Just last night, she was so eager, so passionate, as if she wanted to burn our love into eternity.
Why end it now?
I forced myself to calm down and started digging into the situation through my own channels.
That was how I ended up here—at her engagement.
On stage, I could see it clearly: Evelyn Carter wasn’t happy. She was being forced into this.
“Give me a kiss!” Someone in the crowd jeered.
The greasy little man tried to grab Evelyn’s hand. She flinched back instinctively.
His fleshy lips quivered as he spat, “You forgot what you promised me already?”
Her face drained of color, but she stepped forward anyway. She must have been threatened.
Without hesitation, I shoved through the crowd and shouted:
“Evelyn, if something’s wrong, tell me! Don’t put yourself through this!”
Every gaze in the hall snapped at me.
When Evelyn saw me, a flicker of joy lit her eyes—then vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by icy resolve.
“Who the hell is this kid?” Marco Ramirez barked.
“You dare call my fiancée by her first name so intimately?”
I opened my mouth to reveal my identity, but Evelyn cut me off.
Her brows knit tightly, her voice sharp as knives: