EVELYN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Evelyn's POV

The grand estate was alive with lights, music, and the hum of conversation. The chandeliers glittered above, casting a warm glow on the marble floors. Expensive floral arrangements lined the long tables, and servers in pristine black and white uniforms moved through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne and elegant appetizers. The air smelled of expensive perfume and fresh flowers, mixed with the faint scent of rich leather from the polished furniture.

It was the kind of party where everyone wanted to be seen. People of all categories mingled—successful businessmen, wealthy socialites, artists, and other high-profile guests, all chatting animatedly. They wore their best clothes, the finest fabrics, and displayed their wealth with every movement.

I had never felt more out of place, and yet, I was the one they all wanted to see.

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I stood by the balcony, overlooking the crowd, feeling both disconnected and a little bit distant. My dress shimmered under the lights, a delicate silver gown that hugged my curves just right, with intricate beading around the neckline. Even after the shopping with Mariam on Saturday, Mom bought me another dress from an E-store, claiming she knew I'd pick z dress 'not so suitable for a grand ceremony'
The fabric of this one was cool to the touch, flowing down in soft waves to the floor. My hair, styled in soft curls, cascaded down my back, and I had applied just enough makeup to enhance my features—subtle highlights to make my eyes pop, a light touch of blush to soften my cheeks. My skin, pale yet smooth, reflected the soft glow of the evening.

I had always been told I was beautiful, though I didn’t always believe it. Tonight, however, the dress and makeup made me feel almost like a different person—someone who could belong in this world of wealth and power.

---
As my father approached, I stood taller, straightening my shoulders. I knew what was coming—introductions, handshakes, and the polite smiles I had learned to perfect. He presented me to several business partners, offering polite but empty conversations about the future of the company, the latest acquisitions, and how proud he was of me.

“Evelyn,” my father said, with that same proud smile. “This is Mr. Langston. I’m sure you’ve met.”

I nodded, a forced smile on my lips. Mr. Langston had a way of making people feel small without even trying. Tall, with sharp features and a cold demeanor, he always held himself with an air of authority. He smiled at me, a little too long, as if he was assessing me. I hated that feeling, but I pushed it away.

As the conversation continued, I couldn’t help but offer my own opinion on the topic they were discussing—a company expansion project that seemed to be going well. I commented on a particular detail, something I had heard at school, and Mr. Langston's eyes flickered with interest.

"Bright for your age," he remarked, his tone faintly approving but distant. "Impressive."

The compliment, though seemingly harmless, left a strange taste in my mouth. Bright for my age. I had heard people use that phrase before, but never from someone like him. Someone so... detached. It made me feel like a child who was trying too hard to be seen as an adult.

---
As the evening wore on, I found myself growing more uncomfortable in the crowd. It felt like a performance I wasn’t ready for. I excused myself from the group and slipped away, quietly walking down the hall towards the kitchen. The sound of laughter and music seemed to fade behind me, leaving me with only the distant hum of conversation and the cool air of the hallway.

The kitchen was empty except for a few staff members quietly working. I took a deep breath, leaning against the counter for a moment, trying to calm my nerves. The noise from the party seemed so far away here, and for a second, I could almost breathe.

But then I heard it—a voice. Deep, low, and all too familiar.

"Evelyn," it said, and I froze.

I turned slowly, my heart skipping a beat. There, in the doorway, stood Mr. Langston. His tall frame filled the space, and his gaze immediately locked onto mine. His eyes were piercing, calculating, and for a moment, I couldn’t look away.

"Why aren’t you at the party?" he asked, his voice smooth like velvet but laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

I didn’t answer right away, unsure of what to say. My mind raced. The space between us felt charged, but I couldn’t explain why.

“I... I just needed a break,” I managed, my voice faltering slightly.

He took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “You shouldn’t hide away like this,” he said, his words quiet but insistent.

I couldn’t bring myself to respond. There was something unsettling about the way he was looking at me, something I couldn’t shake.
I tried to step around him, but he reached out, gently grasping my arm, stopping me. His touch, though light, felt invasive. “Let me get you a drink,” he suggested, his smile far too knowing. He moved closer, his hand brushing my shoulder as he led me to the bar on the counter.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I’m not thirsty.”

But he wasn’t having it. “One drink won’t hurt. It’ll help you relax,” he said with a knowing smile.

I pulled back slightly, but then he reached out again, gently touching my chin, lifting it so that I had no choice but to meet his eyes.
I wanted to pull away. I wanted to tell him to stop. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.