That night…
Leo Lawrence guiltily lowered his gaze, avoiding Evelyn Grant’s questioning eyes.
He wasn’t sure how much she knew.
After waking up that day, he had frantically cut off all channels of information, terrified of the news reaching Evelyn Grant’s ears.
Uncontrollable regret.
‘This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
My relationship with Evelyn Grant…
it wasn’t supposed to be like this…’
His heart sank.
He was five years older than Evelyn Grant and always perfectly at ease in high-stakes situations, yet under her gaze, he was utterly flustered.
He didn’t want to lie to Evelyn Grant, but one lie had to be covered by countless others.
His chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.
Leo Lawrence opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked as if by a stone, and no words came out.
The evening breeze carried a slight chill.
Evelyn Grant’s voice, carried on the wind, sounded cold and detached.
“Cat got your tongue?
Does your conscience bother you too, Leo Lawrence?”
Photos were thrown down in front of him.
They shattered all of Leo Lawrence’s hopes.
In the photos were the crystal-clear faces of him and Nina.
The thing he feared most had finally been stripped bare, exposed completely before Evelyn Grant.
His face turned deathly pale.
As if he’d seen a ghost, Leo Lawrence swept all the photos off the table.
His breathing grew ragged.
“I…
I was drunk.
I didn’t know…
Evelyn, I really didn’t know.”
Evelyn Grant laughed sardonically.
“How could you not know?
You stayed by Nina’s side under the guise of being friends, but you’ve always been in love with her.
You only reluctantly left a year ago when you found out she had a boyfriend.
Then, after Nina broke up with him and came to you…
on one hand, there was me.
On the other, the girl you’d quietly loved for four years.
When you saw her standing in front of you, did you feel a little dazed?
Did you even think of me?”
She added with a hint of self-deprecation, her tone light, “Then again, how can six months compare to four years?”
Preston Keaton hadn’t told her all this—he probably couldn’t be bothered to recount other people’s love lives.
But Wyatt Walsh had laid out every story in meticulous detail.
In the entertainment industry, no matter how well you tried to hide things, you couldn’t stand against a powerful person lifting a finger.
Leo Lawrence shook his head, his eyes reddening.
He pressed his thin lips together tightly, his arm muscles tensing until the veins popped.
In a near-pleading tone, he said, “My feelings for you are real.
I’d already forgotten about her long ago.
In my heart, no one is more important than you.”
“But you lied to me.”
Evelyn Grant stared at him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.
A watery sheen gradually filled her eyes, blurring her vision, yet her feelings grew calmer, inch by inch.
When she had asked him about his relationship with Nina, he’d said they were just friends.
When she couldn’t reach him, and he called back the next day, he’d said he was busy.
‘How utterly pointless.’
They faced each other across a bouquet of flowers.
She could see the bloodshot veins in Leo Lawrence’s eyes, his pale and regretful face, and his own eyes welling with a bitter moisture.
Finally, he could only tremble and ask softly, “I don’t have another chance, do I?”
“How could I possibly give you another chance?”
Evelyn Grant laughed through her tears.
“While I was thinking about our future, thinking about bravely moving forward together, you were in bed with Nina, Leo Lawrence.”
He had woken from nightmares of this many times, relieved it was only a dream.
Today, he had plummeted into that shattered reality.
The rims of Leo Lawrence’s eyes were alarmingly red.
As if drained of all strength, his voice came out low and thick with choked sobs.
“I’m sorry, Evelyn.”
“I love you, but…
I’m sorry.”
「November.」
The temperature in Veridia was still pleasant and comfortable.
There were always a lot of tourists, no matter the month.
Evelyn Grant silently watched the people outside, a weight on her heart, like shackles she couldn’t break free from.
She pursed her lips.
“Can we find somewhere to wait for a bit and go back to The Mid-Levels later?”
The driver replied in a gentle tone, “My apologies, Miss Grant.
The master has instructed me to take you straight back.”
All her words caught in her throat.
Evelyn Grant’s hand tightened on the hem of her clothes, and she lowered her eyes, saying nothing more.
They arrived at The Mid-Levels in less than ten minutes.
The villa was as quiet as ever.
Evelyn Grant took a deep breath and stepped into the living room.
Butler Shaw, who had been waiting for who knows how long, came forward with a smile.
“Miss Grant.” His expression was unreadable, betraying nothing but politeness.
“Mr.
Keaton is in the study.”
“…”
Evelyn Grant pursed her lips and nodded.
She didn’t know where Preston Keaton’s study was, nor did she have any intention of going.
She had only one thought in her mind: find Sophie Keaton.
Only by her side could she feel any sense of security.
‘Surely Preston Keaton wouldn’t do anything to me in front of his own sister.’
However, just as she was about to leave, Butler Shaw’s voice sounded again.
“Mr.
Keaton said that if he doesn’t see you within five minutes, he will come to find you himself.”
Her heart sank.
The feeling of being controlled was suffocating, but she could only turn and say, “Please lead the way.”
Preston Keaton’s study was on the second basement level, a part of the house she had never been to before.
Butler Shaw led her to a set of black double doors, then bowed slightly and gestured for her to enter.
The doors were heavy.
Evelyn Grant had to use some force to push them open.
Once inside, she discovered a whole different world.
It was a study in the truest sense of the word.
Decorated in black and gray, it had a two-story-high ceiling.
Despite being underground, the lighting was excellent.
The towering shelves were like mountains, filled with countless neatly arranged books, and two spiral staircases provided access.
Preston Keaton sat at the desk, dressed in black loungewear.
He glanced up coolly, his features refined and noble, exuding an air of scholarly composure.
He still had that gentle appearance, seemingly without a hint of danger, looking almost languid.
Evelyn Grant pressed her back against the door, not moving any closer.
Her lips formed a thin line.
“Mr.
Keaton, what did you want to see me about?”
Her tone was stiff and extremely wary, as if she sensed danger and had instinctively put up her thorns.
A small figure beneath the imposing doors, she looked exceptionally tiny.
Preston Keaton nonchalantly lifted his eyelids.
“Did you want me to come and fetch you?”
His expression hadn’t changed, but the pressure in his tone made Evelyn Grant’s heart skip a beat.
“…”
She shuffled forward, step by cautious step, forcing herself to stop by the sunken circular sofa in front of the desk.
Preston Keaton just watched her quietly, as if observing a timid kitten, looking rather amused.
Only when he saw the redness at the corners of her eyes did he narrow his own.
“You rejected Leo Lawrence?”
Evelyn Grant didn’t look at him.
She stood there timidly, head bowed like a child who’d been scolded.
“Yes.”
Preston Keaton’s expression was blank.
“So obedient.”
He stood up and, under the girl’s suddenly wary gaze, unhurriedly sat down on the sofa.
His posture was casual yet elegant.
His pale collarbones were clearly visible, and further down, one could even glimpse the powerful lines of his muscles and his long, strong legs.
He glanced over at her, his aura suddenly turning sharp.
“Now, let’s talk about the times you’re not so obedient.”