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“Mr. Voss, please destroy all the wedding invitations I ordered earlier.”
“The wedding will still take place–only the groom will be different.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. It’s just a wedding, and Adrian is not my only choice.”
After learning about Adrian Whitmore’s plan to fake his death, Eveline neither cried nor made a scene. She simply went downstairs alone and summoned Mr. Voss, the family butler.
In a few brief words, she calmed the man who had watched her grow up. After hanging up, she stared at the diamond ring on her finger.
Just an hour ago, Adrian, her childhood sweetheart, had proposed to her with this ring. It was a rare
ten–carat pink diamond, with the letter Q engraved on the inside of the band.
Adrian had told her that he had personally designed and crafted it, spending seven years on it. It should have been proof of how much he loved her.
However…
The “her” in that story was not Eveline Ashford.
It was Maria Quinn, his “first love,” a former performer once signed under the Whitmore Group. If Maria
had not refused it, this ring would never have ended up on Eveline’s hand.
It seemed the rumors from years ago had not been unfounded.
Thinking back to what she had just seen and heard, Eveline gave a bitter smile and slipped the ring from her finger; it had never fit. She still did not know how to begin ending a relationship that would conclude
with a lie.
“Eveline, why are you standing out here in the cold? The doctor said you’re not supposed to let your leg get
chilled.”
Adrian’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
A moment later, his familiar scent reached her as he draped a coat over her shoulders. He had taken it off himself, and now, taking her hand, he smiled at her with practiced gentleness.
“Come on. I’ll take you to the nursing home so we can share our good news with Grandpa. Maybe hearing
it will make him feel a little better…”
“Adrian.”
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She did not want to listen any further and cut him off directly. When she looked up, her eyes met his, filled with what seemed to be affection.
For an instant, she hesitated.
It almost felt as though everything that had happened earlier had been an illusion.
Today was her birthday, and also the seventh anniversary of her relationship with Adrian.
Because of her grandfather’s illness, they had skipped the proposal and engagement ceremony, going straight to setting a wedding date. Even so, Adrian had kept his plans from her and prepared a surprise proposal.
When he knelt on one knee, she had naively believed she was the happlest woman alive.
Until she stepped out to take a call, and, when returning to the private room, heard his voice.
“…I know this will be cruel to her, but I can’t let Maria watch me marry another woman.”
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“So I won’t attend the wedding. That day, I’ll arrange a plane crash and disappear, letting everyone think I’m dead. You’re my friends–you must keep this from her.”
“This proposal is my way of making up for the seven years I gave her. At least the ring was something I put effort into…”
Before he could finish, another voice interrupted.
“Don’t start. That ring was just something your little girlfriend didn’t want, and you passed it to her.”
“Adrian, you’ve already crossed the line. Faking your death is one thing, but using her father as your
excuse? That’s unacceptable.”
“That’s right. Even if she knew someone died retrieving her father’s remains, she wouldn’t be indifferent.”
“You grew up together, for God’s sake! How can you trap her with your ‘death‘ for life?”
She couldn’t recall how she’d kept her composure long enough to text Martin Whitmore, Adrian’s uncle.
But Adrian’s words burned in her memory:
“She’ll move on.”
“What choice do I have? You know she nearly died saving me last time. If I don’t ‘die‘ in that desert, she’ll tear the world apart to find me.”
“I guess we could call it a kind lie. Truthfully? I think my death would destroy her less than knowing I never
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loved her.”
“If the plan blows up, you must contain her. Maria’s health is fragile–no more setbacks.”
Every word scraped like rusted steel across her heart.
Maria couldn’t handle the slightest distress–but when it came to Eveline, he acted as if her pain didn’t
matter.
Everyone knew the deser was her personal hell–it was where her father had died.
Yet he’d rip open those wounds for another woman. He’d stage a spectacular death to imprison her in
what should be joy.
He never pictured her standing alone before their guests.
He never considered her believing he’d died searching for her father’s bones.
Was it really a ‘kind‘ lie–or just selfish delusion dressed up as compassion?
Did he think her strength meant she deserved this agony?
The thought choked her.
Still, her fingers whitened around the ring as she met Adrian’s eyes, voice fraying.
“…Adrian, that story about retrieving my father’s remains… was any of it true?”
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