Evelyn stared at Damian.
Her eyes locked onto the reflection of the burning flame in his.
“What do you think?” she asked, lifting one of her brow slightly.
There was no tease in her gaze.
She wasn’t doing this to get back at him.
She was doing it for herself.
Her expression hardened as her fingers tightened around the intricately detailed lighter in her hand.
“Damian, I wouldn’t allow any of your lies to seep into me anymore.”
With that, she released the lighter.
It fell directly onto the red gown she had already torn away from herself.
Damian froze for a split second.
He only reacted when he saw the lace catch fire.
His eyes turned cold.
And without a word, he lunged forward.
His first instinct was to push Evelyn away from the flames.
Then he dropped down and used his bare hands to smother the fire.
But the flames had already grown intense enough to scorch his skin.
And they did.
The sharp smell of singed fabric filled the room.
Evelyn’s brows furrowed when she saw the skin on his hand redden and burn.
Her fingers curled into fists.
Every instinct inside her urged her to step forward and stop him.
But her mind held her back.
His burns have nothing to do with me.
His pain has nothing to do with me.
Even if he burned himself to death today, it would still have nothing to do with her.
So she didn’t move.
She simply stood there and watched him stubbornly fight the fire she had started.
Damian tried for several seconds, but when his hands alone weren’t enough, he looked around.
His gaze swept across the room, sharp and precise, searching for anything that could help.
Then, he spotted the jug of water on the table nearby
In one swift movement, he grabbed it and poured the water over the burning gown.
Most of the flames died instantly, rising into a cloud of smoke.
Damian stamped out what remained before brushing away the last flickering embers with his hand.
But the gown was already ruined.
The breathtaking train that had mesmerized the guests earlier that night was now burned, crumpled, and blackened.
It no longer carried the beauty painstakingly sewn into every inch of it.
Now, what it carried was only devastation.
The devastation of reality.
The cruel reality Evelyn had been forced to live through tonight.
Damian stared at the ruined gown.
His jaw tightened.
Then he slowly lifted his gaze toward Evelyn.
His fingers slid behind her head, tangling into her hair as he held her firmly.
Evelyn almost winced at the roughness of his grip.
But when she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she refused to let him see her pain.
Instead, she looked at him with a calmness that seemed to make his jaw tighten even further.
“What were you trying to do?” he asked, pulling her closer.
Their faces were only inches apart.
He was close enough for her to see the subtle contraction of his pupils.
Evelyn’s breath hitched for the briefest moment.
But then she stared into his eyes and said,”I was burning another one of your lies.” Her gaze dropped deliberately toward the ruined gown.
“One that you have designed and had sewn with your own hands?”
His fingers tightened in her hair.
And a quiet gasp escaped her.
But the very next second, she steadied herself.
She glanced down at the destroyed gown again before looking back at him.
“What?” she asked coldly.
“Feeling bad that you couldn’t make your lie last?”
Something shifted in Damian’s eyes.
And then his knuckles cracked.
Evelyn didn’t need to look down to know his hands had tightened into fists.
His expression alone told her enough.
He looked as though he wanted to wring her neck and end this right there.
Yet something was holding him back.
Evelyn could see it.
But she was no longer curious about what it was.
Knowing his intention behind marrying her was enough.
After all, if he ended her life now, how could he carry out whatever plan he had prepared for later?
She hadn’t forgotten his real objective.
Destroying her father through her.
Though she still didn’t understand how she could possibly be useful to him.
If anything, she should have been the last person Charles Beaumont cared about.
And it wouldn’t have been more obvious than it had been today.
Because if he truly cared about her, he wouldn’t have left her alone to face his enemy.
The fact that he made him marry Damian and then had walked away without even looking back had already given her the answer.
She meant very little to him.
“Don’t delude yourself, princess.” Damian closed the remaining inch between them.
His lips hovered near her ear, his voice dropping into a cold whisper.
“Nothing about tonight was about romance.”
He paused.
“Not our vows.
Not the wedding.
Not our kiss…”
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look directly into her eyes.
“…and definitely not this dress.”
“So don’t get your hopes up.
I just did what would have made people believe every part of our wedding.”
Evelyn’s fingers curled tightly at her sides.
Then she slowly shook her head.
“I stopped deluding myself the moment I walked down the aisle to marry you.”
Her voice was quiet but firm.
“Getting my hopes up is still a far-fetched idea.
As long as you’re involved, I won’t even allow myself to hope.”
Her gaze shifted toward the ruined gown.
“And this dress…” A faint, bitter smile touched her lips.
“…burning it was simply my way of proving that to you.”
Her words shouldn’t have hurt him.
And Damian even told himself they didn’t.
Yet he couldn’t stop something inside his chest from tightening.
He couldn’t stop his hand from sliding down to her waist and pulling her flush against him.
“You say that so confidently,” he murmured.
“But do you really believe it?”
His fingers pressed into her waist through the fabric.
Evelyn winced this time.
She couldn’t stop it.
Even with the layer of fabric between them, the pressure of his fingers felt sharp against her skin.
“You —what do you mean?” she asked through clenched teeth, trying to pry his hand away.
But the harder she struggled, the firmer his hold became.
“What I mean?” Damian asked.
Leaning closer again, his breath ghosted across her face, warming her cheeks despite herself.
“Don’t you understand?”
Evelyn glared at him.
His eyes were fixed on hers.
There was something in them she couldn’t quite decipher.
“You burned one dress to prove a point…” His gaze slowly dropped to the gown she was still wearing.
“…while you’re still wrapped in another one of my pieces.”
His eyes returned to hers.
A pointed smirk curved his lips.
“So tell me, Mrs.
Callahan…” His voice lowered.
“What exactly are you trying to do?”
He paused deliberately.
“Because if people didn’t know any better…” His smirk deepened.
“…they might think you’re simply finding ways to seduce me.”
He jerked her forward to him, only to have her hands reach up to press against his chest.
“So, tell me, Mrs.
Callahan …” His gaze dropped deliberately to her lips.
“Are you really trying to seduce your husband?”