Chapter 16: Illegal Cohabitation
She furiously smashed the crystal vase, shards scattering across the floor.
Sienna hung up the phone, her chest heaving violently, her face contorted with savage rage.
“Useless! A bunch of failures!”
They actually let Evelyn escape!
Sienna trembled with anger, pacing back and forth in the room. Finally, she stopped, picked up her phone, and dialed a number.
“Find them for me. Track down that doctor named Ethan, and find his and Evelyn’s current location, immediately!”
Less than half an hour later, an address was sent to her phone.
Looking at the address on the screen, a venomous, cold smile appeared on Sienna’s face.
She unhurriedly dialed the police. “Hello, police? I want to report illegal cohabitation and possibly illicit dealings at the ‘Forest Cabin’ guesthouse, 112 Meadow Road, in the suburbs...”
...
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A heavy and urgent knocking sounded on the guesthouse room door.
Ethan had just helped the exhausted Evelyn onto the bed, and his face darkened at the sound.
“Police! Routine check!” The voice outside the door was authoritative.
Ethan gestured to Evelyn to be silent and walked over to open the door.
Two police officers stood at the entrance, their keen eyes sweeping over him, then casting toward the deathly pale Evelyn on the bed.
“We received a tip-off...”
“Officer,” Ethan interrupted him calmly, taking his credentials from his wallet. “This is my patient, Miss Evelyn. She is unwell and the situation is urgent. As her family doctor, I brought her here for recuperation so I can monitor her at any time.”
His voice was steady and professional, leaving no room for doubt.
The police exchanged a look, glancing at his doctor’s title on the badge and then at Evelyn, who indeed looked genuinely ill in bed. They believed him somewhat.
They asked a few brief questions, apologized for the disturbance, and left.
Ethan closed the door, leaned against it, and exhaled slowly.
The air in the room seemed frozen, and his breathing was clearly audible.
Just as Evelyn thought she was temporarily safe, her phone vibrated abruptly. A familiar name popped up on the screen: Director Eleanor.
“Evelyn, dear, are you alright? Mr. Damian visited us today and made a large donation. He seemed very concerned about you, saying you have been under a lot of stress lately. If you run into difficulties, you must tell us.”
Every single word pricked Evelyn’s nerves like a needle.
This was not concern; it was a naked threat.
Damian was using the person she respected most in the world to threaten her into returning to that cage.
“I have to go,” her voice trembled. “I must see her.”
“Absolutely not.” Ethan pressed her cold wrist. “That is his goal. Evelyn, the final defense is soon. He wants you to give up on your own.”
That night, Evelyn got no sleep.
She sat on the cold floor, the patched-up design drafts spread out before her.
A tear fell onto the paper, blurring a small patch of ink.
On the day of the final defense, Ethan was driving. Evelyn held her portfolio, feeling as if she were embracing her most precious treasure.
Crash!
A deafening, harsh sound. The vehicle behind them slammed into them violently.
Under the massive impact, Ethan instinctively swerved the steering wheel sharply to the right, simultaneously stretching out his right arm to shield Evelyn firmly in her seat.
His head struck the side window with a muffled thump.
“Ethan!” Evelyn screamed, looking at him in shock.
Blood streamed down from his temple, staining half his face.
“I am fine,” he gritted his teeth, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Get out of the car, quickly! Go to the venue! Go!”
“No, you are bleeding! We have to go to the hospital!”
“Can’t you see this is their doing?” Ethan pushed her, his gaze unusually sharp. “They want you to be late, they want you to give up! Now, get out of the car immediately and go complete your defense! I will handle things here!”
“Go, quickly,” his voice was hoarse. He shoved a wad of cash into her hand. “Take a cab to the venue, hurry!”
Evelyn was stunned by his shout. Seeing his bleeding forehead and resolute eyes, tears welled up and spilled over.
She knew he was right.
She grabbed her portfolio, stumbled out of the car, and sprinted toward the venue without looking back.
When she breathlessly pushed open the door of the defense hall, she was exactly ten minutes late.
All eyes swiveled to her. Professor Hays on the review panel frowned deeply.
Then, her vision froze.
Sitting in the first row of the audience, right next to the review panel, was Damian.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, his posture elegant, as if watching a play that had nothing to do with him.
His gaze cut through the crowd and landed on her, cold, calm, and carrying the indifference of someone watching their prey.
Evelyn felt the air instantly sucked out of her lungs, and her head buzzed.
How could he be here?
The cold stare was like a nail, pinning Evelyn to the spot.
Her heart felt gripped by an invisible hand, and every beat was a sharp burst of pain.
The answer was self-evident.
He was here to see her humiliation, to see how she would be utterly shattered by reality on the podium she had dreamed of.
“Evelyn, we have been waiting for you.”
Professor Hays’s voice broke the suffocating silence, her tone filled with impatience and disappointment.
Evelyn's body trembled violently, and her consciousness was snapped back to reality.
Every eye on the review panel was scrutinizing, and the audience was buzzing with whispers.
She was late, disheveled, her hair scattered from running, looking like a complete failure.
This was exactly what Damian wanted to see.
A chill ran up her spine to the back of her head.
She recalled the patched-up design drafts, Director Eleanor’s text message, the blood seeping from Ethan’s temple, and his hoarse command, “Go, quickly.”
Why should she let him win?
Evelyn’s nails dug deep into her palms. The portfolio clutched in her arms felt like her only shield.
She lifted her chin, forced her eyes away from Damian, and met the stern gaze of Professor Hays on the review panel.
Her steps were initially unsteady, like walking on cotton.
But each step was firmer than the last.
The sound of her footsteps striking the floor echoed in the large venue.
She walked to the podium, placed her portfolio on it, and opened it.
“I apologize, professors, for my lateness,” her voice carried a slight breathlessness from running, yet was remarkably clear. “There was a small... accident on the way.”
She did not look at Damian, but she could feel his gaze still fixed on her, trying to pierce her through.
She straightened her back, her fingers tracing the edges of the design drawings, which still bore traces of dried tears.