"Marcellus, I’m hungry." Evangeline had been so set on leaving that she’d refused to eat, and after her recent fever, she was now so famished she felt like she was eating her own stomach lining.

Marcellus froze for a moment. "Right. I’ll have Helen prepare something immediately."

He stood beneath the window of the study, his cigarette glowing rhythmically in the dark. He couldn't shake the events of the day; he didn't understand why her attitude had shifted so drastically. Was she truly losing her mind, as Damian had suggested? If he had inadvertently broken her spirit, he didn't know if he could live with the guilt. He’d rather believe this was all just a ploy to escape.

In her room, Evangeline was replaying the timeline. The more she thought, the more her head pounded, so she shut her eyes. She had a mountain of things to accomplish, but her primary objective right now was to manipulate Marcellus into letting her step outside these walls.

"Knock, knock."

"Ms. Evangeline, dinner’s ready. I’m coming in."

It was Helen, the housekeeper who had practically raised Marcellus. She was a gentle soul, a mother figure to him, and Evangeline liked her. When Evangeline had first been brought here against her will, Helen had often urged Marcellus to treat a woman with respect, not force.

Helen sat by the bed with a soft smile. "You can’t punish yourself just because you’re having a spat with him." She scooped up a spoonful of wonton soup and held it to Evangeline’s lips.

"I know, Helen. I’m done with the drama," Evangeline said with a practiced, sweet smile.

"Good girl."

After finishing the bowl, she felt a flicker of strength return. She showered, washing away the cold sweat of her trauma, feeling like a human being again. When she emerged, Marcellus was sitting on the sofa, waiting.

She was fresh from the shower, her skin flushed and petal-soft, smelling of lilies. Marcellus felt his throat tighten; he quickly looked away, not daring to linger on the sight.

Evangeline caught the subtle tremor in his posture and smirked internally. She hadn't realized the 'little psycho' was such a pure-hearted amateur. She decided to have some fun with him.

"Marcellus, come dry my hair. I’m still too weak to do it myself."

Without a word, he stood and walked to the vanity. He took the hairdryer and ran his fingers through her hair. As the warm air hummed, Evangeline leaned back, squinting like a pampered cat. She had never let her guard down around him before, and the domestic intimacy of the moment seemed to melt his resolve. Even if this were a lie, he was addicted to it.

Ten minutes later, her hair was dry. Marcellus pulled the plug, his heart racing with a mix of ecstasy and torture. The scent of her skin was driving him to the brink of sanity.

"All done."

He turned and practically fled the bedroom. Evangeline chuckled, watching his frantic exit. "He’s almost cute."

Later that night, the nightmares returned. She was suffocating in the dark water of her past life, the betrayal by her own sister and fiancé burning in her lungs. She woke up gasping, clutching the sheets. The darkness of the room felt predatory. She wasn't just a survivor anymore; she was a ghost haunting her own life.

She made a decision. Grabbing her pillow, she marched to Marcellus’s room. It wasn't dignified, but she needed to be close to him.

"Knock, knock."

"Marcellus? It’s me. Can I come in?"

The door clicked open. Marcellus was in a black silk robe, his hair mussed, looking like a boy caught in a storm. He looked at her pale face and trembling hands.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, his voice thick with concern.

Evangeline nodded, her eyes rimmed with tears. "Can I... sleep with you?"

He hesitated, then stepped aside. As he prepared to head for the sofa, she grabbed his hand. "I’m scared. Can’t you just stay here with me?"

His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird, but he lay down. He could never say no to her.

***

The next morning, Evangeline felt clear-headed. When she went downstairs and learned Marcellus had already left for the office, she felt a genuine pout forming on her lips. She didn't have to fake her disappointment—she had grown to crave his presence.

She called Remi, her business partner and friend. "Remi, darling, I miss you!"

"Oh, save it," Remi retorted, though her tone softened. "You've been gone for months. You're trying to drain me dry while you play house in that mansion!"

"I’m working on it, I promise! Once I’m back, I’ll work like a mule for us."

After the call, Evangeline headed to the home dance studio Marcellus had built for her. She put on a leotard, her movements sharp, almost frenetic. She danced until her lungs burned, trying to purge the memories of the Montgomery family’s ruin.

When Marcellus finally returned, he found her slumped on the floor, shivering.

"Evangeline!" He lunged forward, sweeping her into his arms.

"I’m just... tired," she whispered, leaning into his warmth. "Take me to the bath."

In the bathroom, as he tested the water, she watched his profile. "Marcellus, do you love me? Why the cage? Why not just ask me out like a normal person?"

His spine went rigid. "I didn't think I had time to be patient," he muttered, his back turned. "The family business was in shambles, and by the time I pulled myself out of the gutter, the engagement with the Harrison boy had already been announced."

He looked at her with such raw, wounded intensity that she felt a genuine pang of guilt.

***

Days later, Evangeline sat in the Montgomery family living room, her heart pounding. She had broken off the engagement to Jonah.

"What do you mean you're breaking it off?" her father boomed, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

"He and Cassidy," Evangeline said, her voice dropping into an icy register. "They've been sleeping together behind my back. I caught them."

The silence in the room was absolute. Her mother’s face crumbled into a mask of pure fury.

That afternoon, while shopping with her mother, she spotted them again. Cassidy was clinging to Jonah’s arm in a department store.

"Cassidy!" Evangeline’s mother stepped forward, her voice trembling. "What is the meaning of this?"

Cassidy, ever the manipulative sweet-talker, immediately let go of Jonah, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. "Mom, it’s not what you think! Jonah was just helping me pick out a birthday gift for Evangeline!"

"Saving your skin with a lie, as always," Evangeline said, stepping forward. She looked Jonah dead in the eye. "Jonah, if you want to be with her, take her. I don't want the leftovers."

She turned and walked away, her head held high. Jonah scrambled after her, grabbing her arm. "Evangeline, don't! It’s a mistake! I don't want her!"

She shook him off like he was something filthy. "Save your dignity, Jonah. It’s over."

***

When she returned to the Elysian Estate, Marcellus was in the boxing gym, his knuckles bloodied as he took out his frustration on his security team. He looked like a cornered beast.

Evangeline walked straight into the ring. The bodyguards scattered, sensing the shift in the air.

"Marcellus," she whispered.

He stopped, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his chin. He looked at her with a desperate, fractured vulnerability. "I thought... I thought you weren't coming back."

She stepped into his space, taking his bruised hands into hers. "I went home to end it. I ended the engagement."

His eyes widened, the fire in them replaced by a raw, terrified hope.

"Why?" he breathed.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against his sweat-slicked chest. "Because I want to be with you."

The dam broke. He pulled her into a crushing embrace, his entire frame trembling. He held her as if she were the only solid thing in a crumbling world. She felt the heavy, thundering beat of his heart and knew, with chilling clarity, that this man would burn the world down just to keep her in it.

She didn't know yet that he had already done exactly that—in a past life, he had traded his soul for her return. And as she kissed his lips, tasting the salt of his devotion, she knew she would never let him go again.