I know why you called me. Nadia swallowed hard. I need to know if it was all a lie.
Evelyn tilted her head slightly. You want me to tell you the truth about Victor? Nadia nodded to Evelyn’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.
Fine. She didn’t pace. She didn’t lecture.
She told the story. I met him when I was your age. 24.
He said I was different. Special. The only one who saw the man behind the empire.
Nadia’s lips parted. Horror creeping into Evelyn’s tone never changed. He told me his exes didn’t understand him.
That he felt trapped. That I was his freedom. Nadia’s knees buckled slightly.
She sat without meaning to. Evelyn kept going. When I got pregnant, he said it wasn’t the right time.
He said it would damage his future. I believed him. Her eyes flickered then, briefly.
A flash of something raw. I spent my first pregnancy alone in a mansion, locked out of my own accounts, with staff instructed not to speak to me unless necessary. Nadia’s throat tightened.
I thought, you were the problem. I know. Evelyn said softly.a pause.
Do you know what Victor said when I asked why he never came to the hospital? Nadia shook her head, tears starting.Evelyn’s voice. Was pure steel. He said, they’ll survive without me.
Nadia’s tears spilled. Evelyn leaned slightly forward. And that’s when I realized something.
Nadia looked up, broken. Evelyn delivered the sentence with surgical precision. You’re not my enemy.
Nadia blinked. You’re the next version of me. The silence shattered Nadia.
She sobbed. Uncontrollably. Shame and grief flooding her all at once.
She shook her head, gasping. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.
Evelyn watched. Not cruel. Not sympathetic.
Simply finished. I believe you. That, somehow, hurt Nadia more.
Evelyn finally sat. Her posture still impeccable. You weren’t.
The first. And you won’t be the last. I loved him.
Nadia’s voice cracked like glass. So did I. Nadia buried her face in her hands. Evelyn let the silence stretch, giving Nadia the collapse Victor never allowed.
Then, Evelyn’s tone changed. Practical. Sharp.
You need to decide now. Nadia looked up, broken. Decide what? Evelyn’s.
Gaze was ice. Are you going to keep begging for scraps of his attention? Nadia said nothing. Or will you vanish before he destroys what’s left of you? It wasn’t advice that I tea was a warning.
Evelyn stood. Nadia whispered through her tears. Why? Did you come? Evelyn’s expression finally cracked at a flicker of something maternal.
I came, so you wouldn’t make my mistake. She walked to the door. Hand on the handle.
She hesitated. Then, without turning back, Evelyn spoke softly. When? He calls you.
And he will. Don’t answer. The door opened.
Evelyn paused. Then said the last words Nadia would hear from her. He only calls when he needs to win.
And then she was gone. Nadia sat alone. Sobbing in a luxury hotel suite she no longer believed in.
Mourning a future that never existed. But somewhere deep inside, a new thought began to take root. Escape.
And maybe revenge. Victor Monroe sat behind. His glass desk.
Skyscrapers reflecting in the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. The city pulsed with light. But inside his office, it was silent to war room.
Papers lined the table. Financial projections. Public sentiment reports.
Crisis management strategies. None mentioned his children. Across from him, his assistant hovered nervously, clutching a digital tablet.
Sir, three major shareholders pulled out this morning. The board’s nervous. Victor.
Didn’t look up. They’ll come back. The assistant hesitated.
Sir, Evelyn’s interview is scheduled for next week. Victor’s jaw flexed once. Then he returned to the spreadsheets.
Cancel the press conference. But I said cancel it. He didn’t explain that he didn’t need to.to Victor.
Words were liabilities now. Only numbers mattered. And the numbers were bleeding.
His empire needed stability. Family. Did not that he scanned projections.
His mind cold and ruthless. What mattered wasn’t Evelyn’s voice or Nadia’s tears. It wasn’t the public outrage or sympathy.
Sentiment shifted. Wealth endured that if he controlled the market, he controlled the narrative he always had. But for the first time, doubt whispered.
Victor pushed it aside. Send an offer to Lynn’s firm. He said flatly.
An offer. Cash. Property.
Whatever she wants. By Evelyn’s silence. The assistant nodded cautiously, though both knew Lynn wouldn’t settle.
Victor returned to his screens. Unconcerned T.O. him. Evelyn wasn’t a wife.
She was a cost center. And the children? He had never seen them as real. For identical faces he’d.
Avoided from the moment they were born. Babies were complications. Emotions slowed deals.
Attachment weakened resolve. Victor didn’t hold children that he held power. But cracks were forming.
That night, long after the assistant had left, Victor remained. In the office. Lights dimmed.
The city sprawled beyond the glass like a dead circuit board that he poured himself a drink he didn’t touch. His gaze drifted to the single object on the far edge of his desk that a photo’d at a cheap, hospital-issued photograph taken by a nurse point four premature infants. His children? He didn’t know who placed the photo there.
Perhaps Evelyn. Perhaps a staff member long gone. He’d ignored it for years, leaving it on the desk as background noise.
But now, alone, he stared at it. Not with affection. Not with regret.
With confusion. They meant nothing to him. Not because.
He was cruel. Because he didn’t know how. Victor Monroe understood transactions.
Not fatherhood. The silence pressed in. Finally, he stood.
Walked to the window. Stared down at the streets. Where cars and people looked equally meaningless.
Eye in the reflection of the glass. His own face stared back at him. For the first time, he didn’t recognize it.
His empire was crumbling. His narrative slipping. And he didn’t know how to win this war.
Behind him, the untouched drink warmed. Beside it, the photo remained point four children and a man who never held them. Victor whispered to no one.
They’ll forget me. And somewhere in the city, Evelyn prepared to ensure exactly that. Nadia stopped counting the hours.
Time no longer mattered. Her hotel suite. Once her escape.
Had become her prison. Curtains stayed closed. Food trays rotted untouched.