y the 

Soren seemed unbothered by the excuse. “By the way, on the way back, did happen to see-” 

He stopped short of saying “Evangeline.” After a moment, he dismissed it. 

you 

Ever since Evangeline moved out, she’d been on his mind at the oddest times. Sometimes, she even turned up in his dreams. 

He was starting to feel haunted by her. 

He rubbed his temples, exhaustion washing over him again. 

Evangeline used to help him unwind every time he was tired, massa shoulders and chatting beside him in her gentle voice. 

g his 

He’d always thought she was annoyingly talkative. Now, he found himself missing 

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ke 

her presence. 

He waved a hand. “Keep digging into that accident.” 

The accident and the miscarriage were Evangeline’s deepest wounds. If he wanted her to come back, he’d have to help her heal them first. 

Chapter 

Chapter 174 

The press conference organized by UME was scheduled for the morning 

By the time Evangeline arrived, the grand ballroom of the five–star hotel was already bustling with people. The air was thick with anticipation–journalists lugged cameras, technicians fiddled with cables, and everywhere she turned, guests chatted animatedly about the upcoming event. 

Seeing the crowd, a familiar wave of anxiety crept over Evangeline. Her heart pounded as she ducked into the lounge, breath coming fast, a dull ache beginning to pulse at her temples. 

The last time this many eyes had been on her was at her mother’s funeral. She remembered the whispers, the pointed fingers thinly veiled by words of comfort. Out of earshot, their hushed voices turned sharp and mocking: 

“Well, luck’s certainly on her side. Her mother’s death was just what the Whitmore family needed to bounce back from ruin. Now she’s marrying into the Fawkes family–she’ll never have to worry about a thing for the rest of her life.” 

Back then, Evangeline had been younger, angrier, unwilling to let such talk slide. She’d marched straight up to the woman who’d spoken and snapped, “If you think it’s such good luck, do you want it for yourself?” 

“How about you let your own daughter die, remarry someone rich, and see if that makes you happy?” 

Evangeline knew the woman well–her mother’s longtime rival, who was always boasting about her own daughter’s accomplishments. Having Evangeline curse her child sent the woman into a rage. “What kind of way is that to talk to your elders? And am I wrong? The Whitmores and the Fawkes are working together, aren’t they? Didn’t your mother use her own death to force the engagement between your family and theirs?” 

Evangeline had been left speechless. As much as she hated to admit it, the woman was right. 

Sensing her silence, the woman had sneered, “Soren is the Fawkes family’s heir in Serenity City. Do you know how many girls would kill for your place? Your mother handed it to you on a silver platter. You should be grateful, not acting all high and mighty.” 

To drive her point home, the woman had jabbed a manicured finger into Evangeline’s forehead, scolding her like a misbehaving child. That was the final 

20-01 

straw. Evangeline had grabbed her hand and bitten down, hard, leaving the viêm howling in pain and clutching her arm. 

Chaos erupted–some people tried to separate them, others muttered words of advice, and a few just laughed at the spectacle. Eventually, someone called for Winston Whitmore. 

He’d shown up like a lifeline, and Evangeline, desperate for an ally, tried to explain through tears what had happened, expecting him to take her side. But Winston hadn’t even listened. He’d yanked her by the hair, dragged her in front of the woman, and forced her to apologize. 

She’d looked up at him in disbelief. “But she was the one who insulted my 

mother.” 

Her voice had cracked as she recounted the events, hoping for some sympathy. Instead, Winston’s reply was cold: “And was she wrong? Maybe we’ve spoiled you too much. Throwing tantrums over a few words–how childish.” 

Evangeline had rarely lost her temper in public. Her mother had always taught her to be polite, but also to stand her ground when someone crossed the line. She was sure she’d done the right thing, but Winston insisted on her apology, threatening to bar her from the funeral if she refused. In the end, she’d had to give in. 

From that day on, crowded rooms like this filled her with dread. Every time she found herself in one, she remembered what it felt like to stand alone, the target of everyone’s scorn. 

Evangeline exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. 

“Well, well, who’s this little kitten hiding away in here, licking her wounds?” A familiar voice cut through her thoughts, and she realized Finn Lockridge had 

slipped into the lounge without her noticing. 

Forcing a smile, she rose to her feet and tried to sound casual. “What are you doing here?”