Chapter 2

Evelyn shook uncontrollably, the searing pain in her hands cutting deep, but nothing hurt more than the emptiness in her chest.

She stared at Richard, despair flooding her eyes. Evelyn asked, "Richard, what did I do wrong? Why are you treating me like this?"

"Your mistake was ever coming between Claire and me, and for thinking you could ever mean anything to me," Richard said, his tone icy and merciless. "Get out of my sight. Go back to your room and stop ruining my night."

Evelyn stood frozen in place, her hands and feet ice cold. The blisters on her hands burst, clear fluid mingling with her tears as they dripped onto the floor.

She didn't say another word. Turning away, she dragged herself step by step back to that cold, lonely room.

As the door shut behind her, Evelyn finally slumped to the ground, clutching her burned and blistered hand, weeping soundlessly.

Her heart seized with pain. With trembling hands, Evelyn reached for the bottle on her nightstand, tipped out a few white pills, and swallowed them dry.

The pills tasted bitter, but the ache in her heart was far worse.

That night, the snow fell even harder, blanketing all of Northbridge and burying the last shred of hope Evelyn had left.

Evelyn's hand, after the burn went untreated, got infected and started to rot.

The wound was full of pus, and the pain kept her awake night after night. Evelyn didn't dare say anything, not that anyone would've cared if she did.

Every day, she still got up before dawn to do chores, wait on Claire, and endure Richard's day-after-day mockery and hurtful words.

Claire seemed to relish watching Evelyn in distress, always coming up with new ways to make her life harder.

Sometimes she'd complain her clothes didn't fit and force Evelyn to stay up all night fixing them. Other times, she'd suddenly want pastries from Southgate and make Evelyn trek several miles through the snow to get them.

And sometimes, she'd purposely break Richard's things and pin the blame on Evelyn.

Every single time, Richard never bothered to find out what really happened; he assumed it was Evelyn's fault.

"Evelyn, can't you stand to see Claire happy?"

"Evelyn, how can you be so vicious?"

"Evelyn, if you dare make Claire mad again, I'll throw you out of the Sterling estate and let you freeze to death on the street."

Evelyn had heard those words so many times. At first, they hurt her, then she became numb, and in the end, all that remained was a hollow emptiness inside.

Her health kept spiraling downward. She was always dizzy, barely able to walk straight, and her coughing fits never seemed to end; sometimes, blood would streak her lips.

Evelyn knew her time was running out.

But she still couldn't let go; she couldn't leave Richard behind.

Even if all he ever showed her was hate and hurt, Evelyn still wanted to catch one more glimpse of him.

It was Claire's birthday.

Richard took over the whole hotel for her big birthday bash, inviting all the big names from Northbridge.

He made Evelyn go, too, just to play second fiddle to Claire, serving coffee, fetching drinks, and catering to the guests.

Evelyn stood there in her washed-out old dress, lost among the glamorous crowd like a misfit, a joke to everyone there.

Claire, meanwhile, wore a couture gown from Richard and dazzling jewelry. Everyone flocked around her; her smile was bright and charming.

Claire sauntered over to Evelyn, picked up a glass of red wine, and shoved it into her hand. She said, "Evelyn, it's my birthday. Come on, give me a toast."

Evelyn looked at her, refusing to take the glass.

She couldn't drink it. The doctor said alcohol would only make her heart worse.

"What? You don't want to?" Claire's expression darkened, and she looked at Richard with a pout, playing the victim. She said, "Richard, is Evelyn mad at me or something..."

Richard strode over, grabbed Evelyn's wrist, and shoved the glass into her hand. He said, "Evelyn, toast Claire. Don't be so disrespectful."

Evelyn's wrist hurt from Richard's grip. She met his cold gaze, her heart sinking slowly.

Evelyn lifted the glass; the red wine rippled inside, reflecting her pale face.

"Happy birthday," Evelyn said, her voice barely audible. Then she tilted her head back and drained the glass in one gulp.

The wine burned down her throat, scorching all the way to her chest. Her heart twisted in agony, her face drained of color, and she nearly lost her balance.

Claire gave a satisfied smile, slipped her arm through Richard's, and walked away.

Richard didn't even look at Evelyn, as if she were nothing more than a prop.

Evelyn steadied herself against the wall, slowly shuffled into a corner, then crouched down, clutching her heart in pain as she gasped desperately for breath.

Cold sweat drenched her clothes; her vision flickered in and out. She could feel her life draining away, little by little.

As the party hit its climax, Richard grabbed the mic and looked at Claire, his eyes shining with love. He said, "Claire, happy birthday. You're the only one I'll ever love, and I promise; I'll never let anything hurt you."

Everyone burst into applause and cheers.

Evelyn crouched in the corner, listening to Richard's declaration. Tears slipped down her cheeks, silent and unnoticed in the shadows.

He would only ever love Claire.

And what about me?

Ten years of devotion, ten years of waiting, ten years of lowering myself—did any of it matter?

It was nothing but a cruel joke.

Evelyn braced herself, trying to leave this suffocating place, but as soon as she stood up, everything went black, and she collapsed straight to the floor.

With a heavy thud, her body hit the ground.

The guests glanced over, their expressions twisted with disdain and contempt.

Claire pouted and clung to Richard's arm, saying, "Richard, what's wrong with Evelyn? Is she just putting on a show to ruin my birthday?"

Richard frowned deeply and walked over to Evelyn. She was sprawled on the floor, her face ghostly pale, lips tinged with blue, completely still.

His heart clenched unexpectedly, but he kept up his cold act and said, "Quit playing dead. Get up."

Evelyn lay there, completely unresponsive.

His assistant rushed over, checked Evelyn's breathing, then felt for her pulse. His face went pale. He said, "Mr. Sterling, Ms. Shaw... she's passed out. Her pulse is barely there; this is bad."

Richard's heart sank.

He crouched down, reached out, and touched Evelyn's forehead; it was icy cold. Her hand was freezing, too.

For the first time, a flicker of panic washed over him.

But with Claire in his arms and all the guests watching, Richard forced down that flicker of panic, stood up, and said coldly, "She's not dying. Drag her back to the Sterling estate. Don't make a scene here."

His assistant didn't dare argue. He carefully picked Evelyn up and hurried out of the hotel.