Chapter 2

Charles's face darkened.

Vivian's smile faltered as she stepped forward, positioning herself directly in front of me. "Ms. Shaw, Charles is just trying to help."

She carried a soft jasmine perfume, totally at odds with the warm, woodsy scent I usually use.

"Is that so?" I looked at her. "So, should I be grateful to him for giving me what others don't want?"

Howard looked utterly pissed, and Vivian went pale, too.

She said, "You got him wrong, Ms. Shaw. Mr. Grant—"

"Ms. Quinn, since you're so considerate, why don't you finish the dinner for me?" I grabbed my bag from the table. "Mr. Sterling, you can take care of the bill, right?"

I spun on my heel, only for a brutal grip to seize my wrist and drag me back.

Charles leaned in, voice low against my ear. "Evelyn, don't go too far."

I didn't turn around. My voice was cool, clear. "Charles, do you even realize what you look like right now?

"You look like a dog that totally flips out the second you nail its weak spot."

I could feel his grip tighten instantly, his fingers digging into my wrist so hard that it felt like he might crush it.

People all across the restaurant were staring.

Vivian hurried over, trying to smooth things over. "Charles, let her go. Don't do this."

She tried to pull his hand away, but he snapped his arm back, shaking her off.

Charles locked his gaze on me, his eyes blazing with fury. "Say that again."

I enunciated each word, making sure he heard every syllable. "I said you look ridiculous right now."

Just then, my phone rang.

I fished it out with my free hand and glanced at the screen.

It was a number I knew by heart, even though I never saved it in my contacts.

I answered it right in front of Charles.

A voice, aged yet commanding, came through the line. "Evelyn, it's me."

It was Charles' father, Martin Sterling.

I gripped my phone tightly. "Hi, Mr. Sterling."

"Come by Sterling Manor tomorrow. Let's have a game of chess," he said.

Charles' expression shifted in an instant.

He let go of my hand like it was burning him.

I hung up, slipped my phone back into my bag, and didn't spare him another glance.

"Enjoy your time here," I said.

As I stepped out of the restaurant, the evening breeze brushed against my face, carrying a hint of chill.

I didn't head straight home. Instead, I wandered aimlessly along the riverbank.

Martin liked me for my chess skills; or more precisely, for my ability to replicate any game with perfect precision.

I could flawlessly replay any game I'd seen, including every match ever played by his late wife, a former national champion.

I was his tool to remember his late wife. I was also a piece he used to keep Charles in line.

As for Charles, he hated me.

I showed up at Sterling Manor right on time the next day.

Martin was already seated on the chessboard, dressed in a tailored suit, looking sharp and full of energy.

"Hey, come here," he said.

He gestured to the seat across from him.

I sat down and picked up a chess piece. "Mr. Sterling, which match are we replaying today?"

"No," Martin said, waving his hand. "This time, we play our own game."

I was caught off guard.

He made the opening move with steady precision. "Did Charles act up again yesterday?"

I froze for a moment before moving. "It's okay. Every couple fights."

"A fight?" Martin snorted. "I heard he pawned you off on someone like Howard, all for that Vivian who just got back from abroad."

His style on the chessboard was ruthless, closing in on me at every turn.

He said, "You've stuck by Charles for three years. I've noticed everything. You're a good girl, he's not a good man.

"I've always known that brat was hard to deal with, but now he thinks he's grown and won't listen to a word I say. All I can do is stand back and let him be."

I stayed silent and simply made my move.

"I always thought that, given enough time, he'd finally see who truly loves him," Martin said. "Now it seems that he is just too blind."

By the middle of the match, his pieces had boxed in my position so tightly that my king had almost nowhere left to run.

"You've got a good heart, but you're too soft. You need to stand up for yourself," Martin said.

He looked at the chessboard, but it felt like he was talking about more than just the game.

"Sometimes, giving in doesn't earn you respect. It just makes people take advantage of you," he said.

He lifted his white queen and brought it down with finality, cutting off the last escape my king had left.

"I lost," I said softly, looking at the board.

"Yeah, you lost," Martin said, lifting his cup. "A game can always be restarted, and so can life."

He set his cup down and fixed his gaze on me.

"You're coming to my birthday next month as my goddaughter," he announced.

I snapped my head up. "Mr. Sterling—"