Always make you mine

Episode Six

The following morning arrived wrapped in a heavy silence that had become all too familiar in the Hayes household.

Evelyn woke earlier than usual, the weight of her family’s troubles pressing down on her before she had even fully opened her eyes. She could hear her father already on the phone downstairs in the living room, his voice low and strained as he negotiated with yet another creditor. Fragments of words drifted up the stairs like ghosts: “extension,” “cash flow,” “please give us more time.”

She dressed quickly in a comfortable oversized sweater and jeans, then went downstairs. Her mother was in the kitchen, moving mechanically as she prepared breakfast while casting anxious glances toward the living room.

“Morning,” Evelyn said softly, pouring herself a cup of strong coffee.

Maria forced a smile that didn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes. “Good morning, honey. Did you manage to sleep at all?”

“Not really.” Evelyn sat at the table, watching her mother c***k eggs into the sizzling pan. “How bad was last night after I went to bed?”

Her mother sighed deeply. “Your father stayed up until three in the morning. Another supplier is now threatening to halt all deliveries if we don’t clear the overdue balance by the end of next week. We’re now looking at twenty-six days before the bank takes more aggressive action.”

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her warm mug until her fingers ached. Twenty-six days. The number felt smaller and more terrifying every time it was spoken aloud.

When her father finally joined them at the table, he looked utterly exhausted. Dark shadows haunted his eyes. “I have three more investor meetings scheduled for today and tomorrow. One of them sounded somewhat promising over the phone, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high.”

Evelyn wanted to offer concrete solutions, but every idea that came to mind felt painfully inadequate. She had already sent out more job applications late into the night, but meaningful responses remained slow and mostly negative. Her part-time hours at the gallery barely covered her own modest expenses, let alone provided any real help to her family’s mounting crisis.

“I wish I could do more,” she said quietly, voice thick with frustration.

Richard reached over and patted her hand gently. “You’re already doing enough by being here and staying strong for us, Evelyn. This is my mess to clean up. I built Hayes Construction with my own two hands. I’ll find a way to save it.”

The breakfast conversation remained tense but hopeful on the surface. Beneath the carefully chosen words, however, fear simmered like a pot ready to boil over.

Meanwhile, high above the chaotic city streets in the sleek, minimalist offices of Blackwood Tower, Damien Blackwood sat behind his large mahogany desk. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a commanding, almost godlike view of Manhattan—a kingdom he ruled with cold precision and unwavering control.

His assistant, Martin Kane, entered the room carrying a fresh folder with efficient, quiet movements.

“Sir, the updated report on Hayes Construction you requested,” Martin said, placing the file precisely on the desk.

Damien leaned back in his leather chair, his expression as cold and distant as ever. He opened the folder and began scanning the contents with clinical detachment.

Hayes Construction was a small family-owned business with decent land holdings in promising development zones. Their rapidly deteriorating financial situation made them increasingly vulnerable—exactly the kind of target Blackwood Group occasionally acquired for strategic expansion and asset consolidation.

As Damien flipped through the pages, his sharp gray eyes paused once again on the attached background information.

There she was again.

A clear, recent photo of Evelyn Hayes.

The same young woman he had seen at the gala, then at the restaurant, and whose name now appeared repeatedly in these reports.

He read the details again: Evelyn Hayes, twenty-three years old, daughter of the owner. Fine arts graduate. Currently working part-time at a small local gallery. No significant business experience or powerful connections.

Damien studied the photograph for several seconds longer than necessary. Three encounters in such a short span of time. A minor pattern, but one that a calculated man like him could not entirely ignore.

Martin waited patiently nearby. “Shall I dig deeper, sir?”

Damien closed the file with a soft, decisive snap, his face betraying absolutely no emotion.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice low and icy. “Run a full, discreet background check on the entire family and the company. I want complete financial history, outstanding debts, any hidden assets or liabilities. Tell me exactly how close they are to default.”

“Understood, sir. Is this purely business interest?”

Damien’s gaze drifted briefly to the glittering Manhattan skyline before returning to his assistant. “Calculated interest. The land parcels could prove useful for the waterfront project. Nothing more.”

Martin nodded once and left the office without further comment.

Alone again, Damien leaned back, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The repeated sightings of Evelyn Hayes were curious coincidences, but they did not move him emotionally. She was simply a variable attached to a potentially valuable asset.

He pushed the file to the side of his desk and turned his full attention to far more pressing matters—a multi-billion dollar merger that demanded his immediate focus.

Evelyn Hayes and her father’s struggling company had been noted.