CHAPTER 6 : THE PERFECT REPLACEMENT

Evelyn didn’t sleep. Not for a second. That article just glared back at her from the laptop, still open long after midnight. Somewhere between the lines, the truth never shifted. Damian and Isabella had started things up again months ago. Not a few days. Not even a couple of weeks. Months. He slept beside her all that time. Ate dinner with her, smiled at her across the table, kept pretending they still had a marriage. The poison of that realization just kept spreading through her chest. Three a.m. found her still curled up on the couch, knees tucked to her chest. By four, all she could do was stare out the window at the rain. At five, she made up her mind. She needed answers—and not from the articles, not from online rumors, not from those faceless gossip trolls. From Damian, straight from his mouth. If the marriage really was dead, she deserved the truth—no more whispering, dodging, pretending. Even if it hurt. Even if it finished her. The next morning, Black Enterprises Tower looked almost too grand for its own good, stretching way above the city like some crystal trophy. All these years of ambition, success, everything Evelyn had poured her life into. She stood across the street, almost daring herself to go inside. Seven years back, this company was just a shabby little rented place with peeling paint. Everything was secondhand; even the phone blinked uncertainly when it rang. Now, glass and steel, luxury everywhere. The company climbed. Damian climbed. But somewhere along the way, their marriage didn’t keep up. She pushed her hair back and crossed the street. Employees glanced up, then looked away, whispers not even bothering to hide anymore—some embarrassed for her, some just nosy, a few with small, cruel grins. None of it shocked her now. The humiliation just lived in her bones, a kind of ache you get used to, even though it still hurt as much as the divorce itself. At the front desk, the receptionist froze when she approached. “Mrs...Mrs. Black.” Evelyn almost snorted. Not for much longer. “I need to see Damian,” she said. The woman’s eyes flicked to her computer, nervous. “Do you, um...have an appointment?” Of course not. Evelyn didn’t bother answering. The term “appointment” felt almost like a joke. After a tense call, the woman nodded. “The CEO will see you.” CEO. Not Damian. Not her husband. That little sting drew blood. The elevator felt like it moved through molasses. Evelyn caught her reflection in the mirrored walls. Pale, worn out, hollow-eyed—it was almost like staring at a stranger. The doors pinged open. The executive floor looked every bit as sleek and glossy as Damian always wanted. Her old dreams echoed in every inch of the place. Once, she’d wanted them too. A secretary walked her to his office, paused, then said, “You can go in now.” Evelyn just nodded, heartbeat thundering. For a couple of seconds, she couldn’t move. Then she shoved the door open and stepped inside. Damian stood by the window, city laid out beneath him. Perfect suit, perfect everything. Powerful, untouchable. He didn’t turn at first. It was like facing a stranger. Finally, he turned around. His expression flat. “You wanted to see me.” She waited for something—any sign of warmth or concern. Got nothing. “Why?” she asked, the word blurting out before she could stop herself. His brow creased. “What?” “Why did you do it?” Her voice wavered, but she kept talking. “No more vague answers. I need the truth.” He just looked at her, watching the dark circles under her eyes, catching the mess he’d left behind. For a second, she thought he might care—something flickered—but he buried it fast. “What truth do you want?” he asked, guarded. She let out a small, bitter laugh that didn’t sound like her. “Let’s start with Isabella.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. He didn’t answer right away. “How long?” Evelyn’s question felt sharp and final. He wouldn’t look at her, not for a moment. “Several months.” His words hit so much harder with the sound of his voice behind them. Even though she’d read it on the screen, even though she’d suspected—hearing him say it made it real. “Several months,” she repeated, barely above a whisper. “So, what, you were still married to me, coming home every night, while she—” “It wasn’t like that,” he cut in, jaw clenched. Evelyn’s anger spiked. “Then what was it?” Damian hesitated, searching for something safe to say. “We reconnected professionally.” She almost laughed again—this time, almost hysterical. “Professionally? Is that what we’re calling it now?” Her chest tightened. “What about emotionally?” He didn’t answer. Silence told her everything. She felt dizzy, like the floor might drop out at any second. “Did you ever love me?” The words were out before she could stop them. Damian looked startled, that careful mask slipping for a moment. He just watched her, then finally said, “I cared about you.” Evelyn swayed, a single tear sliding down her cheek. That was all she got—“cared.” She wiped her face fast, but he saw. Something shifted in him again, but he stuffed it away and said, softer, “You deserve someone who can give you everything.” She stared at him, only disbelief left. “Is that what you think you’re doing? Letting me go, for my sake?” It was almost funny, if it hadn’t cut so deeply. She shook her head, voice rough. “No. This is about Isabella.” He couldn’t argue. He didn’t even try. The silence gave her the answer. And then the last question, the one she’d dreaded most: “Do you love her?” Damian didn’t look at her. He stared out the window for a long, long moment. Then, softly, he said, “She belongs in my future.” Evelyn’s world tipped sideways. She stopped breathing. That sentence slammed the door on their marriage, just like that. Seven years erased with five words. When she looked back at him, something inside her finally snapped. The heartbreak was still there, but now it mingled with anger—sharp, dangerous. She almost laughed, broken and bitter. “You know what’s funny?” She met his eyes, tears shining. “I stood by you when no one else would. When people laughed. When the money was gone. When this company was hanging by a thread.” Every memory hammered through her ribs. “And now you stand there, looking at me like I’m the problem.” Damian’s expression wavered. Guilt flickered across his face, fast and brief, but it was real. Then he locked it away, pretending to be the strong, decisive CEO. It hurt, knowing he’d already chosen someone else. Minutes later, Evelyn walked out of his office. She felt empty, gutted. The words replayed over and over—she belongs in my future. They echoed with every step, followed her into the elevator, through the lobby, out into the street. She barely felt the tears until someone spoke. “Miss?” She froze. A man’s voice—steady, deep. She turned. A tall stranger stood nearby, sharp suit, commanding presence. But his eyes stood out—watchful, clever, missing nothing. He studied her for a second, then glanced at Black Enterprises Tower. “You shouldn’t cry over a man like him,” he said. Her cheeks flamed. Was this really happening? A stranger, witnessing all of it. “Excuse me?” she snapped. He offered a small, measured smile. Not mocking. “He doesn’t deserve it.” She was about to respond when she heard Damian’s voice, low and tense. “Who are you?” Evelyn turned, startled. Damian stood there, looking darker than ever, eyes pinned on the stranger. The air felt electric. The stranger looked quietly amused, not backing down an inch. Damian stepped closer. “Why are you talking to her?” His tone came off almost...territorial. Evelyn blinked. Did he seriously think he still had a claim? The stranger picked up on it too, eyebrows raised. “Interesting.” Damian’s jaw locked. “What is?” The man glanced at Evelyn, then back at Damian. “You divorce her, but you can’t stand someone else talking to her?” The annoyance in Damian’s eyes was almost funny—if any of this was funny anymore. Why should he care? He’d picked his side. He’d walked away. The stranger’s eyes lingered on her, then he offered his hand, voice cool and steady. “My apologies. I should introduce myself.” Damian seemed to sense something—he was alert now, trying to read the room. The man’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “My name is Alexander Knight.” And with those words, everything shifted.