Chapter 9

The ultrasound showed only one gestational sac.

Evelyn couldn’t believe it. Just a week ago, the doctors had confirmed twins.

Now, she sat on a cold bench in the hospital corridor, clutching the scan in her trembling hands.

The doctor had explained it was rare—vanishing twin syndrome. One had simply… disappeared.

If she terminated now, she might never carry twins again.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Of course, this was the doing of the Blackwoods’ private physicians.

When they’d implanted the embryos, they hadn’t mentioned twins.

To them, she was just a vessel. A means to an heir.

The bleeding last week had terrified her. She’d thought it was her period. The Blackwoods’ doctors had assumed the procedure failed.

And when Dominic coldly declared he’d divorce her upon waking, they’d abandoned her completely.

Now, the choice was hers alone.

Her phone buzzed in her purse. She’d been sitting here for over an hour.

She pulled it out, stood, and headed for the exit.

“Evelyn! Your father—he’s dying! Come home now!”

Her mother’s voice was raw with panic.

Evelyn froze.

Dying? How?

She knew her father had been hospitalized after Thornfield Industries collapsed. He’d missed her wedding.

But this…? Her mind reeled.

Their relationship had been strained since his affair. Yet, the news still felt like a knife to the chest.

———

The Thorne house was in chaos when she arrived.

Clara led her straight to the master bedroom.

Richard lay motionless, his breathing shallow. When he saw Evelyn, his hand twitched toward her.

“Dad, why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Evelyn grasped his icy fingers. Tears blurred her vision.

“Easy for you to say!” Margaret snapped. “With what money?”

Evelyn’s head jerked up. “The Blackwoods paid you a fortune! Why not use that?”

Margaret’s lips curled. “Debts, Evelyn. Your father owed millions. Don’t look at me like I stole from you. Besides, his illness is terminal. Death is a mercy.”

With that, she stormed out.

Evelyn stayed.

Flawed as he was, Richard was still her father. The man who’d once carried her on his shoulders.

“Don’t blame her, Dad. Money’s tight,” Evelyn whispered, tears falling. “Just… hold on, please.”

Richard didn’t respond.

Instead, his tear-filled eyes locked onto hers. His lips trembled. “Evelyn… my girl… I failed you… failed your mother… Next life… I’ll make it right…”

His hand went limp.

A scream tore through the house.

Evelyn’s world shattered.

———

The funeral was a bleak, rain-soaked affair.

Few attended—the Thornes had fallen far.

After the service, Margaret left with the guests.

Soon, only Evelyn and Clara remained, standing before the grave beneath weeping skies.

“Did you hate him, Mom?” Evelyn asked, staring at the headstone.

Clara’s voice was hollow. “Yes. Even now, I can’t forgive him.”

“Then why cry?”

“Because I loved him too.” Clara sighed. “Love and hate aren’t opposites, Evelyn. They’re twins.”

———

That night, Evelyn dragged herself back to Dominic’s mansion.

Three days had passed since her father’s death. Three days without contact from the Blackwoods.

She hadn’t told them.

What was the point? Her marriage was a glacier.

As she stepped into the courtyard, laughter spilled from the lit windows. A party was in full swing.

Guests in glittering attire clinked glasses in the grand hall.

“Madam!” Mrs. Wilkins hurried over, then faltered at Evelyn’s hollow expression.

“You’re soaked. Come inside.”

Evelyn’s black trench coat clung to her, revealing pale legs and damp leather flats.

She changed into plush slippers, then scanned the room.

The guests stared—some curious, others disdainful.

Dominic lounged at the center, a cigarette between his fingers, wreathed in smoke.

And beside him—

A stunning woman in a white dress, her curves pressed against him, sharing his cigarette.

Their intimacy was unmistakable.

The woman noticed Evelyn’s gaze and smirked. “You must be Evelyn Thorne. Dominic’s… wife.” She emphasized the word like a joke. “Rosalie had good taste. You’re pretty. Just… small.” Her eyes raked over Evelyn’s frame. “In all the wrong places.”

Evelyn’s lips thinned. “You’re perfect. When’s the wedding?”

The woman’s smile vanished. “You little— Do you know who I am? If I slapped you right now, Dominic wouldn’t even care!”

Her hand rose—

CRASH.

Evelyn smashed a champagne bottle against the table.

Shards flew. Liquid pooled like blood.

She pointed the jagged edge at the woman, eyes blazing. “Try it. I dare you.”

The room froze.

This wasn’t the meek Evelyn they’d heard about.

Through the haze of smoke, Dominic’s gaze burned into her—equal parts fury and fascination.