Chapter 10

The moment Evelyn walked out, the atmosphere in Hawthorne Estate turned suffocating.

She had been the one insisting on the engagement with Ethan, and now, without warning, she was ending it.

The family exchanged bewildered glances, stunned by the abrupt shift. No one could comprehend how Evelyn, usually so compliant, had walked away without so much as a backward glance at Ethan.

Breaking the tense silence, Vanessa attempted to soothe her parents. "Mom, Dad, please don’t be angry. Evelyn’s been through so much in prison. She’s not herself right now. She’s overwhelmed—"

"Overwhelmed? She’s twenty-four!" Richard roared, slamming his palm against the table.

"She’s old enough to understand consequences! Does she think she can just throw away an engagement on a whim? What will society say? That there’s something going on between you and Ethan?"

"Utterly thoughtless!"

Vanessa lowered her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. "If it makes Evelyn happy, I’ll bear the rumors. I don’t care what people say."

Margaret’s heart ached, and she squeezed her daughter’s shoulder gently. "But your reputation matters. If you marry Ethan now, what will—"

Vanessa pressed her lips together, fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

She stole a glance at Ethan, who lounged on the sofa, a cigarette dangling carelessly between his fingers. The smoke curled around him, obscuring his expression, but she didn’t need to see his face to know something was wrong.

The air between them felt charged, dangerous.

Before she could speak, Ethan crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and stood abruptly.

"I'm done here."

Richard and Margaret exchanged alarmed looks before subtly nodding at Vanessa.

She swallowed hard and rushed after him. "It's pouring outside. At least let me get you an umbrella."

The moment the door closed behind them, Richard's voice cracked with worry. "Do you think he'll break off the engagement? Did you see the way he stormed out?"

The Caldwells were one of the most powerful families in Cresthaven. Countless people would sell their souls for a chance to be tied to them.

And Ethan wasn’t just any Caldwell—he was the heir.

Public humiliation? That wasn’t something a man like him would tolerate.

Margaret sighed. "Evelyn has always been stubborn. But she's always come to her senses eventually."

She patted Richard's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry. Young lovers quarrel and reconcile. She'll realize she was wrong and apologize to Ethan soon enough."

Richard considered this and nodded.

Over the years, they had all witnessed the depth of Evelyn's feelings for Ethan.

Even during her time in prison, she had written to him religiously every week.

They had shared a childhood and seven years of memories. Emotions that strong don’t just vanish in an instant.

So, Richard and Margaret convinced themselves this was just a temporary outburst—anger clouding her judgment.

Vanessa walked Ethan to the door, her fingers gently adjusting his tie.

Midway through, her eyes welled up as a painful realization struck her.

"It's all my fault," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I told Evelyn I wouldn’t stand in her way, but she still doesn’t believe me. Why does she keep making things difficult?"

Her voice trembled. "She’s always been so spoiled, so reckless. And now she’s humiliated you in front of everyone—"

Ethan caught her wrist, his expression darkening. "Vanessa, stop."

She flinched at the warning in his tone.

He exhaled sharply, releasing her. "This isn’t about you. Evelyn’s problem is with me."

Vanessa bit her lip, fresh tears threatening to fall.

But before she could respond, the doorbell rang.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood on the doorstep, his sharp features eerily familiar.

Ethan stiffened. "Uncle Harold?"

The older man smirked, his gaze sweeping over them with cold amusement.

"Well, well. Looks like I’ve arrived just in time for the drama."

Vanessa’s breath hitched.

Harold Aniston wasn’t just Ethan’s uncle.

He was the man who had orchestrated Alexander Whitmore’s downfall five years ago.

And from the gleam in his eyes, he wasn’t here for a family reunion.

The weight of guilt pressed heavily on Vanessa’s shoulders. "This is all my fault," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Everyone’s suffering because of me."

Ethan’s heart ached at the sight of her distress. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a silk handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he dabbed at her tear-streaked cheeks. "Don’t waste your tears on her," he murmured. "She doesn’t deserve them."

Vanessa bit her lip, her eyes darting around nervously. "We shouldn’t—what if someone sees us together like this?"

Her vulnerability only made her more endearing to him. "Ethan," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve told you before—just being able to watch you from afar is enough for me. Someone like me… I don’t belong by your side."

The memory of Evelyn’s cold, cutting words flashed through Ethan’s mind. In contrast, Vanessa’s softness was like a balm to his frayed nerves. His fingers twitched toward his cigarette case, craving the familiar comfort.

But reality crashed down on him. The Whitmores were a family of stature and reputation. They would never accept a woman with a shadowed past like Vanessa’s.

Overcome with emotion, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "Vanessa," he vowed, "I promise I won’t let your suffering be in vain."

A sudden movement caught his eye. His blood ran cold when he recognized the sleek black sedan parked discreetly nearby.

Instinctively, Ethan stepped back from Vanessa, putting distance between them. His pulse pounded in his ears as the car door opened.

Standing there, with an unreadable expression, was his uncle—Alexander Whitmore.