EVELYN

CHAPTER 30

Evelyn's POV

I was somewhere between sleep and waking, a place where dreams and reality blended into a confusing haze. My body felt heavy, as if it were weighted down by invisible hands. My mind tried to drift away from the exhaustion, but something was tugging at me, a sound. Footsteps. They were measured, deliberate, drawing closer to me.

I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep. I didn’t want to wake up—not yet. Sleep was my only escape from the madness that had consumed my life. But then, the footsteps stopped near my bed. The air in the room felt different, like it was suddenly too thick to breathe.

“Evelyn…”

My father’s voice. Soft, tentative, and trembling. A voice I hadn’t heard in this tone since I was a little girl. There was a time when his voice was my anchor, my safe harbor. But now, it was a storm I couldn’t weather.

I didn’t move, didn’t open my eyes. Maybe if I stayed still, he’d leave.

“Evelyn,” he said again, quieter this time. Then… a sound that made my stomach twist. He was crying. Was he crying? My father never cried. He was made of stone, always unyielding, always in control.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, barely audible. His words hung in the air, heavy with regret. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I thought… I thought it would be best. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

My chest tightened. What was he talking about? What had he done?

“I believe you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I always believed you.”

Then why didn’t you act like it? I wanted to scream at him, to throw his words back in his face. But I stayed silent, tears pooling under my closed lids.

The door creaked open, and another set of footsteps entered the room. These were sharper, more purposeful. A voice followed, cold and calculating.

“Langston,” my father greeted him. The warmth in his voice was gone, replaced by something colder, more guarded.

“James,” Langston replied curtly. “We need to talk.”

“She’s still not well,” my father said. “This isn’t the time.”

Langston scoffed. “You’re running out of time. The papers haven’t been signed yet. If you delay any longer, I won’t be able to hold them off.”

“I can’t do this to her,” my father argued, his voice firm. “She needs time. She needs to recover.”

“Time is a luxury you don’t have,” Langston snapped. “You’ve got two weeks, James. Two weeks, or else–.”

My heart pounded in my chest.

“She’s my daughter,” my father said, his voice cracking again.

“There is no other way,” Langston hissed. “You signed the agreement. You made the deal. You knew the consequences.”

“I didn’t know it would come to this,” my father shot back. “I didn’t know ...”

Langston sighed, exasperated. “This isn’t about what you knew or didn’t know. This is about my and your company's reputation.”

My father didn’t respond. The silence between them was deafening. I could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on me, suffocating me even as I lay still.

Langston continued, his voice cold and final. “Two weeks. That’s all you’ve got. If you don’t deliver by then… well, you know what happens.”

He placed something on the bedside table—papers, I assumed. I didn’t dare open my eyes to confirm.

“Goodnight, James,” Langston said, his tone devoid of warmth. Then he left, his footsteps fading into the hallway.

The room was silent again, save for the sound of my father’s ragged breathing. I felt his hand brush against my cheek, gentle and hesitant. He thought I was asleep.

“I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” he whispered. “I never wanted this for you.”

A tear slid down my temple, betraying me. He froze, his hand lingering on my cheek. But I didn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t face him, not now.

He stayed for a while, sitting silently beside me. I could feel the turmoil radiating off him, the guilt and sorrow eating away at him. But it wasn’t enough. His regret couldn’t undo the damage he’d done.

Eventually, he stood and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

I let the tears fall freely then, hot and relentless. My body shook with silent sobs as I tried to piece together what I’d just heard.

The weight of it all pressed down on me, crushing me under its enormity. I felt like I was drowning, and no one was coming to save me.