been punched.
⸻
He turned without a word and left.
Evelyn stood still, breathing hard.
Outside, the storm raged.
Inside, her heart burned—with anger, with pain… and something else she refused to name.