Transmigrated into My Own Tragic Novel

All Eyes on Her

The hotel’s grand ballroom shimmered with golden light, casting illusions on marble floors as laughter and conversation ebbed and surged like a tide. Evelyn moved silently through the crowd, a ghost in borrowed clothes that didn’t belong in this glittering world. Her eyes swept the room, sharp and searching—for Elma, yes, but more importantly, for Kane.

She needed a stage. A moment. One Elma wouldn’t forget—and one Kane couldn’t ignore.

Just as she neared the main gathering area, a familiar voice, tinged with amused surprise, caught her off guard.

“Betty?”

She turned.

Theo stood there, champagne flute in hand, eyebrows arched with mischievous curiosity as his gaze ran down her plain dress. “Has the Langston family fallen so far that its lady must play housemaid now?”

Evelyn sighed, her voice low and swift. “Mr. Theo, I snuck in.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dipping into something gentler, tinged with the remnants of a past not yet fully extinguished. “For Kane? Or do you… need my ‘protection’ again?”

“Neither,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. Her eyes flicked around them, sharp and alert. “I’m here to handle some trouble. But… I may need a small favor.”

Theo tilted his head, intrigued. “Oh?”

“If you see me with Kane later—no matter what happens—please… just be a quiet spectator,” she said, holding his gaze with quiet intensity.

There was a beat of silence. Then Theo’s grin deepened, amused and intrigued. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, darling, but alright. You have my word.”

But before she could say more, a silken voice cut in, dripping with feigned surprise and thinly veiled mockery.

“Mr. Theo? Betty? The two of you… together?”

Evelyn and Theo turned. Elma stood before them, radiant in a sapphire fishtail gown that clung to her every curve. Her eyes danced between the two of them, finally settling on Evelyn’s humble attire. A flicker of disdain crossed her face, quickly replaced by a cat-like smile—one that said she’d stumbled upon the juiciest gossip.

Of course. She’d heard the rumors. That Kane had “gifted” Betty to Theo.

“Oh my,” Elma giggled, pressing manicured fingers to her lips. “Looks like Mr. Theo and Miss Betty have been enjoying each other’s company quite a bit, hmm? Meeting again so soon—or was this… planned?” Her tone dripped with implication.

Theo gave a lazy smile, neither confirming nor denying, perfectly content to let the theater unfold.

Evelyn, however, kept her composure. “You must be joking, Miss Elma,” she replied smoothly, but her eyes had already moved beyond her—locking onto him.

Kane.

He was turned slightly away, engaged in conversation, his broad shoulders cloaked in tailored black, his presence effortlessly commanding. The entire room bent around him.

Evelyn knew: being with Theo wasn’t enough to provoke Elma. Not yet. Not truly.

But Kane… Kane could.

She took a breath.

Then, ignoring Theo and Elma completely, Evelyn lowered her head. Her voice wavered with what sounded like repressed tears—and then, loud enough to ripple through the immediate crowd:

“Mr. Theo, please… mind yourself! I’m already married to Kane!”

The words landed like a crack of thunder. A few heads turned. One figure paused mid-step.

Kane.

His entire body froze.

And then—his eyes turned. Cold, sharp, lethal. He looked straight at Theo.

Theo’s face went blank.

But Evelyn—she moved.

Like a startled deer, she stumbled forward, eyes wide and glassy, lips trembling with unshed tears. She rushed toward Kane, and before anyone could stop her—

—she fell into his arms.

Gasps rippled through the room as her fingers clutched his expensive lapels, her face burying into the firm plane of his chest. Her body trembled as if holding back sobs, her voice muffled, shaking, achingly pitiful:

“Kane… he… he…”

The room fell into utter silence.

Every pair of eyes stared.

Langston’s wife, poorly dressed and tearful, had just thrown herself into Langston’s arms, accusing Mr. Theo—publicly.

Theo stood frozen, mouth open. And now, at last, he understood what she had meant by a small favor.

Across the room, Elma’s face drained of color. Her smug amusement shattered—replaced by a raw, undeniable fury. She watched, helpless, as Betty, that lowly woman, clung to her Kane in front of everyone. And Kane—he wasn’t pushing her away.

Kane’s body was stiff, caught between shock and something else. Something far more dangerous.

The woman in his arms was soft, trembling. Her fingers gripped him tightly. She smelled faintly of jasmine. Her sobs—so familiar, yet… not quite.

This wasn’t the Betty he knew.

The accusation. The sudden intimacy. It had all come out of nowhere—and yet, it struck him somewhere deep and dark.

His gaze snapped back to Theo.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, his voice as cold as stone.

Theo looked like he’d been slapped. Speechless. Desperate.

And Evelyn—Evelyn smiled.

Just a flicker. Just for herself.

It worked.

She’d touched Kane. Really touched him. And she’d seen it—Elma’s face, contorted with envy and disbelief. The plot had begun to shift.

Still tucked into Kane’s chest, Evelyn whispered, just for him:

“Kane… I’m sorry. I just missed you so much. I thought if I could just see you for a second… I didn’t mean for this to happen…”

And just a few feet away, Elma saw everything.

The soft whispers. The way Kane’s hand hovered near her back, uncertain but not moving away. The intimacy.

She was seething.

Good, Evelyn thought. Burn with jealousy, Elma. The more jealous you are, the faster you’ll make your move.

Let the games begin.