22.

The sound of hurried steps echoed through the marble-floored hallway, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I turned toward the entrance just as the door swung open, revealing my parents. Their faces were a mix of urgency and expectation, but when they saw Evelyn standing there, their expressions softened, shifting into warm familiarity.

"Darling!" my mother exclaimed, her voice tinged with relief as she rushed toward Evelyn. My father followed, a smile breaking across his normally stern features.

I stood frozen, watching as they embraced Evelyn, their affection pouring out in waves that I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. My mother cupped Evelyn’s face like she was a fragile treasure, while my father pulled her into a tight hug.

It was as if I wasn’t even in the room.

The scene struck me like a dagger to the chest. They hadn’t even acknowledged me. I was just a bystander in my own home, watching my family treat Evelyn like she was the one who belonged.

"Look at you," my mother cooed to Evelyn, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "You’ve been through so much. I knew you’d come to us when you needed us."

My father nodded, his hand resting protectively on Evelyn’s shoulder. "You’ve always been the strong one, Evelyn. Whatever you need, we’re here for you."

The strong one? I clenched my fists, the bitter irony choking me. I had been the one enduring, the one trying to hold everything together in silence. And yet, here I was, invisible.

I took a step back, the weight of their rejection pressing down on me. But then something unexpected happened.

Daniel moved.

He left Evelyn’s side, his long strides taking him to where I stood. Without a word, he positioned himself beside me, his arms crossing over his chest. The cold air of authority he carried seemed to freeze the room.

"If your family drama has finished," Daniel said, his tone sharp and unyielding, "then kindly leave."

The words hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a blade. My parents stiffened, their warm demeanor toward Evelyn faltering as they turned to face Daniel.

"Daniel—" my mother began, her voice trembling slightly.

But Evelyn interrupted, her voice cracking as tears welled up in her eyes. "I’m pregnant," she blurted, her gaze darting between Daniel and my parents.

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

"I’m pregnant with Daniel’s child," Evelyn continued, her voice shaking but her eyes fixed on him. "I can’t live alone anymore. I need to be here, with him."

I felt the air leave my lungs, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from my chest. I turned to Daniel, expecting to see some sign of acknowledgment, of guilt, of anything.

But his face was unreadable, his icy demeanor unchanged.

"You won’t be living here," he said after a pause, his voice calm but laced with finality. "You’ll stay in the penthouse. It’s fully equipped and secure. I’ll make the arrangements."

Evelyn’s face crumpled, her tears falling freely now. "Daniel, you can’t—"

"I can," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And I will."

I stared at him, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. His words weren’t a declaration of loyalty to me, but they weren’t what Evelyn had wanted either. For a moment, I didn’t know what to feel.

Evelyn looked to my parents for support, but even they seemed hesitant, their previous confidence shaken by Daniel’s unyielding authority.

"Vera," my mother said, finally looking at me, her tone softer but still dismissive, "be a little more understanding. Evelyn’s going through a lot."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Understanding? When had anyone ever asked Evelyn to be understanding of me?

But before I could respond, Daniel spoke again.

"Enough." His voice was quiet but carried the weight of finality. "This conversation is over. Vera, let’s go."

He didn’t wait for a response, his hand lightly brushing against my back as he guided me toward the hallway.

For the first time in a long while, I felt something close to... safety. Even if it was fleeting, even if I couldn’t fully trust it, Daniel had stood beside me. And for now, that was enough.

As Daniel’s hand brushed against my back, I tried to steady my breathing, willing myself to stay composed. But the weight of it all—the rejection, the betrayal, the suffocating presence of Evelyn—was too much. My vision blurred, the edges of the room spinning.

I turned toward the stairs, needing to escape, but my legs felt like lead. Each step was heavier than the last until, halfway up, the world tipped sideways.

“Vera?” Daniel’s voice called from behind me, but it was distant, muffled, as if underwater. My hand reached out for the banister, but my fingers barely grazed it before everything went black.

When I came to, I was vaguely aware of voices—muffled, indifferent tones coming from my parents and Evelyn.

"She’s being dramatic," my mother said dismissively. "She’s always been like this."

"She’ll be fine," my father added, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "There’s no need to make a scene over it."

Evelyn’s voice joined them, laced with fake concern. "Maybe she just needs some air. You know how she can get when things don’t go her way."

But amidst their cold detachment, there was another voice—low, firm, and commanding.

"Move."

Daniel’s tone cut through their chatter like a knife, and within moments, I felt strong arms scoop me up. The warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the cold indifference of my family.

I forced my eyes open just a crack, enough to see Daniel’s jaw set in a hard line as he carried me up the stairs. Behind him, my parents stood frozen, their disapproval etched into their faces, but they didn’t make a move to stop him. Evelyn looked on, her lip curling in disdain.

Daniel didn’t so much as glance back at them. He carried me into my room and gently laid me on the bed, his movements surprisingly careful for someone so stoic.

"Stay with me, Vera," he murmured, his voice soft but edged with urgency.

I wanted to respond, to tell him I was fine, but my body refused to cooperate. My chest felt tight, and exhaustion pulled at me, dragging me toward unconsciousness again.