She Actually Held Him

On the drive back from the Harrison residence, Marilyn asked with genuine curiosity, "Evangeline, after everything they’ve done to you, how can you still feel anything for that child?"

Evangeline pressed her lips into a thin line, letting out a long, measured breath. "An adult’s sins shouldn't be visited upon a child. If that baby had a choice, he certainly wouldn't have asked to be born into such a mess of a family."

Marilyn looked at her, her eyes filled with pride. "Kind, yet principled; discerning and wise. My daughter, you truly are remarkable."

Evangeline smiled, leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder. "I had a great teacher."

Back at the Harrison manor, the moment Jonah stepped into the living area, the scent of the nursery hit him. His brows knit together in a sharp, cold scowl. "Why the hell did you bring him into the main house again?"

Angela sighed, her voice laced with exhaustion. "Jonah, that’s your son. You can’t keep doing this. He’s just a baby. If you keep pushing him away, your coldness will only leave scars."

"Mom, if you’re so intent on raising him, keep him somewhere I can’t see him. Otherwise, this house isn't big enough for the both of us!"

"Jonah!"

Ignoring his mother’s desperate plea, Jonah turned to stalk out, but his eyes caught something on the coffee table that made him freeze. Angela followed his gaze.

"Evangeline stopped by this morning. She returned this."

Jonah’s shoulders slumped, his posture losing all its tension, as if the strings holding him up had been unceremoniously cut. Watching her son look like a hollow shell of himself, Angela gritted her teeth in frustration.

"Jonah, you made your bed, now you have to lie in it. How much longer are you going to wallow in this state? Even Evangeline—the one you wronged—could let go of the grudge long enough to hold your baby. Why can't you?"

"Evangeline... held him?"

Jonah’s expression was a volatile storm of shock, disbelief, and a flicker of something bordering on madness. He shook his head violently. "She shouldn't have let it go. She should hate me. She should hate me enough to want me dead!"

Angela rubbed her throbbing temples. She was exhausted. She retreated from the room, leaving Jonah alone to spiral into his own frantic, one-sided monologue.

Outside, the faint, babbling sounds of the infant drifted in from the garden. Jonah pulled himself back to reality and walked to the door, staring fixedly at the scene. The nanny saw him and scrambled to shield the baby in her arms. "I’m so sorry, sir! I’ll take him away immediately."

"Wait."

The nanny trembled, her body still angled to keep the baby out of his sight. Over the past year, Jonah had transformed from a gentle, bright young man into someone cold, jagged, and increasingly volatile—especially since the baby had been brought home. Angela had given strict orders: never let the child be seen by him. The household staff took those orders to heart. Caught in the act, the nanny looked like she was waiting for a blow.

"Bring him here."

His voice was dead, cold, and final. Fearing what he might do, the nanny dropped to her knees. "Sir, it’s my fault! It won’t happen again, I swear!"

Jonah lost his patience. His voice dropped to a chilling, low register. "I said, bring. Him. Here."

"…Yes, sir."

The nanny took tiny, terrified steps until she stood before him. Jonah looked down at the infant’s face. The child was far too young to understand the dark intensity in his father’s eyes; he simply reached out a tiny hand, waving it as if playing a game.

Jonah didn't say a word, but the sight rippled through him, churning his gut. He hated the feeling. Desperate to escape it, he turned on his heel and walked away. Only when he was out of earshot did the nanny finally exhale.

That episode passed, and Evangeline’s mind finally settled. After dropping her mother off, she headed straight for the Elysian Estate. Tomorrow was the day for their wedding photoshoot. They had chosen the estate as the backdrop—it was their sanctuary, and for them, it held more meaning than any grand location ever could.

Before the car even pulled through the gates, she could see the place was crawling with people. Marcellus hated having outsiders in their personal space; usually, the staff worked around their schedules. It was the first time she had seen the estate in such a chaotic flurry of activity.

"Good afternoon, Madam!"

"Good afternoon," Evangeline replied with a smile, grabbing the sleeve of a young girl who usually worked under Helen Meyer. "Arely, what’s all this for?"

"Madam, we’re setting up for the photoshoot tomorrow."

"Oh, I see."

Evangeline stepped inside, and the scene within left her stunned. Rows upon rows of wedding gowns and formal wear were neatly displayed across the living room. A stylish woman stepped forward with a warm, professional smile.

"Good afternoon, Madam. I’m the head of the FWC team. These are the gowns Mr. Alexander selected for you. Would you like to start picking your favorites?"

Evangeline felt a bit overwhelmed. She grabbed her iPhone and snapped a few photos to send to Remi. While waiting for her friend to arrive, she began narrowing down the selection to a dozen elegant, timeless pieces.

"You really have the eye of a high-end designer, Madam. The ones you’ve picked are absolutely perfect for you."

The lead stylist was a true professional, perfectly articulating the design philosophy behind every piece Evangeline touched. Back at her own studio, Evangeline had always treated her clients exactly like this, so being on the receiving end brought a wave of warmth to her chest.

"What’s your name?"

"You can call me Eileen, Madam."

"Alright, Eileen. Let’s take a break. There's no need to be so formal."

An hour later, Remi arrived and let out a dramatic gasp. "Evangeline! Did you move a whole bridal boutique into your living room?"

She was about to ask why they hadn't just gone to the shop instead of dealing with the hassle of moving it all, when her eyes landed on the logo on the garment bags.

"FWC? Fairy's Wedding Couture?"

"Yes, Miss. We’re from FWC. The gowns were flown in from overseas overnight."

Remi clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Talk about excessive wealth!"

Eileen led her team and Evangeline to a guest suite to begin the fittings. Evangeline’s frame was delicate, her waist and limbs impossibly slender. Even with barely any makeup, her skin glowed like polished pearl, making the most intricate gowns seem like nothing more than simple accessories.

She stood before the mirror, adjusting the hem of a gown as her dark, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders. Remi couldn't stop staring. "A beauty that topples cities, a face that brings the world to a standstill. You’re truly a work of art."

"Remi, are you just seeing what you want to see because you’re my best friend?"

"Hardly! You look breathtaking. It makes me want to kidnap you right here and now."

"Miss Crawford!"

A sharp, dangerous masculine voice cut through the air from the doorway, making Remi jump. Evangeline stifled a laugh behind her hand. "Remi, every time you try to do something scandalous to me, my husband walks in. I’m starting to feel like I’m caught having an affair!"

"Stop laughing! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Remi shot a glare toward the door before reluctantly walking over to open it. "I’m saying, Marcellus, is it really polite to eavesdrop on women’s conversations?!"

Marcellus barely spared her a glance. "I’m thinking I should have Damian look into your preferences, just so you don't end up in a lavender marriage later in life."

"You’re the one whose preferences are twisted!"

It was true—her best friend and her husband were locked in a perpetual cycle of friction. They simply couldn't stand each other.

"Marcellus, does this one look good?" Evangeline asked, trying to steer them away from each other.

"Stunning."

He’d walked in, only to have the breath stolen from his lungs. She wasn't even fully styled yet, and she already looked like a goddess who had descended to earth. A dark, possessive thought flickered in his mind, but he reigned it in, his expression darkening to hide the raw intensity of his desire.

Evangeline waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Marcellus? Why are you zoning out? You should head out—we haven't finished trying them all on yet."

"Right."

Once he was gone, Remi leaned in to whisper, "The way he was looking at you just now? He looked like he was about to devour you. And he has the nerve to pick on me for just talking trash."

Evangeline poked her friend's forehead with a playful laugh. "You little jealous thing!"

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{"zh": "婚纱", "en": "wedding gown", "type": "Item"}

]