Chapter 119: Genuine Affection
Ayla reached out and patted Evelyn's stiff shoulder. “I’ve seen your sketches; they’re truly inspired. Third place is an insult, but given the circumstances, it was the best we could do.” With that, Ayla turned and walked back toward the judges' area.
Evelyn followed her line of sight. Up in the high-tier VIP box, Ryan was seated. He held a glass of red wine, and across the crowd and the noise, he raised it in a silent toast to her. In that instant, Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat.
Ayla and Ryan… what exactly was their relationship?
The closing music for the design competition began, and people started to file out, the noise pulling Evelyn back from her daze. She saw Ayla preparing to leave the judges’ panel and quickly hurried to intercept her.
“Ms. Vance!” Evelyn called, stopping her.
Ayla paused, turning to her with a questioning look.
“Thank you,” Evelyn’s gratitude was heartfelt. “For what you did on stage—truly, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Ayla smiled. “If you want to thank someone, thank Ryan.” Seeing Evelyn’s surprise, Ayla continued, “He was the one who noticed the score anomaly immediately through his people and instantly activated a contingency plan. Otherwise, you truly would have been screwed over by that scumbag and his mistress today.”
Ryan? Evelyn’s heart tightened again, and she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Ms. Vance… are you and Mr. Lawrence… close?”
Ayla raised an eyebrow, as if she found the question amusing, then chuckled. “Ryan Lawrence and I go way back. In this city, the women who want to sleep with him stretch from Fifth Avenue to Brooklyn, but I’m not interested in him, and he has no interest in me that way.”
She stepped closer, her gaze focused on Evelyn’s face, her expression becoming profoundly sincere. “I’ve never seen him care about anyone this much.”
“Ryan is an absolute bastard—arrogant, controlling, and he never plays by the rules. Before, if he wanted something, he’d just throw money at it or take it. But this time is different.” Ayla leaned in, lowering her voice. “To ensure you had a fair chance, he spent a fortune to become the biggest investor in this competition, guaranteeing the very fairness you cared about. He’s not messing with you, Evelyn.”
“His feelings for you are genuine. This isn't just a game to him.”
Boom! Something exploded in Evelyn’s mind. She stood frozen, Ayla’s words echoing repeatedly. Not a game… Genuine…
The images she had deliberately ignored, or dismissed as a playboy’s manipulation, flashed before her. The rainy night, the black umbrella, his words “Don't cry over someone who isn't worth it” as he offered her a tissue. The hotel room, where he forced her to face his desire but stopped at the last second, setting up the entire scene for Damian. The fitting room just now, where he pinned her to the door, furiously questioning if she still cared about that jerk—a kiss filled with suppressed jealousy and volatility.
She had always believed it was humiliation, flirting, the powerful playing with their prey. But Ayla told her it was protection, it was favoritism.
Shame, shock, gratitude, and a hint of unbelievable panic exploded in her chest, making it hard to breathe. Could a woman like her, mired in scandal, pregnant with someone else’s child, and covered in shame, truly be worth all this effort from such an exclusive man?
Ayla noticed her dazed look and gave her a knowing smile.
“Seize the opportunity, darling.” Ayla reached out and straightened Evelyn’s slightly crooked collar. “Having a man like Ryan Lawrence obsess over you is something every woman in New York only dreams of. Don’t keep him waiting too long.”
With a casual wave, Ayla turned and walked away in her high heels, leaving only her retreating back. Evelyn stood at the end of the now empty corridor, her heart pounding so fast she thought it might leap out of her throat.
Evelyn hadn't fully recovered from Ayla’s words when familiar, hurried footsteps sounded behind her.
“Evelyn!” The moment Damian saw her, he reached out his hands, trying to grab her shoulders, his face a mask of guilt and flattery. “I’m so sorry, darling. I was awful. I missed your award ceremony.”
Evelyn instinctively took half a step back, evading his touch. Damian’s hands froze mid-air, but he quickly withdrew them naturally, his tone becoming more earnest, even laced with self-pitying devotion. “Darling, I knew you would win. You’re my wife, you’re the most important person to me…”
Evelyn watched his performance in silence. Not long ago, this man, who now claimed she was his “most important person,” had repeatedly trampled her dignity for his mistress. Now, he was putting on this affectionate show, as if the pain he inflicted had never happened.
Seeing Evelyn’s silence, Damian assumed she was still angry about past events. He quickly pulled a deep blue velvet jewelry box from his suit pocket. He opened the box, revealing a dazzling diamond necklace nestled inside. The main diamond was at least five carats, catching the hallway lights with a blinding fire.
Damian presented the box like a precious offering. “I specially prepared this for you. It’s my apology gift, and a present to celebrate your Third Place win.”
“This necklace suits you perfectly. Evelyn, please don’t be angry anymore, okay? I’ve booked that Michelin restaurant we used to go to—the one where we had our first date. Tonight, let’s celebrate properly, just the two of us, like before.”
Like before. What was it like before? Was it her waiting for him until late at night with dinner ready, while he was out cheating with Sienna? Was it her giving up her education for his career, becoming a selfless housekeeper, enduring his sneers? Or was it like that night, her crying in despair in their room while he was in the next room sleeping with another woman?
Evelyn lowered her gaze to the jewelry box. Damian always did this: hit her, then offer a cheap reward. He assumed if he spent a little money and flashed a smile, the Evelyn who loved him selflessly would be grateful and forgive all his betrayals.
Evelyn raised her hand. Damian smiled smugly, thinking she was accepting the gift and preparing to help her put it on.
However, Evelyn’s hand did not reach for the box. Instead, she firmly pushed his hand away.
“Damian, I don’t need it.” Damian’s smile froze, his hand still suspended in the offering gesture. “Don’t need what? You don’t like the style? That’s fine, we can go to the store and exchange it…”
Evelyn's eyelashes fluttered, a new, unshakeable resolve in her eyes. “I don't want your gift.” She lifted her head, meeting his gaze directly. “Or, to be precise, I don’t want anything from you.”
The eyes that were once full of love and adoration now held only detachment and finality. Damian was stunned, the gift box in his hand suddenly feeling heavy. His brow furrowed, unable to comprehend this sudden coldness.
“Evelyn, what… what is wrong with you today?” he asked, disbelief coloring his voice.
“What’s wrong with me? I’m simply awake. Awake enough to finally see that your so-called ‘affection’ is nothing more than patronizing charity!” She took a step forward, forcing Damian to instinctively retreat a half-step. An invisible barrier seemed to have completely erected itself between them, cutting off all past intimacy, leaving only a stark confrontation.
“I won’t be attending your celebration dinner!” She took a deep breath, feeling the foul air that had been suffocating her chest finally dissipate.
Ryan’s protective actions showed her what respect felt like, while Damian’s condescending offerings only filled her with disgust. “So now, disappear from my sight!”