Chapter 171: How Could She Trust Damian?
In a secluded booth of a private Manhattan café, Evelyn pushed a printed loan agreement across the table.
"Sign it," she said, her voice flat. "Twenty million dollars, calculated at the highest commercial interest rate on Wall Street. To be repaid in full, principal and interest, within three years."
Damian Green sat opposite her. The once high-and-mighty CEO of Omni looked like a shadow of his former self. He wore a dark turtleneck, and even in the dim light, the dark circles under his eyes were prominent. He looked broken.
He looked at the agreement and let out a bitter laugh. "Evelyn, does it have to be this businesslike? This is my compensation to you. You don't need to pay me back."
"I don't accept charity, especially yours," Evelyn interrupted coldly. "Either sign it, or I return the money to your account right now, even if my studio goes under."
Damian saw the resolve in her eyes. His hand trembled as he gripped the pen. He knew she meant it. Finally, he signed his name.
"Thank you." Evelyn tucked the paper away and stood up to leave.
"Wait." Damian suddenly reached down and lifted an old cardboard box onto the table. "I found these while clearing out the storage room at Green Manor. I was a jerk back then and threw them away. But later... I went back and found them all."
Evelyn frowned, her breath hitching as she looked inside. It was filled with her design sketches from college. Some papers were yellowed, their edges wrinkled and then carefully smoothed out.
On top was a sketch of the "Starlight" gown from her sophomore year—the prototype of the wedding dress she had dreamed of wearing when she first met him. In the corner of the box sat an acrylic trophy with a broken edge. It was her first "Newcomer Award," something Damian had once tossed into the trash for "taking up too much space."
"I had every sketch laminated," Damian explained urgently. "I tried to get the trophy fixed, but they said the cracks would always show... just like us." He looked up, his eyes pleading. "Evelyn, looking at these things, I realized what I lost. I killed the girl who once looked at me with so much love. I don't ask for forgiveness. Just let me make amends. Let me watch over you from a distance, okay?"
Looking at the broken trophy, Evelyn felt a dull ache in her chest. It wasn't touched by his gesture; she was mourning her lost youth. Things she once cherished were now being used as chips for reconciliation.
"Keep them," Evelyn said, looking away. "That girl is dead. Sophia Bell doesn't need old relics to remind her how foolish she used to be."
She walked out without looking back. Damian froze, tracing the cold edge of the trophy as tears fell onto the table.
By the time she returned to her studio, it was dark. A familiar Maybach was parked at the curb, engine idling. Ryan leaned against the door, several cigarette butts scattered at his feet. Seeing her step out of the taxi, he crushed his cigarette and strode over.
"You went to see him."
Evelyn didn't deny it. "I signed a loan agreement with him. I wanted that money to be official."
"Are you that desperate for cash?" Ryan grabbed her shoulders. "Nova has plenty of money! I'll give you whatever you want. Why take his? Don't you see he's playing the victim to get your sympathy?"
"Because it was the studio's lifeline! You weren't there!" Evelyn snapped, shoving his hands away. "And I didn't want to add to your burden while you were already overwhelmed!"
"Add to my burden? I never thought that..." Ryan looked stung. He gave a cold laugh and stepped closer. "I laid all my cards on the table at that press conference. I’ve been in your bed tucking your son in. And now you’re telling me you’d rather owe your ex-husband than rely on me?"
"He’s not helping you, Evelyn. He’s trying to seep back into your life by making you feel guilty. He wants you to think he’s changed." Ryan pointed toward the café, his teeth gritted. "He’s betting on your soft heart, and you’re taking the bait!"
"Enough!" Evelyn stepped back, her gaze turning cold. "Ryan, stop assuming everyone is as calculating as you are. Damian was a bastard, but he actually helped me this time. You should focus on handling your own problems first."
"Calculating?" he whispered, a self-deprecating smile touching his lips. "In your heart, everything I do is still just a businessman's tactic, isn't it?"
He gave her a long look, said nothing more, and drove away. Evelyn stood there, watching his taillights disappear, her heart aching so much she could barely breathe. She knew she had been harsh, but Ryan’s lack of trust made her defensive.
Just as she was about to go upstairs, a long Lincoln pulled up. The window rolled down to reveal an old, commanding face. It was Marcus Lawrence.
"Miss Bell, or should I say, Mrs. Green? If you don't mind, I’d like to discuss Ryan with you."
Ten minutes later, on a nearby park bench, Marcus didn't waste time. He tossed a file toward her. "Ryan probably never told you about his past."
Marcus tapped his cane on the ground. "He isn't a Lawrence by blood. He’s just a watchdog my brother adopted from an orphanage."
Evelyn opened the file. It was an old adoption certificate.
"The Lawrence family values bloodline. Ryan is talented, but he will always be an outsider," Marcus said, watching her. "To control the family, he needs a powerful partner. Or perhaps... perhaps because you both came from orphanages, he sees you as an easy target."
Evelyn’s fingers brushed the paper. "Be quiet." She closed the file and looked Marcus in the eye. "This kind of manipulation is beneath you."
"Whether it's manipulation or the truth, you know it in your heart." Marcus wasn't angry. He took out a business card. "If you change your mind, call me. The Lawrence family can offer you a much bigger stage than Nova, and we can help you get rid of that clingy ex-husband for good."
Evelyn ignored the card and walked away. She returned to the studio, desperate to drown her thoughts in work.
"Boss, you’re finally back!" the technical director yelled, sweating. "The server was just attacked! Someone tried to steal the core designs for our 'New Life' collection!"
"What?" Evelyn rushed to the computer. "Did we lose them?"
"Luckily, the firewall Ryan helped us upgrade cut them off halfway. But I traced the IP address."
A string of code appeared on the screen, eventually pinning a location to a corporate building in Midtown. It was a tech subsidiary of Omni Group. Damian’s company.
Evelyn stared at the address. Hours ago, that man had been crying in front of her, begging for forgiveness with their old memories. And now, his company was trying to steal her life's work?
The absurdity and the rage of being deceived consumed her. She felt like the world's biggest fool for believing, even for a second, that Damian Green wanted to make amends.