Chapter 37: Rings and Lies

Chapter 37: Rings and Lies

The days following Sienna’s funeral bled into one another like ink on paper—dark, messy, impossible to separate. The Lockwood mansion had become a hollow shell, the once grand corridors wrapped in silence, thick with grief. Daniel rarely left his study, drowning himself in whiskey and business reports, while Eve floated through the house like a ghost in silk, always present, always watching.
But grief has many faces. Where Daniel staggered under guilt, Eve thrived.
She made herself indispensable—preparing his coffee the way Sienna used to, learning his schedule, answering calls on his behalf, whispering reassurances late at night when nightmares clawed him awake. Slowly, with calculated patience, she carved herself into the empty spaces Sienna once filled.
And Daniel, broken and desperate, let her.
At first, he resisted. He kept his distance, burying himself in work, shutting himself in his office until dawn. Yet Eve knew how to close the gaps. She didn’t push—not directly. Instead, she slipped into the empty spaces Sienna had left behind, one gesture at a time.
When he stared too long at the untouched wine glass on the dining table, Eve leaned forward and whispered, “She wouldn’t want you to waste away like this, Daniel.”
When his voice cracked during a board meeting, Eve’s steady hand touched his sleeve under the polished oak, grounding him.
And when nightmares woke him—visions of dark water swallowing pale skin—Eve was already there. She would come into his room with a quiet urgency, sitting at the edge of his bed, humming softly, stroking his hair until his ragged breaths evened out.
Night by night, she stopped asking if she could stay. She simply stayed.
One evening, as the city glowed beneath them, Daniel sat slumped on the sofa, a glass of whiskey heavy in his hand. The ice had melted, watering down the burn, but he hadn’t noticed. His tie hung loose around his neck, his gaze unfocused on the skyline.
Eve slid onto the seat beside him, wearing silk the color of crimson wine. She tucked her legs beneath her, her movements graceful, deliberate. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. She only let the silence wrap around them, thick with unspoken things.
Then, in a voice barely above a murmur, she said, “You don’t have to carry this alone.”
Daniel turned to her, eyes rimmed red. “I don’t know how to… how to move forward, Eve. Every step feels like betrayal.”
Her lips curved into something soft, sympathetic, though her eyes glinted with something sharper. “It’s not betrayal. It’s survival. She would want you to live, not drown in guilt.”
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” she admitted, her fingers brushing his wrist. “But you don’t have to figure it out alone anymore. Let me… be here. Let me help you breathe again.”
The warmth of her touch bled through him, chasing away the cold edge of whiskey. For the first time since that night by the river, Daniel didn’t feel like he was unraveling. Instead, he felt tethered—to her.
The proposal happened days later, almost unintentionally, yet perfectly calculated.
They had shared dinner in quiet tones, Eve in a silver dress that shimmered beneath candlelight, Daniel in a shirt he hadn’t bothered to button all the way. Afterward, he poured them each a drink, his hand unsteady. The air was thick, not with romance, but with need—his desperate need to feel something good again, her quiet determination to bind him to her completely.
He set his glass down with a shaky thud and stared at her across the room. The words spilled before he could stop them.
“Marry me.”
Eve froze, though only for a heartbeat. Inside, a surge of triumph roared through her chest, but she smothered it quickly. On the outside, she let her eyes well with tears, her voice catching like she could barely process it.
“Daniel…” she whispered, rising to her feet. “Are you sure? After everything—”
“Yes.” His answer came rough, broken. “I can’t… I can’t lose you too. Please. Stay. Marry me.”
Her hands flew to her mouth as though overwhelmed. A single tear streaked down her cheek. “Yes. God, yes.”
He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. His shoulders shook, his sobs muffled against her skin. But Eve’s eyes opened over his shoulder, glittering with victory. She had won. The empire, the man, the future—all hers.
Inside, where no one could hear, a voice purred: I’ve won.
The news of their engagement didn’t spread—not yet. Eve insisted they keep it private, “for healing.” But inside the house, she moved freely now, her place secure.
Lucas, however, remained unconvinced.
He returned to Lockwood penthouse a week after the funeral, claiming he needed to pick up some of Sienna’s personal belongings before the lawyers and estate handlers packed them away. The halls echoed with memories as he walked through them, every polished surface reflecting her absence.
He stopped at her study, letting his fingers trail along the mahogany desk where she once sat scribbling notes, planning meetings, fighting battles no one but her understood. His throat tightened. She was too sharp, too strong, too careful to die like that. Something was wrong.
As he collected a small box of her books and framed photographs, a soft click echoed behind him. He turned.
Eve.
She leaned against the doorway, draped in a cream silk blouse and pearls, her smile delicate but sharp at the edges. “Lucas, you are Sienna’s best friend, right?” she said sweetly, as though speaking to an old acquaintance. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Lucas studied her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Daniel mentioned I could come by. I thought it would be good to… gather some of her things.” His voice dipped. “For memory’s sake.”
Eve stepped into the room, the air changing with her presence. “Of course. Take whatever you need. Sienna was very… sentimental.”
Lucas’ jaw tightened. He didn’t miss the way Eve said her name, as if it were a chapter already closed. His gaze drifted downward—and that’s when he saw it.
Around Eve’s neck, glinting in the soft afternoon light, was a necklace.
Not just any necklace.
A delicate chain with a pendant shaped like a crescent moon, studded with tiny diamonds. A necklace Sienna never wore publicly. A necklace only he had given her, years ago, when they were still teenagers chasing fireflies by the lake. She had told him back then, “This will always stay between us. Just ours.”
He had never forgotten those words. And he knew—without a shred of doubt—that Sienna had kept them.
His chest tightened, anger flashing beneath his grief. He stepped closer, eyes locked on the pendant at Eve’s throat.
“That necklace,” he said slowly, his voice low and edged with suspicion. “Where did you get it?”
Eve’s hand instinctively touched it, her fingers brushing over the pendant as if protecting it. She hesitated, her practiced smile faltering for just a fraction of a second before she recovered.
“It was Sienna’s,” she said smoothly. “Daniel gave it to me. He thought it would be… comforting.”
Lucas’ jaw clenched. He didn’t believe her for a second.
His gaze darkened, and his voice dropped to a whisper that sliced through the room.
“Sienna never wore that necklace around anyone but me.”
The silence that followed was thick, electric, dangerous.
Eve’s smile didn’t waver this time, but her eyes flickered—just briefly—like the crack of lightning before a storm.