Ashes of a forgotten wife

Chapter2

Chapter 2: A Face She No Longer Owns

Evelyn's POV

Sandra's apartment was on the twelfth floor of a building in the quieter part of Goldport, far from the towers and billboards that carried Anthony Valour's name.

Evelyn stood at the kitchen counter the next morning and cut fruit while the boys ate toast. Zion ate with his elbows on the table. Reuben ate with his back perfectly straight. She had not taught either of them to sit that way. It was simply who they were.

"We start school on Monday," Reuben said, not looking up from his toast.

"Yes," Evelyn replied.

"What if I already know everything they plan to teach?"

"Then you'll be patient while the other children catch up."

Reuben considered this. "That seems inefficient."

Zion reached over and took a piece of Reuben's toast.

"Zion," Evelyn said.

"I was testing him," Zion said simply. "To see if he would share."

"And would you have given it back if I hadn't said anything?" Reuben asked.

Zion bit into the toast without answering.

Evelyn hid her smile and went back to cutting.

Sandra came in from the hallway, holding her phone out. "You need to look at this."

On the screen was a news article from that morning. The headline read: VALOUR INDUSTRIES ANNOUNCES EXPANSION INTO HEALTHCARE SECTOR. Below the headline was a photograph of Anthony Valour walking out of a building in a dark suit, one hand in his pocket, his face arranged in that familiar expression of total indifference to anything around him.

Evelyn looked at the photo for exactly three seconds, then handed the phone back.

"I already know about it," she said.

"The healthcare sector, Evelyn. That's where I work. That's how close he's getting."

"I know." She set the knife down. "That's how I'm getting in."

Sandra blinked. "What?"

"Valour Industries just posted a senior caregiver position for their headquarters childcare unit. They launched an on-site daycare program for staff children two months ago. It's part of the healthcare expansion." Evelyn dried her hands on a towel. "I applied three weeks ago under my new name. I got a callback yesterday."

Sandra stared at her. "Emilia Cross."

"Yes."

"You're going to work for him. In his building. With your new face."

"Yes."

Sandra sat down slowly. "And if he recognizes you?"

Evelyn looked at her steadily. "He won't. I don't look anything like the woman he threw away."

That was true and not true at the same time. The surgeon in Cedarwell had done careful, precise work. Her nose was different. Her jaw was softer. Her eyes were the same shape but she wore brown contacts now over her natural dark grey. She looked like someone who could have been related to the old Evelyn, a cousin perhaps, but not the same woman.

The question she had never been able to answer was whether Anthony would feel something familiar in her presence even if his eyes did not catch it.

She decided that was a risk she had to take.

Her interview was at two o'clock.

She wore a cream blouse, flat shoes, and kept her hair pinned back. She looked calm and professional and forgettable, which was exactly the point.

Valour Industries headquarters sat in the center of Goldport like it owned the city, which, in many ways, it did. The lobby was made of polished stone and glass, cold and impressive, the kind of space designed to make visitors feel small.

Evelyn felt nothing. She had once decorated the sitting room of the penthouse on the forty-second floor with her own hands, chosen the curtains, and picked the painting above the fireplace. She knew this building better than most of the people who worked in it.

She gave her name at the front desk. "Emilia Cross. Two o'clock interview."

The receptionist, a young woman named Blessing according to her badge, smiled and pointed her toward a waiting area.

Evelyn sat and crossed her ankles and waited.

She was two minutes early. Anthony was always exactly on time.

At two o'clock precisely, a tall man in a charcoal suit walked out of the elevator and crossed the lobby without looking left or right. He had the kind of walk that parted a room. Two assistants trailed behind him, speaking quickly, and he answered without slowing down.

Evelyn looked at her hands.

She did not look up.

She heard him stop.

She heard one of his assistants say something about the afternoon schedule, and then she heard a pause, the kind of pause that has weight in it.

She looked up.

Anthony Valour was not looking at her. He was looking at the document his assistant had just handed him. His face was unreadable, as it always had been.

He walked past.

Evelyn breathed out slowly.

"Miss Cross?" A woman in a blazer was standing in front of her. "I'm Mirabel Stone, head of our childcare unit. Please come with me."

The interview lasted forty minutes. Mirabel asked about her experience, her certifications, her approach to child development, and her ability to handle difficult personalities in young children.

Evelyn answered every question without hesitation. She had spent five years building a childcare center in Cedarwell. She had two sons of her own. She had read every book, taken every course, earned every certificate. There was nothing Mirabel could ask that she had not already lived.

At the end, Mirabel folded her hands on the desk and said, "You're overqualified, Miss Cross. Honestly, I expected someone much younger from your application."

"I want this specific position," Evelyn said simply.

Mirabel studied her. "May I ask why?"

"Because I believe in what you're building here," Evelyn said. "And I work best when I believe in the place I'm working."

Mirabel nodded slowly. "We'll be in touch by Friday."

Evelyn stood, shook her hand, and walked back to the lobby.

She was almost at the exit when she heard a child's voice cut through the quiet lobby like a bell.

"Let go! I said let go! I want to go find my daddy!"

She turned.

A small boy, no older than five, was pulling against a flustered assistant's grip near the elevator bank. He had dark curly hair and cheekbones like two small blades, and his eyes, even from across the lobby, were dark brown with gold near the center.

The same eyes as Zion.

The same eyes as Reuben.

The same eyes as Anthony Valour.

The boy broke free from the assistant, took three running steps, and crashed directly into Evelyn's legs.

He looked up at her.

She looked down at him.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Then the boy tilted his head to the side, the same way Reuben did when he was figuring something out, and said very seriously, "You smell like my mama."

Evelyn's throat closed completely.

The assistant rushed over, apologizing, reaching for the boy, but the child grabbed the hem of Evelyn's jacket with both fists and refused to let go.

"Little sir, please," the assistant said breathlessly.

"No," the boy said. He was still looking at Evelyn. "Who are you?"

Evelyn crouched down to his level. Her voice was steady even though nothing else was.

"My name is Emilia," she said.

"I'm Benjamin," the boy said. "I don't like it here. It's too quiet and no one plays with me."

"Where is your nanny?" the assistant asked.

"She quit," Benjamin said, without any emotion at all. "She said I did too much work. I don't think she's saying the truth. I think she had too little patience."

Evelyn almost laughed. She pressed her lips together to stop it.

"Benjamin," she said gently, "your daddy is probably looking for you."

The boy's grip on her jacket did not loosen.

"He's always busy," Benjamin said. "He forgets I'm here sometimes."

Behind her, she heard the elevator open.

She heard footsteps stop.

Then she heard Anthony Valour's voice, very quiet and very controlled.

"Benjamin. Let go of the woman's jacket."

Benjamin turned to look at his father.

Then he looked back at Evelyn.

"I don't want to," he said.