Married To My Enemy

chapter 5

Outside, she reached into her bag and pulled out her keys, her fingers brushing against a few forgotten things she hadn’t had the energy to sort through.

Her Lamborghini was still there.

At least something hadn’t been taken from her.

She got in and drove away without looking back, the city lights blurring past her like a life she no longer belonged to.

By the time she reached the Ashford mansion, the sky had begun to dim, the last traces of sunlight fading into a dull gray.

The gates opened, and the car rolled in smoothly, as if nothing had ever changed.

When Evelyn entered the Ashford mansion, Isabella was already there. Her hand was wrapped in thick bandages, the redness beneath mostly a scald, but the careful wrapping made it seem far worse than it truly was. Maids hovered nearby, fussing over the bandages, while Mrs. Ashford observed with a quiet, detached attention, as if the display mattered more than the injury itself.

Not a single servant greeted Evelyn as she stepped inside. The silence pressed down on her, heavier than any words could, stretching uncomfortably in the vast space. The only acknowledgment came in the form of her mother-in-law’s cold shoulder—eyes not sparing her even a glance.

“Hey, Eve, where had you gone?” Isabella’s voice was casual, almost cheerful, betraying none of the injury she had suffered.

“I had to retrieve my car,” Evelyn said evenly. “Since apparently I’m not allowed to drive any car here.”

Isabella’s eyes widened in mock shock, her expression almost theatrical. “Oh my God! How could you not be allowed? You’re Ashford now, of course you’re allowed.”

Evelyn tilted her head slightly, her tone flat, free of anger or warmth. “Maybe the Ashford servants aren’t trained well.”

“Oh, Eve, please don’t be offended by them,” Isabella said, her voice soft and understanding, every word carefully placed. “I’ll teach them. They’ve served our family for so long, and you’re new—it’s not their fault they can’t accept someone so easily.”

Mrs. Ashford remained silent, as if Isabella were the elder daughter of the household, and Evelyn’s presence barely mattered, barely existed at all.

Evelyn hummed in acknowledgment and left without another word, her steps measured despite the tension building inside her.

No sooner had she vanished from sight than the hushed voices began. They hadn’t even waited for her to get far, as if her presence alone was an inconvenience.

“She doesn’t even look regretful for what she did to you, Bella,” Mrs. Ashford said.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine. It’s just a—” Isabella gestured lightly at her bandaged hand. “A slight burn. Nothing serious. Please, don’t be harsh with her.”

“How could I not hate her?” Mrs. Ashford’s voice was sharp. “She bullied you for years, and now I have to see her every day. I hope Silas comes soon and takes her to another house. I cannot bear to look at her.”

“Mom, please, don’t say that,” Isabella replied softly. “I actually like Eve. We were close once, we had such good times together.” She sighed, the sound heavy with regret. “If only she hadn’t tried to take credit for my work… we could have been so close.”

Evelyn couldn’t stand it any longer. The words cut her deeper than any insult, sharper than the cold stares or whispered accusations, each sentence landing with deliberate cruelty. She closed her ears to their voices, her steps quickening until she reached her room.

She slammed the door behind her and collapsed onto the bed, the strength she had held onto finally slipping away. She had thought she’d grown stronger, that she would no longer feel the sting of betrayal.

But the tears came anyway.

She couldn’t bear being called a thief by people who had taken what was hers, who had celebrated her loss. Hatred coursed through her veins, burning hotter with every memory. She wanted revenge, she wanted justice, she wanted to see them all suffer—but it was the helplessness that tore at her most, watching the unjust thrive while she remained trapped, with no way out in sight.