Chapter 184: Marcus’s Final Move
Evelyn felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. This wasn't just a diary about her birth. This was the weapon that could bury Marcus Lawrence forever.
No wonder he was willing to kill Damian for this book. No wonder he offered her five hundred million dollars to leave New York. He wasn't afraid of her taking his money; he was afraid of her and the ring coming together to strip away his mask of philanthropy and reveal the monster underneath.
"Mommy, your hands are so cold," Elias said, squeezing her fingers.
Evelyn snapped back to reality and pulled Elias into a hug so tight the boy gasped. "It’s okay, baby," she whispered, her eyes turning harder than they had ever been. "Mommy just found a secret."
Meanwhile, at Marcus’s estate on Long Island, the study was a disaster zone. Priceless Ming vases lay in shards across the floor.
"Useless! You are all useless!"
Marcus roared from behind his massive mahogany desk, his cane striking the back of a kneeling man in a black suit. "You couldn't handle a wounded Damian Green? I wanted the diary! Not that piece of trash you brought back!"
The man bowed his head, trembling. "Sir... we heard from the hospital. The real diary is already with Sophia Bell. And... there are rumors inside the family. People are looking into the old accounts. The board members are starting to waver."
Marcus seemed to age ten years in a second. His face, wrinkled like old bark, twisted into a mask of murderous intent. He knew that if Evelyn cracked the secret and had Ryan’s backing, he wouldn't just lose his status—he would die in a prison cell.
Thirty years ago, he had failed to pull the weeds out by the roots, leaving Madeline’s "mistake" alive. Now, that mistake had come back for his head.
"If they won't give me a way to live, then we all die together," Marcus hissed, his cloudy eyes glowing with madness. "Set it up. I don't care if it's the 'Star Awards' or the school that brat goes to. I want Evelyn to watch everything she loves burn. Call in the 'Cleaners.' This time, leave no one alive."
At the apartment, Evelyn put Elias to bed and returned to the living room. Vincent had already arrived with a doubled security detail to guard the perimeter.
Only Ryan and Evelyn remained. Ryan had finished reading the revealed text in the diary. His face was grim as he traced the family crest on the cover.
"I underestimated how evil that old man truly is," Ryan said, closing the book. "Evelyn, the game has changed. This isn't about an inheritance anymore. This is a war of survival."
"I know." Evelyn sat on the sofa, her hands clasped. Though her fingertips were still vibrating, her eyes were clear. "I’m done hiding."
"I can send you to Switzerland. Or a private island," Ryan said, gripping her shoulders. "Leave this to me."
"No." Evelyn shook her head. "That evidence cost my mother her life. I am going to be the one who puts Marcus behind bars."
Just then, her phone buzzed on the table. It was an email from the design competition committee.
Dear Ms. Sophia Bell: After further investigation, all allegations against you have been proven false. Your eligibility has been fully restored. We look forward to seeing your work at the 'New York Star Awards' finals at Lincoln Center the day after tomorrow at 7:00 PM.
At almost the same time, Ryan’s phone chimed. It was a short, chilling text from Vincent.
Boss, dark web monitoring shows Marcus just moved three million dollars to a group of Eastern European mercenaries. Target location: Lincoln Center.
Ryan frowned, about to tell Evelyn she couldn't go, but she pressed her hand over his. She had seen the message. She stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the glittering, dirty night of Manhattan.
"If he wants to strike there, then we’ll show him what happens when he touches what belongs to us," she said.
That night, Vincent moved the diary to the Nova Group’s underground vault—a facility that even the CIA would struggle to crack. Evelyn didn't look at it again.
For the next forty-eight hours, the studio was a whirlwind of activity. Evelyn locked herself inside. The floor was covered in scraps of fabric and discarded sketches. She threw out her previous designs and decided on a new path.
The main showpiece, titled "Origins," would be covered in black irises. Not soft, pretty flowers, but irises that looked like they were clawing their way out of thorns and mud, their petals edged in deep red and scorched black. Every stitch was an indictment of the Lawrence family’s rot; every needle pull was a tribute to Madeline.
Ryan didn't stop her. He simply left meals at her door and sat on the sofa outside, a silent guardian in the hall.
Twenty-four hours until the finals.
Lincoln Center, the crown jewel of New York fashion, was already under a shroud of tension. While the public was told it was just a routine security upgrade, anyone with eyes could see the guards were too numerous, their eyes too sharp.
In the shadows of the ventilation shafts, men in maintenance uniforms were quietly loosening screws.
"Move fast," the leader whispered, playing with a small black device the size of a palm. It was a high-yield incendiary charge. "The boss said to move when she’s on stage to accept the award. Once the chaos starts, grab the target and kill the rest."
"Copy that," his subordinate grinned, sticking the device to the metal wall. A small red light blinked in the dark like a hungry eye.
In the apartment, Evelyn stood before the full-length mirror, trying on the finished gown for the last time.
The black velvet hugged her curves perfectly. On the massive skirt, silver thread and black diamonds formed a field of burning irises. As she moved, the flowers seemed to bloom and flicker in the dark. It wasn't just a dress. It was armor.
When Ryan pushed the door open, his breath hitched. The woman before him was breathtakingly beautiful—a lethal mix of fragility and raw power. He walked over and hugged her from behind, his hot palms pressing against the bare skin of her back.
"Beautiful," Ryan rasped, kissing the nape of her neck. "So beautiful I want to hide you away and never let the world see."
Evelyn turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck. It was a rare moment of total reliance on him. "If I hide, I can’t win. I’m going to stand in the brightest light possible so Marcus can see exactly who came back for revenge."
Ryan’s eyes darkened with heat. He pulled her waist tight against him, the urge to carry her to the bed nearly overwhelming his reason.