Chapter 9
870words
The early summer sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows of the design studio, spilling onto rows of brilliant jewelry. The air was filled with the fragrance of coffee and white roses.
Dressed in a simple linen gown, I was smiling while chatting with a Paris fashion magazine editor. She couldn't stop praising my recently international award-winning piece—"Dawn", with endless compliments.
Evelyn, there's a very unique sense of power in your designs," the editor said, holding a glass of champagne, her emerald eyes full of admiration, "They have both the sharpness of something broken, and the gentleness of something healed. Just like... yourself.
I laughed softly, not denying it.
My gaze passes over the crowd, landing on the other side of the studio. Oliver is patiently introducing the inspiration behind his work to a client. Sunlight falls on his flaxen hair, making him look warm and gentle. Sensing my gaze, he looks up and gives me a reassuring smile, his blue-green eyes filled with clear, pure love.
We've had difficult times too. I couldn't immediately dive into a new relationship; my heart was like a burned-down ruin. Oliver gave me enough space and respect. Like a patient gardener, he used gentleness and companionship to gradually plant seeds of trust and love in the barren field of my heart.
We didn't have a grand wedding, just a simple exchange of vows in a small chapel by Lake Geneva on a clear afternoon. Our life is peaceful, and warm.
I achieved my "Happy Ending." Not through redemption by some man, but by myself, step by step trudging out of the mire, personally welcoming the Dawn of my life.
"Speaking of which," the editor-in-chief suddenly lowered her voice, with a hint of mystery, "Evelyn, have you heard? About that Vincent Lowell."
Upon hearing this name, my heart remained completely unmoved, as if hearing a distant business symbol.
"I haven't been following," I responded indifferently.
He's practically become a legendary taboo in the business world!" The editor-in-chief shook her head dramatically, "Ever since five years ago, after he settled accounts with that so-called 'sister', he completely changed as a person. Colder than before, more ruthless, his methods so brutal they make all his opponents shudder. The market value of the Lowell Group has tripled under his management, but as for himself...
She leaned closer to me, her voice dropping even lower: "They say he's still single, with no woman by his side. He bought the largest estate by Lake Zurich, but for most of the year, he shuts himself away in that allegedly haunted old mansion in New York. Some people say he's gone mad, turned into a money-making machine with work but no soul."
I raised my champagne glass and took a light sip, offering no comment.
…………
[At the same time, New York, Lowell Manor]
In the enormous study, only a desk lamp was lit.
The dim light illuminated the desk, making the darkness around it seem even thicker.
Vincent had just hung up the phone. On the call, in an icy tone, he had finalized a multi-billion-dollar acquisition that completely crushed a competitor.
The subordinate on the other end of the line didn't dare breathe.
He was just a soulless money-making machine.
He hung up the phone.
After success came an even more hollow silence.
The silence gripped his throat, suffocating him.
His gaze fell on the latest issue of VOGUE magazine at the corner of his desk.
He reached out and opened it.
His fingertips glided over the smooth glossy paper, but when he turned to a certain page, his movement suddenly stopped.
It was a two-page feature story.
The title read: "Dawn—Evelyn Windsor's Poetic Rebirth."
In the photograph, Evelyn was wearing a linen dress, standing in Milan's bright sunlight. She was smiling, the light in her eyes showing a serenity he had never seen before.
It was happiness.
Beside her stood a gentle and refined man, gazing at her with abundant love.
On her ring finger was a simple platinum band.
Not the pink diamond that he had treasured, which now seemed like a joke.
Vincent's breath stopped at that moment.
He looked at her in the photo, at her being protected by another man.
Like watching a scene from another world.
A warm, bright world that he could never enter.
He slowly closed the magazine, as if using all his strength.
Then, he pulled open the locked drawer of his desk, and took out two velvet boxes from inside.
One contained the "Eternal Heart."
The other held the faded Pregnancy Test.
He placed both items side by side on the desk.
One was his returned promise.
The other was his strangled bloodline.
For five years, he had won the whole world. He had settled scores with all enemies and stood at the pinnacle of power.
Yet in the depths of night, in this empty prison, his only companions were these two relics of eternal failure.
He had built himself a vast empire of wealth, and also constructed a hell from which he could never escape.
Outside the window, the moonlight was cold and clear.
Only, it could no longer shine into a withered heart.
