Chapter 3
In the end, Edward left.
His retreating figure was so lost and broken—I'd never seen him look so utterly defeated before.
The lavish carriage slowly pulled away, once again separating itself from the noisy bustle of the street.
I let out a long breath, but my body felt shaky.
Maggie steadied me, her eyes filled with concern.
"Evelyn, was that really your ex-husband?"
I nodded, not saying anything more.
A knot I couldn't undo, a past I wouldn't touch.
All I wanted was a quiet life—just to bring my baby into this world safely and raise my child in peace.
*****
At the Grant Manor, Edward had just stepped through the gates when Charlotte Summers came forward to greet him, her smile gentle and welcoming.
She was clad in an elegant gown of pink silk, her hair adorned with jeweled pins—a far cry from the timid, low-born girl who once trailed behind me.
"You're back, My Lord," Charlotte said, her voice soft and sweet.
"I ran into an old acquaintance today, so I was a bit delayed," Edward replied quietly, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
He headed straight for his study, not even looking at her.
Charlotte's smile froze for a split second, but she quickly slipped back into her usual gentle facade.
She hurried after him, her tone gentle and concerned. "Who was this old acquaintance that left you so unsettled, My Lord?"
Edward stopped.
He turned, his gaze burning straight through her.
"I saw Evelyn."
Charlotte's heart sank, and she clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palm.
But on her face, she managed to look perfectly surprised and concerned.
"Evelyn? Is she... is she alright?
"She insisted on leaving those separation papers and walking away. No matter how much I pleaded with her, she wouldn't stay. I was worried sick about her."
Edward looked at her face, all sweetness and sincerity, but for the first time, a seed of doubt took root in his mind.
When he returned from the front lines, all anyone told him was that Evelyn had been jealous, gotten into a fight with him, and stormed off, leaving the separation papers behind.
And Charlotte, ever thoughtful, had stayed by his side, quietly tending to him.
Back then, he was too heartbroken and worn out to question it—so he just accepted it as the truth.
But he couldn't remember ever signing any papers.
And after seeing Evelyn today—aloof and detached—there wasn't even a hint of jealousy in her.
Especially that belly of hers...
If the timing matched, and the child was his...
A crushing weight pressed on Edward's chest, making each breath a labor.
"I need some time alone," he said, his voice low and heavy.
He waved her off and locked himself away in his study.
Charlotte stood outside the door, her sweet smile shattering bit by bit, replaced by a look full of venom.
Evelyn!
How was that bitch still alive?
And she was pregnant!
No way. Over her dead body would Evelyn ever come back to the Grant Manor.
She'd fought tooth and nail to become Lady Grant, and there was no way she'd let anyone take that away from her.
*****
The next day, a few unwelcome guests showed up at my stall.
They were a bunch of street punks, slouching around with sleazy smirks plastered across their faces.
"Hey there, pretty lady, how much for your cotton candy?"
The leader flashed a greasy grin, checking me out from head to toe, his gaze lingering shamelessly on my belly.
I tensed up, taking a step back, wary of their intentions.
"Five pence each," I replied.
"That much? Seriously?"
The guy cackled and suddenly reached out, trying to snatch the cotton candy from my hand.
"Why don't I just try it myself and see if it's as sweet as you say?"
I quickly dodged, but he smacked the skewer right out of my hand.
The cotton candy I'd just made dropped to the ground, instantly picking up a layer of dust.
"What do you want?" I barked, forcing myself to stay calm.
The other vendors could tell something was wrong, but with those thugs acting tough, nobody dared to step in.
"What do we want?
"Someone paid us to kick you out of here."
The guy let out a sleazy laugh, moving closer to me with every step.
"They said you're just some sketchy woman, messing up the street and giving the place a bad name."
My heart sank.
Who could it be?
Was it Edward?
He just showed up yesterday, and now he was already sending people to drive me out?
Was he really going to be this ruthless?
Before I could even react, the guy suddenly shoved me.
"Get lost!" he snapped.
The force of the shove hit me like a ton of bricks.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my belly and crashed backward.
The stall's frame went down with a loud crash.
The freshly made syrup splashed everywhere, cotton candy and skewers strewn all over the place.
My palm burned from the scrape, thanks to the sharp gravel digging into my skin.
I was utterly miserable—pathetic and helpless.
Flat on the ground, I stared at the mess. All my hard work, ruined in a heartbeat.
The tears finally broke free.
But it wasn't because I felt pitiful—it was pure rage burning inside me.
Why?
I just wanted to survive by my own hands. Why did I have to suffer like this?
"Stop!" Maggie's voice thundered through the chaos.
She and a few of the other vendors—guys I knew well—rushed over, wielding poles and weighing scales, ready to stand up for me.
"You bullies, picking on a woman!
"Get lost, or we're calling the cops!"
The punks cursed and spat, but didn't dare start anything—they just took off running.
Things finally quieted down.
Maggie gently helped me up, her eyes rimmed with worry as she saw the blood on my palm.
"Those damned bastards!
"We've got your back, Evelyn. Don't be afraid," she said.
I looked at the mess scattered across the ground, then glanced at the fellow vendors crowding around me, worry etched on their faces.
I sniffled, holding back my tears.
I grabbed a clean strip of cloth and wrapped it tightly around my injured hand.
Then I bent down and carefully picked up the bamboo skewers that were still usable, one by one.
Let them wreck my stall if they wanted—it didn't matter.
But I wouldn't fall. My backbone and dignity were unbreakable.