Always make you mine

Episode Three

The morning sun filtered weakly through the thin curtains of Evelyn’s bedroom, doing little to lift the heavy weight pressing on her chest. She had slept poorly, haunted by images of debt notices and her parents’ exhausted faces.

She dressed quickly in a simple white blouse and comfortable jeans, then headed downstairs. The kitchen smelled of fresh coffee and buttered toast, but the usual light morning chatter was noticeably absent.

Her father sat at the dining table, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in a low, strained voice.

“…Yes, I understand the deadline. We’re doing everything possible to secure new funding. Just a little more time—that’s all I’m asking.”

Evelyn paused in the doorway, heart sinking as he ended the call and rubbed his forehead wearily. He looked older than his fifty-two years this morning, lines of worry etched deeper into his face.

“Dad?” she said softly. “Another creditor?”

Richard tried for a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart. Just the usual follow-up calls. Nothing for you to worry about right now.”

But Evelyn could see straight through the brave front. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat across from him. “Yesterday you said we had thirty to forty-five days. Has something changed already?”

Her mother, Maria, placed plates of scrambled eggs and toast on the table and joined them, her own expression tight with concern. “One of our biggest clients just informed us they’re delaying payment indefinitely. That single invoice is over two hundred thousand dollars. Combined with the rising interest on our expansion loans… things are tightening faster than we hoped.”

Evelyn’s stomach dropped like a stone. “Two hundred thousand? How are we supposed to cover something like that on short notice?”

Richard sighed, shoulders slumping further. “We still have some breathing room. I have several investor meetings scheduled this week. One of them has solid connections to larger development groups. If even one comes through, it could give us enough stability to keep moving forward. Hayes Construction is still operating. We’re not finished yet.”

Maria reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand tightly. “We’ve faced difficult seasons before, Richard. We’ll get through this one too. Together.”

Evelyn wanted desperately to believe them. She had grown up watching her father pour his blood, sweat, and integrity into building the company from a one-man operation with a battered pickup truck to a respected local firm. It had supported their family through good times and bad, paid for her education, and given her the foundation to chase her dream of becoming a full-time artist. The thought of watching it crumble felt unbearable.

“I can take on more hours at the gallery,” she offered quietly while helping clear the breakfast dishes. “Or look for evening work. I really don’t mind contributing more.”

Her father shook his head firmly. “No, Evelyn. Focus on your job search and your art. Your mother and I will handle the company. You’ve already carried enough worry on your young shoulders.”

But Evelyn couldn’t simply switch off her concern like flipping a page in a book. After breakfast, she left for her shift at the small local gallery. The day passed in a monotonous blur of arranging exhibits, dusting sculptures, and assisting the few customers who wandered in. Yet her thoughts kept drifting back home. During her lunch break, she scrolled through job listings on her phone, sending out yet more applications even though the stream of polite rejections had become painfully routine.

By late afternoon, her phone buzzed with a text from Zara.

Zara: How’s everything going? Still thinking about that cold billionaire from the gala? (^~^)

Evelyn stared at the screen for a long moment before replying.

Evelyn: He barely noticed me. And right now, I have much bigger problems at home.

She deliberately avoided mentioning the debt. Not yet.

As the sun began to set, painting the Brooklyn streets in warm orange hues, Evelyn walked home through her familiar neighborhood. The usual comfort of the tree-lined blocks and corner delis felt fragile today, as though one strong wind could blow it all away. She thought again about Damien Blackwood—his cold gray eyes flicking over her so indifferently after the broken glass. A man like him probably crushed small businesses like her father’s without a second thought.

She shook her head, pushing the image away.

Meanwhile, high above the bustling streets in the towering Blackwood Tower, Damien Blackwood sat in his sleek, minimalist office on the top floor. The Manhattan skyline stretched out behind him like a kingdom he ruled with quiet, unrelenting ruthlessness.

His assistant had placed a new report on his polished desk—a routine overview of small construction firms in promising development zones that could serve as potential acquisition targets or valuable sources of land.

Damien flipped through the file with detached efficiency, his expression cold and unreadable. Most companies barely held his attention for more than a few seconds.

Until he reached the page on Hayes Construction.

A small family-owned business facing serious cash flow issues. Decent assets in prime locations. Nothing particularly remarkable at first glance.

Then his sharp gray eyes landed on the attached background information.

There was a photo.

A young woman with soft features, dark hair, and a simple black cocktail dress. The same girl who had crouched on the ballroom floor picking up broken glass the night before.

Damien paused for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition.

He read the name printed clearly beneath the photograph.

Evelyn Hayes.

Daughter of Richard Hayes, the owner.

For a few seconds longer than necessary, he stared at the picture in silence. The memory of her wide, nervous eyes looking up at him flickered through his mind.

Then, without any visible change in his cold expression, he closed the folder and set it aside.

Nothing more.

Just a fleeting notice.

He turned his attention to far more important matters—multi-million dollar deals, upcoming board meetings, and acquisitions that actually mattered.

Evelyn Hayes was simply another name in a file.

A small, insignificant coincidence.