Chapter 7: Shadow
1216 Words
Evelyn lay sprawled across her bed with one leg hooked over the side, as the moonlight traced silver across her bare arms. The room was quiet, and she was left alone with thoughts she didn’t know how to name.
The ring sat on her nightstand, glinting faintly in the dark. She couldn’t stop looking at it. It wasn’t just the gold or the diamonds, though they were beautiful. It was what it meant. What it dared to mean.
Marriage.
The word felt strange in her head, heavier than it should. Marriage wasn’t for people like her. Marriage...it belonged to fairy tales, to women with soft hearts and unscarred hands. She’d never thought it would find her, not like this, not from him.
That man.
That maddening, masked man who had walked into her life with the calm of a storm and the confidence of someone who didn’t need to prove himself. She could still hear the auctioneer’s voice echoing in the hall, still feel the way the air shifted when he stepped forward, bidding for her like he was claiming fate itself.
It should have angered her. It should have made her laugh.
Instead… it unsettled her.
Evelyn rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her hair spilling over the pillows like wildfire. “Who does that?” she muttered softly to herself. “Who looks at me and thinks marriage?”
No one ever had.
People saw her name and thought of blood, money, and power. They saw Vincent Liroux’s daughter, not a woman who could be touched or wanted or loved. The few who dared approach her never lasted long. They were too frightened, too fragile, or too weak.
But this one… this stranger had looked at her like he knew exactly who she was and still wanted her anyway.
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious.
Her fingers drifted to the ring box again, tracing its edge. There was something reckless about the gesture, something that mirrored her own heart. Because as much as she wanted to scoff at the idea, as much as she wanted to say she didn’t care, part of her did.
She wanted to know what he saw in her.
The thought made her chest tighten. She had faced death, betrayal, war, and pain...but this? This quiet, trembling curiosity inside her? That was new. That was terrifying.
She had never been chosen to even decide for marriage.
Evelyn pushed herself upright, her long hair falling messily over her shoulders. The floor was cold beneath her feet, grounding her as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, staring at the little piece of gold that had somehow turned her world upside down.
Maybe it wasn’t just about the ring. Maybe it was about what it represented. A man brave or foolish enough to challenge her father, to break tradition, to throw her into confusion just to put this in her hands.
And she… couldn’t stop thinking about him.
His voice, his presence, that quiet certainty when he looked at her. Like he already knew she would say yes.
She huffed out a breath, half a laugh. “You don’t even love me.” she whispered to the dark.
And yet, part of her wondered what it would feel like, if he did. If someone ever looked past her name, past her sharp edges and her reckless tongue, and saw the woman underneath all that armor.
For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to win or fight or conquer. She just… wanted to understand what this was.
Evelyn lay back down slowly, turning toward the window. The moonlight spilled across her face, catching the faintest curve of a smile that she didn’t mean to have.
Maybe she’d meet him halfway. Maybe she’d let him chase her a little. See if he could handle what came after the mystery, after the fire.
Because for all her defiance, all her bravado, something inside her was whispering one terrifying truth.
She wanted him to mean it.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the thought thrumming in her blood like an uninvited rhythm. Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe, to steady the sudden flutter beneath her ribs. “Get a grip,” she muttered under her breath, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
She rolled off the bed, needing air, movement or anything to quiet the noise in her head. The room was cloaked in shadows, with the faint scent of jasmine surrounding the space. The only light came from the window, where the moon spilled across the floor in soft, silvery streaks.
Barefoot, she padded toward it with her nightdress brushing against her legs and the cool air licking at her skin. She reached for the windowsill, hoping the night breeze would clear her thoughts.
But before she could take a breather, before she could even think...something moved.
A shadow slipped past her. Silent and swift.
And then suddenly, cold fingers wrapped around her wrist, another pressed against her hip, forcing her front against the wall. Her breath caught, her heart jolting violently against her ribs.
“Wha—” she gasped, but the voice that followed froze her mid-word.
“You didn’t wear it.”
Low. Familiar. Smooth as smoke and just as dangerous.
The grip on her loosened just enough for her to turn her head, though she could barely make out his face. Just the faint outline of him, tall and composed, half-consumed by the dark. His hand slid from her wrist to her fingers, lifting them, turning them slightly toward the moonlight as if inspecting them...searching.
For the ring.
His touch was deliberate. Not harsh, but commanding, and that made it worse. Her pulse drummed in her ears. When he finally released her, she stumbled back, spinning toward him, her voice sharp with disbelief.
“You bastard!” she hissed, eyes wide as she tried to catch her breath. “Why are you here? How did you get into my room?!”
From the shadows came a soft chuckle that sounded lazy, unhurried, and infuriatingly calm.
“You were too busy daydreaming,” he said, stepping slightly into the light. The faintest glint of amusement lit his eyes. “Or should I say… nightdreaming?”
Evelyn’s blood ran hot.
He was here. The same man who had thrown her head into chaos. The same one who had given her the ring and, somehow, had broken into the Liroux estate like it was nothing.
Her instincts screamed to grab the gun hidden in her drawer, but her body wouldn’t move. She couldn’t decide if it was fear pinning her in place or something else entirely.
The moonlight caught his face, now partly hidden, partly revealed, and her stomach twisted. He looked exactly as she remembered. He looked calm, composed, with that maddening hint of arrogance that made her want to slap him and kiss him in the same breath.
'Kiss?!' she thought almost with a scoff, but she immediately recovered.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded, but her voice came out quieter than she intended, almost breathless.
He tilted his head as a predatory smile curved his lips.
“You already know.” he murmured.
- Writer
