Chapter 3
"Give these to Mr. Reed," I said, handing him the papers. "Tell him that as of today, Evelyn is gone."
Carson hesitated, not taking the papers. Before he could react, his phone started ringing.
He picked up, speaking with utmost respect, "Mr. Reed. Yes, Mrs. Reed is awake. What? Understood, I'll take care of it right away."
After hanging up, he looked at me, something conflicted in his eyes. "Mr. Reed said you should stay and recover for another week. After that, he'll come to pick you up from the hospital."
Pick me up from the hospital? Was he planning to make me Claire's lifetime blood donor? Or maybe he wanted me to watch them play house in what used to be our bedroom.
I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks.
"No need," I said, brushing away my tears as I pulled back the blanket and got out of bed.
My legs were so weak that they felt like jelly, and I had to lean against the wall to stay upright.
"Tell Jonathan..." I paused, my gaze drifting to the window.
Outside, the city's bustling streets were alive with traffic and neon lights flashing. Down below, an ambulance pulled up to the hospital, its siren shrieking.
The world never stopped for anyone's pain.
"Tell him," I said, turning to Carson, locking eyes with him, her voice icy and deliberate. "I'll carry this hemostat with me for the rest of my life.
"And when the day comes that Jonathan ends up on my operating table, I'll make sure to make him pay for it."
With that, I leaned on the wall for support and slowly made my way out of the hospital room, step by step.
Behind me came the nurse's shocked cry, the doctor's urgent pleas, and Carson scrambling to make a phone call.
But I never looked back.
The hallway felt endless, as if I were walking through a decade that would never end.
But finally, I made it to the end.
The elevator doors opened. No one was inside.
I stepped in and hit the button for the first floor.
The metal doors slid shut, and my reflection stared back, pale, gaunt, with two dark flames smoldering in my eyes.
Goodbye, Evelyn. Goodbye to the fool who loved Jonathan for ten years, who humbled herself to nothing but dust beneath his feet.
The elevator started going down.
As that weightless feeling took over, I ran my hand over my stomach. There was nothing left, just a nasty scar and that hemostat, stuck inside me for good.
Forgive me, my baby. I failed to keep you safe. But I swore to you. None of those who ever hurt us would escape.
Five years later, at the Grand Palace, it was the final minute of Fashion Week's closing show, and the air backstage was tense.
Thirty-seven models, fifteen stylists, and nine assistants were packed into the tight space, yet it was so quiet that they could only hear the soft rustle of fabric.
"Ms. Hart, thirty seconds," Emily, my assistant, called out, her voice shaking. I couldn't tell if she was excited or nervous.
I stood before the full-length mirror, giving my dress one last inspection.
The deep burgundy silk gown cut diagonally from my right shoulder to my left waist, exposing my collarbone and shoulder blade, and the fierce scar below.
But now, gold embroidery covered the scar, turning it into a phoenix soaring through fire.
The phoenix's eye was a three-carat black diamond, set right at the spot where the surgeon's blade first touched me.
"Good," I murmured, my fingers tracing the outline of the phoenix.
It had been five years.
This scar had never healed. It had taken root inside me, growing twisted vines and bearing poisonous blossoms.
But tonight, I was going to make it my crown.
"Ms. Hart..." Emily faltered, her voice uncertain. "Mr. Reed from Reed Group is in the front row of the VIP section. He went through the show guide and asked for you by name."
I kept applying my lipstick, not missing a beat.
The vivid red glided across my lips, like blood, like fire.
"I won't see him," I said.
"But he—"
"Emily," I turned to her, smiling. "Do you remember the first lesson I taught you?"
She froze for a moment and then straightened her back. "Yes. In Evelyn's world, there's no 'but.' There's only 'do it' and 'get lost'."
"Good." I put down my lipstick. "Now, go out there and tell the world..."
The music suddenly changed.
The heavy orchestration faded, replaced by an ethereal female voice, like an ancient lament, or the song of rebirth rising from ashes.
This was exactly the effect I wanted: using sound to rip apart the glittering facade and expose the bleeding reality beneath.
"Time to step into the spotlight." I lifted my skirt and strode toward the runway door.
Outside, applause erupted, blinding flashbulbs exploded, and countless ravenous eyes watched.
Inside, I carried the armor I'd spent five years forging, and a heart that had stopped beating for anyone long ago.
The door flung open, and light flooded in.
The instant my foot touched the runway, the whole venue went dead silent.
Three seconds.
Five seconds.
Then, a tidal wave of gasps, camera shutters, and hushed whispers swept through the venue.
"Whoa, is that..."
"That tattoo under her collarbone. Is that a surgical scar?"
"So that's why Evelyn's been missing for three years."
I tuned it all out, eyes locked forward, my stride calm and unshakable, like I was gliding through my own home.
The spotlight tracked me, the burgundy silk rippling under the lights like blood. The golden phoenix on my dress rose and fell with every breath, looking ready to tear free and take flight at any second.
When I reached the end of the runway, I paused.
As I turned, I couldn't help but glance at the front row of the VIP section.
Jonathan was seated dead center.
Five years had passed, and he looked almost unchanged. No, he had changed, somehow.
There were new lines at the corners of his eyes, a few strands of gray at his temples, and that old, disdainful arrogance had settled into something icier, steelier.
He was dressed in a bespoke black suit, a glass of champagne in his hand, his knuckles white from gripping it so tightly.
His gaze was locked on me. No, on the phoenix on my collarbone. On the scar.
Our gazes collided in midair. One second. Two seconds.
The champagne glass in his hand exploded in his grip.
The crisp sound of shattering glass rang out, harsh and jarring in the silent hall.
The amber champagne splashed across his expensive suit, and glass shards scattered all around his feet.
Carson hurried to his side, but he dismissed him with a sharp gesture. He stood up.