246. “You’re absolutely insane.”

246. “You’re absolutely insane.”
“Is that what he told you?!” Evelyn looked like a hyena. I can’t tell if she’s actually enjoying my words or if she’s lost all sense of her own emotions. “That I was only that? A deal? A convenience? Then why did he lose himself between my legs, Charlotte? Why did he run to me when he couldn’t stand you, hmm? Why did he come to me, like a dying man in a desert?”

The madness in Evelyn’s eyes—the way she grips the knife and waves it at us like it’s just a pen—sends a chill down my spine.

The woman standing in front of me isn’t the Evelyn I knew. She isn’t the Earl’s mistress who spent her days burning money and living off the Houghton influence. She isn’t the vain woman who flaunted the difference between our stations. And she definitely doesn’t look like someone who spent ten years poisoning me, day after day, with the cold patience of an assassin.

What I see now is madness. Pure, deep madness. A woman completely lost in her own illusion, her lucidity gone, running only on hatred and instinct.

I can see it. I can feel it.

It’s different from Lazarus’s intent, which was methodical, cold—impersonal. He didn’t hate me. He didn’t even know me. To him, I was just a target, another heartbeat to stop. Maybe not even a person in his eyes.

“Ms. Bennet, drop the knife! We don’t want to hurt you!” the officer insists, his patience thinning with every second Evelyn keeps the blade pointed at me, now gripping it with both hands.

“You may have turned his head, Charlotte.” Evelyn lifts her chin, proud, eyes gleaming with unshakable certainty, ignoring the officer. “But in the end, he’ll come back to me.”

She actually believes what she’s saying, doesn’t she?

“You think he’ll keep defending you when he finds out what you’re doing? When he learns you and Sebastian conspired to leak Marshall Houghton’s confidential information to the press? That you set fire to my apartment—and when you couldn’t kill me, you tried to frame me instead?”

“Oh, is that what you’re trying to do now?” I cross my arms, the chill running even stronger down my spine. Sweat trickles down my neck, but I don’t dare wipe it away; I know any sudden move, she’ll read as weakness. “Trying to save face by blaming me?”

“You’ve always tried to get rid of me, Charlotte… But bringing the police after me for your crimes? That’s low.”

“You’re insane,” I spit the words, my nails digging into my arms discreetly. “You’re absolutely insane.”

“Insane?” she repeats, the word dripping from her mouth like venom. Evelyn takes a step forward, the blade glinting under the cold corridor light. “Yes, Charlotte, I’m insane! But whose fault do you think that is?”

With every step she takes, the officer moves too, gun raised, eyes darting between my face and hers. “I said drop the knife!” he growls, but Evelyn doesn’t hear. Or she doesn’t care.

“You want to paint me as the villain, make me into a monster, but you never looked in the mirror, did you?!” Her voice rises, cracking at the end. “You always had everything… the name, the title, the money, Christopher…” Her fist trembles, the knife still firm, her eyes blazing with rage and despair.

My heart beats off-rhythm in my chest. I feel each pulse in my fingers, my temples, my stomach. But I can’t back down. I can’t show I’m cornered.

“All of it should’ve been mine!” she screams, now at the top of her lungs, startling even the officer who nearly squeezed the trigger, tense from her refusal to lower the knife.

“And what’s your brilliant plan?” My voice comes out lower, rough, but steady. “You think if you kill me, everything goes back to how it was? You think Christopher will come back to you? That he’ll look at you with the same fascination? You think anyone, after this, will see anything but a murderer?”

Her lips tremble.

For an instant, something flickers in Evelyn’s eyes—hesitation, weariness maybe—but it vanishes as fast as it came.

“Shut up.” She growls, loaded with so much hate it makes me shudder. She lifts the knife higher. “When you’re gone, Charlotte, there won’t be anything in my way. Christopher will understand this was all a mistake. He’ll thank me for removing you.”

Her tone isn’t just rage now—it’s a feverish, sick conviction. The last tremor of her voice is gone, replaced by a determination that chills me to the bone.

