Chapter 3

When she saw me, she stood up and gave a greeting. "Hi, Evelyn. I'm Olivia Wynn, Jonathan's colleague."

Colleague, huh.

I smiled and sat down across from her.

Vivian spoke up, "Evelyn, Olivia is the design consultant for Jonathan's new project. She'll be coming over often to discuss work. I wanted to let you know ahead of time so you wouldn't get the wrong idea."

I picked up the coffee the butler had brought and took a sip. "Mom, I won't overthink it. I don't understand work stuff."

Vivian's lips twitched slightly, clearly pleased with my answer.

Olivia sat back down, turned her head to glance at Jonathan, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent.

Jonathan didn't look at me once.

He didn't look at Olivia.

He was staring at his phone.

"Alright then," Vivian said, setting down her cup. "Let's all have dinner together tonight."

*****

At dinner, Olivia was on her best behavior.

She made small talk with me and asked what I liked to do for fun.

I replied, "Spending money."

Olivia blinked, then burst out laughing. "Evelyn, you're hilarious."

Vivian's face fell. "Evelyn, if you're bored, why not learn some design from Olivia? She has won an international award."

I picked up a piece of meat and chewed slowly. "Really? What award was that?"

Olivia's face showed a flash of pride, but she quickly pretended to be modest. "Just the Emerging Designer at last year's Valoria Design Week. It's nothing special."

"Oh," I said.

I didn't ask any more questions.

The Emerging Designer Award at Valoria Design Week was not a big deal.

Because last year, there was an anonymous judge on the panel with the codename "Nightshade."

That person was me.

*****

After dinner, I got up to leave.

Vivian stopped me. "Evelyn, you and Jonathan need to spend more time together. You've been married for five years, and people are starting to talk. It looks bad."

I turned and glanced at her. "Mom, relax. I won't let the Reed family look bad."

Vivian's expression softened a bit.

I left the living room and headed out into the yard.

I heard footsteps following behind me.

"Evelyn," Olivia followed me out.

She stood on the steps, the moonlight softening her outline.

"Evelyn, thanks for not giving me a hard time today," she said.

I stopped and turned to look at her. "Why would I make things difficult for you?"

She pressed her lips together, her gaze testing me. "I heard you used to be a senior executive at Reed Holdings, but then you left."

"Yeah, I did."

"Why did you quit?"

I paused, then smiled, "Because I was tired."

Olivia watched me, trying to see if I was being honest.

I didn't want to keep the conversation going, so I waved her off. "Go back inside. It's cold out here."

I walked over to my car and opened the door.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Jenny Collins. [Evelyn, the client for the villa project is coming to the studio tomorrow afternoon to check out the plans. Are you coming?]

I typed back. [I'll be there.]

*****

Jenny's studio was hidden away in a quiet alley in the Eastside District, with no sign out front.

When I pushed open the deep gray wooden door, I stepped into a spacious over 3,200 square feet open studio, with white walls, natural wood tables, and a row of trees outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

This was one of the most valuable assets I owned.

Not because the property itself was expensive, but because every project that left this studio started at one million dollars.

"Evelyn." Jenny jumped up from her desk when she saw me.

She was three years younger than me, with short hair, big eyes, and she never stopped talking.

"The client is coming at three. He is a real estate guy, Michael Grant, who specializes in luxury villas. This project is up in the mountains, and there's no cap on the budget," Jenny said.

I set my bag down and sat at my desk, flipping through the files. "Does he know who I am?"

"Nope. Same as always, I'll handle him. I'll say our design director is Nightshade, who never meets clients in person."

I nodded.

For five years, no one in the industry had a clue who Nightshade was.

All they knew was that the name meant a style: minimalist, composed, with every line perfectly balanced.

Some guessed it was a man in his fifties. Others thought it was an overseas-educated team of architects.

No one ever imagined it was me, Evelyn Carter, Jonathan's wife, who walked away from Reed Holdings and was famous for nothing but spending money.