Chapter 120: Softened for Her
Evelyn's quiet but firm refusal was an invisible slap across Damian’s face. His hand, still holding the necklace box, hung awkwardly in the air. The panic in his eyes was fleeting, quickly replaced by anger at being rejected.
“Evelyn, what nonsense are you talking about?” Damian warned. “I’ve made the biggest concession. How long are you going to keep making a scene over your pathetic pride? Don’t be ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful?” Evelyn scoffed, about to tear his false facade to shreds.
Just then, Damian’s cell phone in his suit pocket began to vibrate furiously, breaking the tense standoff. He impatiently reached to hang up, but his movement stopped abruptly when he saw the name on the screen. The moment he answered, Sienna’s frantic, heart-wrenching sobs echoed in the noisy corner of the venue.
“Damian… I can’t live anymore! Everyone is insulting me, laughing at me… I want to see you one last time, and then I’m jumping off! Waaah…” The voice was desperate, shrill, and bordering on hysteria.
Damian instantly panicked. The image of the "repentant playboy" he was acting out for Evelyn completely collapsed. “Sienna! Where are you? Don’t do anything rash!” The hysterical crying and sound of wind continued on the other end.
Damian completely lost his footing. He didn't even bother to close the valuable necklace box; he simply shoved it into his pocket and spun around to rush out. After two steps, he seemed to remember his wife was still standing behind him. He stopped, turned back, and offered a hurried, dismissive explanation: “Evelyn, you heard that. Sienna is extremely unstable and threatening suicide. Regardless, it’s a human life, and I have to check on her. If something happens, Omni Group will be implicated too. You go home first. I’ll be back to you as soon as I handle things there.”
With that, he didn't wait for Evelyn's response but stumbled toward the exit.
Evelyn stood still, watching the man who had just sworn he wanted to “celebrate like before,” abandon her instantly for another woman’s phone call. In her eyes, there was none of the anger or sadness Damian expected, only contempt for his pathetic performance. As Damian's figure completely vanished through the revolving doors, Evelyn felt the last trace of attachment, the last bit of reluctance tied to him, finally snap. She took a deep breath, turning to leave the suffocating venue.
The moment she turned, a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped around her waist from behind. It was an extremely possessive, yet protective embrace. Evelyn's body immediately tensed, and she instinctively tried to struggle, but her back pressed against a broad, warm chest. The arms held her tightly, yet with a careful restraint, lacking the usual flirtatiousness and mockery.
The familiar scent of cedar mixed with a faint tobacco smell aggressively invaded her senses, instantly driving away the repulsive cologne Damian had left behind.
“Sweetheart, no need to rush off.”
“Now that the blind jerk is gone, our real celebration can begin.”
Evelyn's rigid spine slowly relaxed. She could even feel the vibration of Ryan’s chest as he spoke; that real, scorching warmth seeped through her clothes onto her skin, somehow warming her broken heart. The word No was already on her tongue, but it got stuck.
Ryan didn't maintain the intimate embrace for long. Sensing her relaxation, he let go. He walked around to face her, his eyes downcast, concealing their usual playful glint. Ryan naturally raised his hand, his fingertip pausing almost imperceptibly in the air before gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. The gesture was intimate, as if they had done this countless nights, yet it was sincere.
“A true celebration should, of course, include the people who understand you.” Ryan looked into her eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as he slowly recited the guest list. “Sophie and Ethan have already popped champagne in the hotel suite. Professor Victoria Hayes specifically canceled her design team workshop and is on her way. And…”
He paused, watching Evelyn’s expression. “Dean Worth is also waiting in the hotel lounge. She said she wants to see her proud girl holding the trophy, no matter how late it is. As for Ayla, she had to deal with a PR crisis, but she sent her gift.”
Evelyn looked up sharply, her pupils trembling slightly. The usual Ryan would celebrate by renting out an entire penthouse bar, stacking a party with deafening music and expensive alcohol. But now, for her sake, this man had patiently contacted the stern, traditional Professor Hayes and arranged for the frail Dean Worth. He had reined in his inherent recklessness, awkwardly learning how to give her the respect and company she truly needed.
Sophie, Ethan, the professor, and even Dean Worth… These were the most important people in her life, the few remaining sources of warmth she had in New York. Ryan hadn't just helped her win the competition; he had carefully gathered all these scattered pieces of warmth and presented them to her.
An indescribable mix of sadness and emotion surged through her, and her eyes welled up. Yet, she was afraid of something so beautiful. Damian had given her countless surprises too, which eventually became the sharpest blades to wound her. And the name Ryan Lawrence itself represented danger and uncertainty.
“Ryan…” Evelyn said. “This kind of event isn’t necessary, truly. I… I don’t want to drag everyone into this.”
Ryan didn't get angry or forceful. He simply reached out and took the hand that hung by her side. His palm was large and dry, his fingers bearing the slight calluses from years of holding a pen, gently stroking the minor scrapes on her palm from working on her designs.
“Look at me, Evelyn.” Ryan’s tone was tender, all his cynicism gone. “This is not some meaningless ceremony.”
“This is an acknowledgment of your talent from everyone. It’s your loved ones telling you that you deserve to be celebrated, and you deserve all the good things life can offer.” He tightened his grip slightly, enclosing her hand in his. “You are never alone. Maybe you were before, but never again.”
Just then, Evelyn's phone vibrated in her clutch. She automatically took it out. It was a message from Sophie. The screen showed a photo: Dean Worth sat in a chair in the suite, smiling kindly. Professor Hayes looked stern as usual, but she was holding a party popper, a sight that was both funny and heartwarming. Ethan was pouring juice, and Sophie was making a silly face at the camera. Below the photo was a caption:
[Waiting for you, our star designer!]
Looking at the familiar faces in the picture, then raising her head to meet Ryan's eyes, which were full of sincerity and expectation, Evelyn felt the missing piece of her heart slowly being filled. The thought of refusing completely vanished. Why should she deny herself warmth for the sake of a jerk? Why should she push away the man who was willing to soften for her out of fear?
Evelyn took a deep breath, flipped her hand to clasp Ryan’s, squeezing tightly. She nodded softly. “Okay. I’ll go.”