Chapter 49: New Crisis
Sienna placed the coffee on the desk, leaning against Damian, wrapping her arms around his neck, her eyes casually glancing at the photo on the file.
“Oh, isn’t that Evelyn? I thought she took time off to help a friend move? Why is she... at a studio? And with Dr. Ethan?”
“Damian, I told you long ago, Evelyn... she doesn't care about you at all.” “She only pretended to be good to you before. Now, look. The moment you don't give her what she wants, she immediately runs off to other men. Dining out, setting up a studio... who knows what else they're doing behind your back.”
Slam!
Damian punched the desk. The expensive mahogany surface groaned. He stood up abruptly and began pacing the office.
“Who does she think she is? Without me, she is nothing! A housewife I supported for eight years, daring to play games with me!”
He flashed back to Evelyn’s overly calm face in the office. That wasn't obedience; it was defiance! Silent mockery!
“Damian, please don’t be angry.” Sienna walked over and hugged him from behind. “You’ve been good enough to her. She's just ungrateful. Maybe... you should teach her a lesson and remind her who her master is.”
“A lesson?” Damian stopped pacing. “Yes, it is time for a lesson.”
He would show her the consequences of betraying him. He would turn everything she worked so hard for into smoke. He would make her kneel before him, crying and begging for his forgiveness.
Over the next two days, the studio was filled with the mixed scent of fabric fibers and faint tea. Evelyn and Sophie set up an embroidery frame on the balcony, laying out the oatmeal-colored cashmere shawl.
“How about this creamy white?” Sophie held up a bundle of silk threads, which shimmered softly in the sunlight. “Director Worth would love this color. It’s fresh and elegant.”
Evelyn nodded, picking up the needle. A small daisy bloomed under her fingers, its petals spreading with a resilient vitality.
“Oh! Right!”
Sophie mysteriously pulled a small velvet box from her bag. Inside were dozens of tiny freshwater pearls. “I contacted a craftsman and got these to sew onto the edges of the shawl. The Director will look gorgeous wearing this!”
This gift became their only solace amidst the high-pressure work.
Ethan also visited once during this time. He didn't come empty-handed, bringing a flash drive and a large bag of fresh fruit.
“I’ve organized some new evidence,” he handed the flash drive to Evelyn, his expression serious. “Dr. Drayven and Sienna secretly met several times at the hospital, and there are some suspicious drug procurement records. It’s not a complete chain of evidence yet, but it’s enough for the police to start an investigation.”
He looked at Evelyn’s slightly pale face, softening his tone. “Focus on your final assessment first. Once all this is over, we will give everything, including the evidence of Sienna faking the miscarriage, to the police at once. Damian and Sienna owe you, and they will pay for it twice over.”
Evelyn took the flash drive and nodded without speaking.
Ethan didn't linger. Noticing that the studio’s old sewing machine was skipping stitches, he voluntarily knelt down, unscrewed the casing, and patiently adjusted it. The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a gentle halo around his focused profile.
Sophie nudged Evelyn with her elbow, whispering, “Wow, Ethan is really... a jack of all trades.”
Evelyn simply smiled, not commenting.
The day before the birthday party, only the final finishing touches remained in the studio. Evelyn was cutting the last piece of main fabric for her final assessment sample when her phone rang at an inconvenient time.
It was the fabric supplier, Mr. Frank.
“Evelyn, I am so sorry, but there’s something I have to tell you.”
Evelyn stopped her scissors. “What is it, Mr. Frank?”
“We... we just received notice. The Omni Group... they acquired our upstream supplier. Now, they... they’ve ordered us not to sell any fabric to you.”
“What?!” A cold fury shot to Evelyn’s head.
Omni Group. Damian. It was him. It could only be him. He couldn’t stand to see her happy, to see her have her own career, or to see her escape his control. He wanted to show her that without him, she was nothing; she couldn't even buy a piece of cloth.
“I am truly sorry, madam. We are just a... well, you know how small companies are...”
“I understand,” Evelyn cut him off. “It's not your fault, Mr. Frank.”
She hung up and stood still.
“What is it, Evelyn?” Sophie noticed her expression and put down the pearls, walking over. “Who was that? You look terrible.”
“Damian cut off our fabric supplier.”
“What?!” Sophie shrieked, unable to believe her ears. “How can he be so shameless! This is your final project! He's trying to ruin you!”
Sophie paced frantically around the small studio. “What do we do, Evelyn? There’s no time to find a new supplier! The final assessment is in a few days!”
Watching Sophie panic, Evelyn grew calmer. Anger solved nothing; panic even less so. Damian wanted to see her distraught, cornered, preferably crying and begging him to take her back. She would not give him the satisfaction.
“Sophie,” Evelyn said. “Don’t panic.” “I remember Professor Hayes once taught a technique in class: deconstructing and reassembling old fabrics of different materials to create a brand new texture.”
Sophie was stunned. “Old fabrics? Where would we find those?”
“Near the studio,” Evelyn’s eyes went to the window. “I remember a vintage fabric shop. Let’s go check it out.”