Chapter 3 - The Devil in the Light
The hotel was a monolith of glass and steel,
looming over the small town like a foreign invader.
Evelyn stood in the lobby,
her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her worn cardigan,
feeling like a ghost in a world of luxury she had long ago rejected.
She had left the twins with her neighbor,
a woman she trusted with her life,
giving her instructions to flee if she didn't return by sunset.
The elevator ride was silent,
the numbers ticking upward like a countdown to her execution.
When the doors opened to the penthouse suite,
she was greeted by the familiar scent of sandalwood and expensive cigars.
Marcus was standing by the window,
his back to her,
his silhouette as imposing as it had been five years ago.
He had aged,
the hair at his temples touched with grey,
but the power radiating from him was undiminished.
"You've become very good at hiding,
Evelyn,"
he said,
his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.
She didn't answer,
standing her ground as he turned to face her.
His eyes,
those dark,
stormy eyes that used to look at her with such tenderness,
were now cold and calculating.
"Why did you leave?"
he asked,
stepping closer until she could see the faint scar on his jawline.
"You know why,"
she spat,
her anger finally overriding her fear.
"I saw you,
Marcus.
I saw you with Chloe.
In your study,
on your desk."
He paused,
a flicker of something—was it confusion?—passing across his face.
"Is that what you think happened?"
he asked,
his voice dangerously soft.
"I don't think,
I saw,"
she countered,
her voice rising.
"I came to tell you I was pregnant,
and I found you with my sister."
Marcus let out a short,
harsh laugh that sounded like dry leaves skittering across pavement.
"Chloe was a plant,
Evelyn.
She was working for the Moretti family.
She tried to seduce me to get the codes to the safe,
and when that didn't work,
she tried to kill me."
Evelyn froze,
her mind racing to process the words.
"You were holding her,"
she whispered,
the memory of his hands on Chloe’s waist flashing before her eyes.
"I was pinning her down to disarm her,"
he corrected,
walking over to a table and picking up a folder.
"She had a poisoned needle in her hand,
Evelyn.
I was trying to keep her from sticking it into my carotid artery."
He tossed the folder onto the coffee table,
and it slid open to reveal police reports and crime scene photos.
"She's been in a high-security prison for the last four years,"
he added,
his gaze fixed on hers.
"I spent two years looking for you before I found a lead.
And another three years making sure the world was safe enough for you to return."
Evelyn felt the floor tilt beneath her feet.
"Safe enough?"
she echoed,
her voice barely a whisper.
"The Morettis are gone,"
Marcus said,
his tone chillingly final.
"Every person who could have used you or my children as leverage is dead."
He stepped into her personal space,
the heat from his body overwhelming her.
"You took my heirs,
Evelyn.
You took five years of my life.
And you thought I would just let it go?"
"I was protecting them,"
she said,
her voice trembling.
"From you.
From your world."
"They are Vales,"
he said,
his hand reaching out to touch a stray lock of her hair.
"They belong in the palace,
not in some flour-dusted bakery in the middle of nowhere."
"They are happy here,"
she argued,
though she knew the argument was losing its weight.
"They are half-hidden,"
he countered.
"And now,
there is no turning back.
Pack your things,
May you like
Evelyn.
We are going home."
