I watched the twins clutch my sleeves, their eyes wide, as if trying to swallow the shock.
“You—” I began, feeling my throat constrict, “I didn’t—”
Evelyn slammed her palm on the marble railing, the sound echoing louder than the murmurs of the guests.
“Did you think a garden party could wash away the night you threw a woman and her unborn children into the street?” she hissed.
My mind raced, heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
“I was a different man then,” I whispered, the words tasting like ash.
She leaned in, her perfume sharp, and whispered, “You’re not just a betrayer, Roland. You’re a liar. I have the proof.”
In that moment, I saw the twins’ faces flicker – a mix of confusion and hurt, the kind only a child feels when their hero collapses.
“If you think you can silence me,” Evelyn continued, “I’ll go straight to the papers. The scandal will eat you alive, and the public will never forgive the man who sold his soul for a headline.”
My chest tightened; the thought of headlines, of my name splashed across every screen, made my palms sweat.
“You have no idea what you’re threatening,” I managed, voice cracking.
Evelyn’s eyes glinted. “I do. I’ve seen the emails, the offshore accounts. I know you built this empire on fraud, on the blood of everyday people.”
The twins shifted, their tiny bodies trembling in my grasp, and I realized I was holding the proof of my sins in the very hands of the innocents I’d abandoned.
“You’ll ruin everything,” I whispered, a plea more to myself than to her.
She smiled, cold and unforgiving. “No. I’ll ruin you.”
