Chapter 3: The Countdown
Professor Hayes’ words still echoed in Evelyn’s mind.
One week.
The Nova Group.
She didn’t know how long she stood there until her legs were numb and her phone screen had completely faded to black.
Evelyn took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
She relit the screen, her fingertip sliding across the display as she typed “Nova Group” into the search bar.
The screen was instantly flooded with information, from the corporation’s official website to stock market data and the latest updates from its major brands.
Evelyn quickly scanned the official data, then shifted her search to the “Asia-Pacific President” whom even Professor Hayes had specifically mentioned.
However, the results that popped up shocked her.
There were no formal financial interviews, no elite image of a business titan. The entire page was dominated by the glaring headlines of various tabloids and gossip columns.
“Nova Group Asia-Pacific President Parties Hard, Spends the Night with Multiple Strippers!”
“Busted! Nova Group Asia-Pacific President Sex Tape Scandal—PR Team Rushes to Damage Control!”
The accompanying images were repulsive. Although the face of the central figure was heavily pixelated, the tall silhouette, surrounded by a crowd of scantily clad women, still reeked of a decadent, 'wine, women, and song' lifestyle.
The man in the photo had an arm around a woman on each side, his posture suggestive and flippant. The background was a scene of lavish partying.
So this was the true face of the man who wielded power behind the so-called global top-tier fashion empire—filthy and contemptible.
It instantly brought back the memory of Damian’s hypocrisy and betrayal. It seemed these men, standing at the apex of the pyramid, were all cut from the same cloth.
Evelyn switched off her phone, the last bit of confusion in her eyes finally dispelled.
The first thing Evelyn did after pulling herself together was to walk to the calendar hanging on the living room wall.
She picked up a red marker, the tip hovering over the paper.
She skipped over the dates marked as Damian’s "important appointments" and ignored the anniversary dates she had once carefully circled—dates that now seemed utterly ridiculous.
Evelyn's gaze settled on a day three months from now.
Ninety days.
Her abdomen was still flat, but in ninety days, everything would be impossible to hide. This was the final, most urgent deadline her body had given her.
Evelyn had to leave this cage with her child before then.
The next morning, Damian was uncharacteristically home.
He was fully dressed and ready to leave, a hint of impatience on his face as his gaze inadvertently swept over the wall calendar.
“What is this now?”
He frowned, pointing at the glaring red circle, his tone laced with exhaustion and disdain. “Evelyn, can you stop with this useless nonsense? Which damn anniversary is it this time? I don’t have the energy for your boring 'playing house' games.”
“It's not an anniversary,”
“Then what is it?” he pressed, his impatience evident.
“A little reminder,” she said softly. “A reminder to resolve a small problem.”
He paused, clearly not grasping Evelyn’s meaning, or perhaps, he simply disdained to try.
“Suit yourself. Just stop bothering me with these insignificant little things,” he sneered, reaching up to adjust his expensive tie.
“The company is in a critical phase before listing. I’m very busy lately. Don’t go out, stay home, and don’t cause trouble for me.”
With that, he walked out without looking back.
The door slammed shut with a bang. Evelyn looked at the red circle, her heart undisturbed.
Through the window, she watched his car disappear at the end of the driveway. Only then did Evelyn walk to the ornate wrought-iron front gate.
The moment her hand touched the cold handle, a figure in a maid’s uniform silently appeared before her. She gave a slight bow, her manner respectful, but her words entirely devoid of warmth.
“Madam, the Master instructed that you are not feeling well recently and need to rest at home. You are not to go out.”
Evelyn looked at her, a completely unfamiliar face.
Damian had replaced everyone familiar around her.
“I just want to go for a walk.”
“The gardens on the estate are sufficient for your strolls, Madam.” The maid kept her head down, but her body was like a wall, completely blocking Evelyn's path.
Evelyn understood.
This wasn’t rest; it was house arrest.
She didn't argue or get angry. Evelyn merely stared at the maid for a moment, then turned around and walked step by step back to the living room sofa.
“All right,” Evelyn leaned back on the sofa. “Since I can’t go out, could you please bring me some paper and a pencil? Any paper will do, a sketchbook is best, but regular paper is also acceptable.”
The maid seemed surprised by her flat reaction, pausing before nodding. “Yes, Madam. I will go look right away.”
A few minutes later, the maid returned with a thin notebook and an ordinary pencil.
The paper was coarse and yellowing, and the pencil was crudely made, like cheap stock that had been sitting in a warehouse for a long time.
Evelyn took the paper and pencil and thanked her.
The maid looked as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing and withdrew.
Evelyn opened the notebook. The poor-quality paper gave off a faint sour smell. The pencil tip scraped across the rough surface, making a soft shhh sound.
And so, she spent day after day drawing. On the living room sofa, on the coffee table.
Sketches piled up, stack after stack, each one bearing the weight of her longing to escape.
Late that night, as Evelyn was absorbed in revising a design draft when the sound of a key turning suddenly came from the entrance, followed by the messy, mingled footsteps of high heels and dress shoes.
She looked up and saw the scene she least wanted to witness.
Sienna was practically propping up a heavily intoxicated Damian as they stumbled in.
She wore a tight red dress that accentuated her figure, her makeup was perfect, and she exuded the air of a victor.
“Oh dear, Evelyn, you’re still awake?”
Seeing Evelyn, she spoke with a feigned surprise. “Damian got drunk at a business dinner and insisted I bring him home. I just couldn't say no.”
As she spoke, she deliberately leaned Damian against her, their posture as intimate as a real couple.
Damian mumbled something incoherent, completely plastered.
Evelyn didn’t speak, merely watched her performance with cold detachment.
Sienna laboriously helped Damian onto the sofa, then straightened up, casually running a hand through her hair, a gesture that revealed the sparkling diamond necklace on her neck.
It was the ‘Tear of the Star,’ a pricey piece Evelyn had seen in a jewelry magazine last month.
She had once joked to Damian that wearing it was like hanging the galaxy around her neck.