EVELYN'S POV
As I approached the looming doorway of Lucas's house, the chilly evening air did little to cool the heat simmering in my veins. My phone was still in my hand, the screen dark after ending my father's call.
Before I could even knock, the door swung open with a suddenness that made me flinch.
There Lucas was, standing in the dim porch light, his broad chest bare and glistening faintly, the muscles tense as though he'd been mid-action. His only attire was a pair of loose shorts slung low on his hips, and his expression flickered between surprise and unease.
"Evelyn," he said, my name rolling off his lips like a wary question. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't bother with pleasantries. "We need to talk," I said curtly, the edge in my voice cutting through the night.
Lucas blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked, his brow creasing into a frown that almost looked genuine.
I crossed my arms, pinning him with a pointed glare. "Oh, I tried," I replied, the sarcasm dripping as thick as venom. "But every time, your line was conveniently busy. Let me guess... you had some important call that made you forget I was waiting for you and you left without me."
He ran a hand down his face, his posture shifting into something that resembled guilt. "I'm sorry, Evelyn," he said, his voice low. "It was a work call. It couldn't wait."
His excuse was paper-thin, and we both knew it. My jaw tightened. Work call or not, the shadow of Clara clung to him like smoke, suffocating every ounce of rationality I tried to muster.
"Save that excuse for someone who doesn't know better," I snapped, my tone sharp enough to make him flinch. "Do you think I'm a fool, Lucas?"
His eyes widened in alarm. "No, Evelyn. Of course not. What's going on?" he asked.
"You're playing games," I said, my voice like steel, unwavering. "And you're pitching me against Clara."
Lucas frowned, confusion flickering in his expression. "How so?"
I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. This was not the moment to falter. "I know Clara's been here," I said, my words as precise as a blade. "She decorated this place, didn't she?"
He hesitated, and I saw it; that flicker of guilt, that crack in his façade. It was all I needed.
I took a steadying breath. "Just answer me," I said, watching his reaction closely, "Say something that would make me believe you."
His face fell. He reached for me, but I stepped back.
"Evelyn, it's not what you think," Lucas started, his voice soft. "The condo was already decorated before we met. I just… I asked for a second opinion from you, that's all. Evelyn, everything I've done to get close to you is because I love you."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. For a moment, they stunned me into silence.
Then, fury roared back to life, eclipsing any fleeting sentiment. I shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble a step.
"I saw everything, Lucas," I said, the sharp edge of betrayal slicing through my words. "You didn't bother calling me so we could leave together. Instead, I saw you leave the center with Clara. I know Clara is here. Don't lie to my face and then tell me you love me."
Lucas raised his hands in surrender, his tone desperate. "Please, Evelyn. It's not what it looks like. Just give me a chance to explain."
"Explain?" I laughed, the sound bitter. "That's what I've been waiting for. But since you won't, maybe I'll find out myself."
As I pushed past him, Lucas grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not forceful. "Evelyn, don't do this," he pleaded. "You don't understand, you'll ruin everything."
"No, Lucas. You don't understand," I hissed, wrenching my arm free. "I'm done listening to your lies. And I'll uncover whatever game you're playing."
I turned, heading inside, my every step fueled by anger. Lucas's hand shot out, grabbing my arm.
"Evelyn, don't do this," he said urgently, his voice teetering on panic. "You don't understand. You'll ruin everything."
Ignoring his protests, I stormed up the stairs, each step fueled by a simmering rage that clawed at my control. My pulse pounded in my ears, a relentless war drum driving me forward.
Betrayal twisted like a knife in my gut. What was Clara doing here? What was Lucas hiding?
The air felt electric, charged with my anger. My nails lengthened slightly, scraping against the wooden banister, and a strange heat rippled beneath my skin.
"Evelyn!" Lucas yelled, his voice tight, pleading. I ignored him.
As I reached the top of the stairs, faint music seeped through the crack of the closed door. My breath caught. The truth lay just beyond it, dark and damning. My hand trembled as it hovered over the door handle.
"Evelyn, wait," Lucas's voice was closer now, and his hand brushed my arm. "You need to calm down. Look at yourself."
I glanced at him over my shoulder, irritation flaring. His eyes weren't on my face... they were on my hands. My fingers had elongated, the nails sharpened into claws. The telltale signs of a shift were crawling across my skin.
"Take it easy," Lucas said softly, a note of alarm creeping into his voice. "You're turning."
His words hit me like a splash of cold water, but instead of calming me, they stoked the fire. My emotions churned uncontrollably, and the ripple beneath my skin grew stronger.
Lucas stepped closer, his hand reaching for mine. His expression was desperate, his next move calculated. "Let me help you," he murmured, his lips inches from mine. Before I could process it, he leaned in, his intent unmistakable.
I jerked back, fury and disbelief colliding. "Don't," I hissed, my voice low and edged with a growl. "Don't you dare try to stop me like this."
His hand faltered mid-air as he tried one last time. "Don't do this."
As I pulled free from him, my determination was unshaken. "Watch me," I said coldly and threw the door open.