EVELYN

CHAPTER 1

Evelyn’s POV

I used to believe that silence was peace. That quiet moments were safe havens where nothing could touch me. But now, silence is the loudest sound in my world. It’s the suffocating echo of my father’s indifference, the ringing void left by my mother’s downcast eyes, and the deafening absence of words from the people who were supposed to protect me.

I stare at myself in the mirror. The girl looking back at me doesn’t feel like me anymore. Her lips are chapped, her eyes sunken, and her skin pale like it’s trying to disappear. I can still feel his hands on me, the weight of him pressing me down, stealing the air from my lungs, stealing me.

Victor Langston. My father’s business partner. The man who shook my hand two months ago and called me “bright for my age.” The man who laughed with my dad over scotch and cigars. The man who cornered me that night in the kitchen while everyone else laughed and drank in the glow of our perfect house.

I shiver, gripping the edge of the sink as the memory claws its way back, pulling me under like a tide I can’t fight.

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Two Months Ago

The house had never been so alive. Laughter spilled out of every room, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the low hum of jazz from the speakers. My mother flitted around in a gown that shimmered like starlight, her practiced smile fooling everyone into thinking she was happy. My father held court near the bar, his booming laughter drowning out every other sound.

“Evelyn, dear,” my father called from the foyer, her eyes darting between me and the guests. “Could you greet Mr. Langston? He’s just arrived.”

I turned to see him stepping through the door, his tailored suit immaculate, his smile polished. Victor Langston. My dad’s golden ticket to the next level of wealth. He was in his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp, calculating gaze that always made me uneasy.

“Evelyn,” he said, extending a hand. His grip was firm, lingering just a moment too long. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. You’re looking lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, stepping back.

The night unfolded like a scene from one of those gilded soap operas my mother loved. The house sparkled, the guests mingled, and I tried to disappear into the background. My father introduced me to everyone as his “brilliant daughter,” smiling proudly as if my accomplishments were extensions of his own.

At some point, I found refuge in the kitchen, nibbling on a canapé and scrolling through my phone, hoping the night would end soon.

“Not enjoying the party?” a voice drawled behind me.

I turned to see him standing there—Victor. He leaned against the counter, a glass of scotch in his hand, his tie loosened.

“It’s fine,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” he said, stepping closer. “A beautiful girl like you should be out there, enjoying herself.”

Something about the way he said it made my skin crawl. I gave him a tight smile and excused myself, walking toward the hallway that led to my room. But before I could reach the stairs, I felt his hand on my wrist.

“you're pretty, Evelyn” he said softly, touching my chin..
Until after he followed me upstairs...

The rest of the night is a blur. The sharp scent of his cologne. The weight of his body against mine. My protests swallowed by the thick walls of my room.
And then...silence.

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