Chapter 3
Susan stood at the doorway, the crescent moon necklace that was supposed to be mine hanging prominently around her neck.
She hadn't even bothered to change out of that striking evening gown, still wrapped in Charles's coat as she strolled in with a casual, deliberate elegance.
The moment she saw me, Susan gave me a pitying smile, confident she'd already won.
"Eve, sorry about this, but Mr. Rivers left his spare phone in my car. Last night, when we were watching the fireworks by the river, he put it in the passenger seat while taking photos for me," Susan said.
As she spoke, Susan set the phone down on the coffee table, her eyes blatantly scanning my old white dress with contempt, then she scoffed at me.
Susan said, "Eve, I tried to convince Mr. Rivers to come back and celebrate your twenty-eighth birthday with you.
"After all, women your age are the most likely to worry about getting older."
"But Mr. Rivers said you're too boring. Every birthday, all you do is eat cake and draw. You're like a statue,
"Last night, when he was holding me by the river, he said only I could spark his creativity for the Homeward project."
I looked at Charles.
He lingered nearby, lighting a cigarette, the curling smoke blurring his face and making it impossible to read his expression.
He didn't bother to stop Susan. Instead, he looked at me with that cold, judging gaze of his.
"Susan's right," Charles said.
He blew out a slow ring of smoke, his voice cold as ice.
Charles said, "Evelyn, you're just too stiff and old-fashioned.
"Your designs are as lifeless and stagnant as your personality. They do not fit today's younger market at all."
"I put Susan in your place so this project could actually survive.
"Tomorrow at the press conference, be smart and stay in the shadows backstage. Let Susan have all the glory.
"That's the sacrifice you should make as the future Mrs. Rivers."
Susan laughed behind her hand, her eyes shining with undisguised malice and contempt.
Susan said, "Eve, smart people know when to step aside. So what if you've stuck by Mr. Rivers for eight years?
"You can't have kids, and you can't help him with his business. The only thing you're good for now is quietly handing over the credit to me.
"If Mr. Rivers loses his temper, you won't even be able to step in the Rivers family home."
I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, staring at the two of them in my living room, their words slicing me apart.
In that moment, my blood turned cold, inch by inch, then boiled with fury, inch by inch.
Charles frowned. "Susan."
Susan immediately pressed her lips together and dipped her head in a quick, casual nod.
"Eve, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say those things," she said.
Charles removed his coat from Susan's shoulders and handed it back to her. "It's late. Have the driver take you home."
Susan looked at me. "Eve, are you coming to the press conference tomorrow? Mr. Rivers said you know the fireworks process better than anyone. It's my first time being the main speaker, and honestly, I'm feeling pretty unsure about it."
That was when it finally hit me, Charles hadn't sent that message by mistake.
Charles avoided my eyes, his voice calm and distant. "It's just a last-minute change. Susan fits the public image better. You'll be backstage, making sure everything runs smoothly. Your role matters just as much."
I looked at him. "So you want me at the press conference just to cover for her?"
"Don't put it like that," Charles said, tossing his coat onto the sofa arm. "If the project succeeds, everyone benefits."
Susan said softly, "Eve, please don't blame Mr. Rivers. This is my fault. I just wanted to prove myself, not have everyone say I'm only here because Mr. Rivers looks after me."
As she said this, her fingers absentmindedly played with the crescent moon pendant around her neck.
It was as if she were deliberately reminding me that last night's fireworks and that necklace were both props she used to prove herself.
Out of nowhere, a wave of exhaustion washed over me.
Charles seemed to relax a little when I stayed quiet. "I'll have the driver pick you up at ten tomorrow. Bring the ignition card, and make sure nothing goes wrong."
"What if I don't go?" I asked.
He looked at me, his voice low but full of that usual authority. "You'll go, Eve. You're not someone who forgets what's important."
All these years, Charles was a master at making my willingness to yield sound like a strength.
"Sensible," "dignified," "knows her place", he used those words to pin me right where he needed me.
After Susan left, Charles didn't stick around either.
He answered a call, grabbed his car keys, and said, "I've got things to handle at the office. I won't be home tonight. Get some rest, and don't let your mind wander."
After the door closed, I sat down on the sofa and pulled the blue ignition card out of my bag.
On the back of the card, a faint black line slashed right across my name, Eve. It felt like someone couldn't stand seeing that old promise anymore, so they crossed it out.
I turned on my laptop, logged into the cloud drive, and downloaded the original fireworks program package.
Inside the folder, I spotted an unfamiliar version titled "Homeward Final Version Susan."
It had been uploaded at 8:17 last night.
At that exact time, I was sitting in a riverside restaurant, and the candle in front of me had just been changed for the second time.
I opened the file and saw that the opening sequence had been changed. The original blue-and-gold ship-shaped fireworks had been replaced with a crescent moon. There was a note in the comments section.
[Susan's Birthday Surprise Edition, to be used for the Homeward project launch as well.]
At the end of the document, there was an electronic note from Charles.
Charles's note read: [Go with this one. She likes it.]
I stared at that short note for what felt like forever, my fingers growing colder with every second.
My phone lit up with a confirmation letter from the wedding planner.
The wedding planner's message read: [Ms. Lane: If you decide to cancel the engagement, please confirm by 9 AM tomorrow. The venue can be reserved for a private dinner instead.]
Just as I was about to reply, a faint sound came from the study.
I glanced over and saw Charles's spare phone on the table, its screen glowing.
A new message flashed across the display.
[Mr. Rivers, should we announce the wedding date as planned after tomorrow's press conference, or wait until Ms. Ray takes the stage?]