Chapter 4

About one hundred feet of runway lay between us. During the five years, a life was taken, and an unborn child was lost to the past.

Jonathan's eyes locked onto mine, his lips parted as if to speak.

There was no sound. But I understood him. He was saying, "Evelyn."

I gave him a flawless smile, the kind only Evelyn the designer could pull off.

Then I raised my hand, gently pressing it over the phoenix's eye, the black diamond, making sure he saw it staring right back at him.

The music surged to its peak, flooding the hall with raw emotion.

I turned, my skirt sweeping through the air in a sharp arc, like a blade stained with blood.

On my walk back down the runway, I moved slowly. Slow enough for everyone to take in the intricate design on my back, from shoulder blade to waist, silver thread densely embroidered with a barrage of medical symbols: Heartbeat waves, scalpels, clamps, chemical formulas.

At the bottom, in tiny script, was a single line: [To the one who cut me open and left a hemostat in my belly.]

The audience sucked in a breath, stunned.

People started whispering, some grabbed their phones to search like crazy, and others shot glances at Jonathan in the VIP section.

He was still standing there, looking ghostly pale.

I finally reached the backstage entrance.

Just as the door was about to close, I heard a small, childish voice call out from the wings. "Mommy."

The spotlight snapped over.

By the stage wing, my two kids were standing there, holding hands.

Leo Hart, my five-year-old, was dressed in a tiny suit with a bow tie, his short blond hair perfectly styled. Those golden eyes calmly swept over the crowd.

Lila Hart, my four-year-old, wore a matching mini red dress, her midnight blue hair tied up in two little buns. She waved her small hand at me.

The whole place went dead silent.

Then, all hell broke loose.

The sound of camera shutters was so loud that it felt like the roof might blow off. Reporters swarmed the side of the stage like sharks scenting blood, and the security wall was buckling under the pressure.

The live stream cameras locked onto the two kids, and their faces instantly filled the giant screen, drawing everyone's attention.

Two strikingly exquisite little faces. Two sets of identical golden eyes.

They looked like the man in the VIP section, as if they were his mirror image.

I hurried over, crouched down, and gathered both kids into my arms.

"Didn't I tell you to wait in the lounge?" I whispered, pressing my forehead gently against Lila's.

"Leo said it's our turn to go on stage." Lila wrapped her arms around my neck, her voice soft as she clung to me. "You said you're gonna take down the bad guy tonight, so Leo and I came to help."

I glanced at Leo.

He pressed his lips together, that icy glint in his golden eyes, way too grown-up for a five-year-old. "Mommy, did he see it?"

"He saw it," I replied.

"What was his face like?"

"Like he'd seen a ghost."

Leo nodded, satisfied, and pulled out a tiny tablet from his pocket. On the screen, the Reed Group's stock price was crashing hard today. "This is just the beginning."

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Let's go. The press conference is about to start."

With both kids in my arms, I headed back toward the door that led straight into the storm.

This time, in the middle of all that noise, one voice rang out above the rest.

It was Jonathan, shouting my name. "Evelyn."

I didn't stop. I pushed the door open and walked out.

Flashbulbs popped everywhere, flooding the world in blinding light.

Standing at the heart of the runway, kids in my arms, I felt as exposed as I did five years ago on that operating table, laid bare for everyone to see.

But this time, I was the one wielding the blade.

Reporters practically jammed their mics in my face.

"Ms. Hart, are these your kids?"

"Who's their father?"

"What's the story behind that scar under your collarbone?"

"What's your relationship with Mr. Reed from Reed Group?"

The questions came at me like bullets.

I shifted Lila in my arms, making sure the cameras caught her big, innocent eyes, and Leo's face, a dead ringer for Jonathan.

Then, I turned to the nearest live stream camera and flashed a smile. "The children are mine. As for their father..."

I paused, scanning the crowd until my eyes zeroed in on the man fighting to break through the wall of security.

Jonathan's face contorted between fury and agonizing disbelief, the pain unmistakable.

His eyes were glued to the children in my arms, fixated on Leo's golden eyes.

I spoke slowly, my voice carried to every corner of the venue through the mic, "He's dead."

The whole place erupted in chaos.

I added, my tone light, as if I were just chatting about the weather, "He's been gone for a long time."

A camera hit the floor with a loud thud.

Jonathan stood there, frozen, as if he'd just been struck by lightning.

Right then, Lila hugged my neck even tighter, her sweet, unmistakable voice carrying across the entire venue as she asked, "Mommy, why is that man crying?"

I stroked her hair, then locked eyes with Jonathan's bloodshot gaze and gave him a calm smile.

"That's not crying, sweetheart. That's the retribution finally coming."

The celebration party was held at a century-old hotel right next to the runway, where crystal chandeliers threw a glamorous, intoxicating light over everything.

I stood at the edge of the terrace, champagne in hand, watching the reporters and onlookers lingering below in the square, refusing to disperse.

They were like vultures drawn by the scent of blood, circling and waiting for an even grander demise.

"Mom." Leo gently tugged the hem of my dress.

I looked down, his little face tilted up at me, golden eyes practically glowing in the night. "He's here."

No need to ask who "he" was. The commotion coming from down the hallway said it all.

There were hurried footsteps, security guards trying to hold him back, the sound of things crashing and shattering, and that voice I'd heard for ten years, etched into my very soul, roaring, "Get away. Evelyn, come out here."

I took a sip of champagne, the sweet, bitter liquid sliding down my throat.

"Where's Lila?" I asked.

"She's in the lounge, playing with her Legos," Leo said, pausing, his face tightening with concern. "Mom, should I call the police?"

I smiled and bent down to straighten his little bow tie. "No need. Some things need to be settled in person."

Before I could finish, the glass doors to the terrace burst open with a bang.

Jonathan stormed in.