Chapter 23
Sebastian leaned against the opposite wall, hands shoved in his coat pockets, a wrinkled collar peeking out. He looked rough—dark circles under his eyes, stubble shadowing his jaw.
He held a bouquet of white roses. The petals at the edges were wilting, the wrapping paper damp.
Evelyn's first reaction wasn't surprise. It was irritation.
The kind that seeped out from her bones, a dull blade sawing at her nerves.
Her gaze swept over Sebastian's face, paused for a second on the flowers, then returned.
"How did you get this address?"
Sebastian straightened and took a step forward.
"The driver followed you."
No attempt to hide it. His tone even carried a trace of entitlement.
Evelyn's hand stayed on the doorknob. She glanced back inside to make sure Sophie hadn't come out, then pulled the door shut behind her, blocking the entrance.
"Say what you came to say and leave."
Sebastian stared at her face for a few seconds. He opened his mouth, closed it again, his Adam's apple bobbing twice.
"What happened with Mr. Larry—that was my fault."
Six words.
When Evelyn heard that sentence, an image flashed through her mind. Mr. Larry lunging at her from behind. Her grabbing the wine bottle and smashing it down, her knuckles white, the shock of impact traveling up her forearm.
If she'd reacted one second slower.
If the fire alarm hadn't gone off.
Evelyn lifted her gaze from the floor back to Sebastian's face.
"And?"
Sebastian held the bouquet out toward her. Evelyn didn't take it, so he just gripped it tighter.
"I only wanted you to hit a wall, to face reality. I didn't think Mr. Larry would do something like that."
He paused, his voice dropping half a notch.
"I shouldn't have done that."
Evelyn leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest.
She didn't respond.
Sebastian waited a few seconds. When she didn't speak, he changed direction.
"You know about the Eastside project by now, right? The client isn't happy with the current team. The mid-term report's been sent back twice. You know John's limitations—he can't handle it."
Evelyn looked at him, expressionless.
Sebastian kept going.
"Eve, come back. Not home—to the company. I'll promote you to director, double your salary. I've already spoken to Mr. Lewis. When you come back, all initial project approvals go through you. You won't have to report to him anymore."
When he said this, his tone carried a certain certainty.
Evelyn knew that tone too well.
Sebastian's way of coaxing her was always the same. Apologize first, then offer incentives. Like closing a business deal—raise the offer high enough, and the other party should sign.
Evelyn looked down at the bouquet. White roses. She used to like white roses. Sebastian had remembered that for three years. He even knew which street her favorite flower shop was on. But these trivial details had never mattered when it counted.
She remembered the night her appendix flared up. She'd been curled on the sofa, sweating cold, and called Sebastian three times. The first call—no answer. The second—no answer. The third, he picked up. Arianna's laughter in the background. Sebastian said, "I'm busy, I'll call you back," and hung up.
She also remembered the moment she was pushed off the bungee platform. The safety harness still strapped to her body, she hung in midair watching Sebastian run toward the exit without looking back. It took the staff fifteen minutes to lower her down. Her legs were so weak she couldn't stand. She sat in the rest area for half an hour.
He never thought any of that was a problem.
A missed call, an absence, a broken promise. In his value system, those things always ranked below Arianna.
Now he stood in front of her holding flowers, offering a higher position and more money.
Just like that prenuptial agreement. Two-thirds of his assets in exchange for her accepting Arianna's existence.
Different numbers, same logic.
Evelyn reached out and pushed the bouquet back toward him.
Sebastian's arm stiffened.
"Sebastian, do you still think I left because I was throwing a tantrum?"
Sebastian's brow furrowed.
"You're not?"
Evelyn looked at his expression and took a second to assess. He genuinely believed that.
In Sebastian's mind, everything Evelyn had done was to force him to give in. Quitting was a tactic, moving out was a tactic, going to Parker Group was a tactic. As long as he offered enough, she'd come back.
He didn't believe Evelyn really didn't want him anymore.
Because in the past three years, Evelyn had never truly left. Every fight, every cold war, every tear—they'd all ended with her compromise. Every single time.
So he treated this time as just a continuation of all the others. Just bigger, that's all.
An odd taste rose in Evelyn's throat. Not heartache. Something closer to absurdity.
This man had been her husband for three years and didn't even know when she'd given up on him.
"So what do you want?" Sebastian's voice darkened. "Name your terms."
Evelyn took a deep breath.
"I don't have any terms. I just don't want anything to do with you anymore. I've said that so many times. When will you actually hear it?"
She turned to pull the door handle.
Sebastian's hand shot out from behind and grabbed her arm.
Five fingers clamped down on her upper arm, the force hitting its limit in an instant.
Evelyn felt the dull ache of muscle being squeezed. She turned her head to look at his hand, her voice going cold.
"Let go."
Sebastian didn't let go.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them to less than a foot. He looked down at her, his jaw tight, the vein at his temple bulging.
"Evelyn, I came here to talk to you properly. Are you really going to shut every door?"
Evelyn didn't answer.
She yanked her arm hard. It didn't come free. Sebastian's fingers dug into her muscle like a vice, harder than last time at the bar.
The hallway was quiet. Six-thirty in the morning—almost every resident in the building was still asleep.
Evelyn's right hand slipped into her pocket, touching the edge of her phone.
She didn't pull it out.
Because the sound of an engine came from below.
The sound of tires rolling over a speed bump was especially clear in the early morning.
Evelyn felt Sebastian's fingers loosen slightly. He'd heard it too.
A car door opened and closed downstairs.
Evelyn tilted her head slightly toward the hallway window.
A black Rolls-Royce was parked below.
The driver's side window slowly rolled down.
Cedric sat behind the wheel, wearing a black turtleneck, his left hand resting on the window frame. His gaze wasn't directed upward—he was looking straight ahead.
But Evelyn knew he'd seen them.
Because the passenger door popped open from the inside.
Sebastian's fingers froze completely.