“After all, this is what he’s always wanted. He’s always wanted you gone. Don’t you get it? I’m doing this for him! Because you’re a stone in his path! You’re an inconvenience, Charlotte! A fucking inconvenience! He hates you—he hates you so much the idea of staying married to you haunted him. And still you didn’t have the decency to leave, to give up. You forced him. You forced me to act!”

She takes a step toward me and Sebastian moves instantly, his arm shooting out in front of me, making himself my shield. The officer shouts again, finger trembling on the trigger, “Drop the knife, Ms. Bennet. Now!”

Evelyn stops suddenly, staring at us with eyes so wide they look like they’re about to pop. Her pupils, black and dilated, swallow almost all the blue of her irises, like nothing in this world can reach her. Her breathing comes in short spasms, broken. She tries to fill her lungs, but only draws in more despair.

“You want everything, don’t you?” she laughs inwardly, low and warped, malice twisting my gut colder. “The Houghton brothers. Maybe the cousins too? Did you sit on Grandpa’s lap too, Charlotte? He was obsessed with a woman just like you, wasn’t he? Tell me—did he ever stick that old cock in you?”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Sebastian snarls, gripping my shoulder harder without even realizing it. His fury radiates off him, his breath ragged like hers. “If you say one more word, I swear to God, I’ll kill you!”

“Sebastian!” I clutch his arm tightly, trying to anchor him here, to drain the rage flooding his veins. But I can feel his muscles contract, almost to the point of snapping. It’s not just anger—it’s a deep, barely contained hatred.

“The Houghtons’ whore!” Evelyn cackles, malicious. “You screwed the whole family!”

“Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.” He repeats, each word slow, sharp, trembling. He takes a step toward her but I grip his arm even harder, holding him back, making sure he doesn’t give in, doesn’t move closer.

“DROP THE KNIFE NOW!” It’s the officer’s final warning. His voice cracks through the air like thunder, and Evelyn feels it. Her laughter stops instantly, like it was never there.

In one calm, calculated movement, she extends her arm out and pinches the knife by its tip, the blade pointing down—a dramatic gesture that looks like her surrender. She starts laughing again, but this time only deep in her throat, lips sealed, twisted in an insane smile.

“You really think you’ve won, Charlotte?” Evelyn stares at me as if the world has shrunk to just the two of us. “You really think this is the end? This is victory?”

I grit my teeth, staring at the woman who—even surrounded by police, even unrecognizable—still clings to her delusional arrogance. Her eyes still gleam with victory.

“You’re a parasite in a red dress. You hide behind men. Behind brothers. Behind lies. You don’t win. You don’t get to walk away from me like you’re untouchable. I will rot in your mind until the day you die. When you close your eyes, you’ll hear me. When you smile for the cameras, you’ll taste my name in your mouth like blood. You’ll never be clean of me.”

Her smile widens, a mask stretched too tight, and tilts her head.

“Do you feel that? That’s me under your skin. That’s me in your life. No matter where you run, no matter who you fuck, you will never be free of me.”

She leans forward a little, eyes locked on mine.

“You took everything from me, Charlotte. And now I’m going to take everything from you — piece by piece. Not tonight. Not here. But one day. One day, when you’re sure you’re safe. When you’ve forgotten my face. That’s when you’ll find me. And maybe you’re right… Maybe I won’t have Christopher after all this.”

She slides her other hand along her waist, swinging the knife handle lightly.

“But you know what, darling?”

Evelyn smiles, triumphant—and then lets go, the knife clattering to the floor with a loud, metallic clang that scrapes my ears.

My eyes widen.

“…Neither will you.”

The police relax their shoulders, their stance faltering, guns lowering slightly, distracted by the knife, eager to seize it before Evelyn changes her mind.

But they don’t notice her hand going to her waistband.

They don’t see the gun sliding free from the back of her pants.

They don’t realize until the revolver is already pointed at me.

They can’t stop it.

Evelyn’s finger is already on the trigger—

BANG!