EVELYN POV
"Jason! What the fuck?"
He only smirked with his arm wrapped lazily around Sasha, who leaned in close and licked his cheek, with her gaze never leaving mine. "Looks like your girlfriend's here..." she purred.
Jason laughed, shrugging as if I were just a stranger in the room. "Told you we broke up."
My blood ran cold. "We never broke up, Jason!" I yelled, stepping forward as he let out a scoffing laugh.
"What's wrong with you!" he shot back, adjusting his shirt with a look of annoyed disdain. "Why do you keep following me everywhere? Obsessed much?"
Obsessed? Wasn't he the same guy who was once begging me and doing everything he could to win me over?
Sasha rolled her eyes and buttoned his shirt. "It's not her fault," she murmured with a smirk. "Who could resist you?"
"Literally in the morning, you proposed to me…" I let out my rage, "And now you're here fucking my sister!"
She stepped towards me, her face inches from mine. "Maybe you should try respecting your sister—sorry, step-sister," she corrected with a fake pout, "before things get ugly. You wouldn't want Mom finding out what you said about her, right?"
"I didn't say a word," Jason sneered, raising his hands in mock innocence. "I swear!"
Sasha laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, Eve," she sighed, glancing down at me with mock pity. "What did you expect? No guy would fall for… well, this," she said, gesturing vaguely at me. "Especially not after having a taste of the real thing."
Rage and shame burned through me. I wanted to scream, hit something, anything to let it all out. I wanted to tear them apart, to make them feel even a fraction of the pain ripping through me—but I couldn't. I was a nobody to them, just someone they could hurt without consequence. An orphan without a soul in the world to care.
Sasha smirked, turning to Jason with a calculating look. "And you…" she murmured, letting her hand drift along his collar. "I think I need to teach you some manners."
Jason only laughed, unfazed. "Babe, I told you—we'd already broke up," he said, wrapping his arm around her waist as he pulled her close. "Why would I ever trade a goddess like you for… well, her?"
The words hit me like a slap. Two years. We had spent two years together, shared our lives, and he'd even proposed right before my father…
"Argh..." I groaned, squinting against the morning light. "It's been a year. Why the hell am I still dreaming about that day?"
It was all his fault. After Mom died, he'd married a woman half his age—a gold-digger with two daughters of her own: Sasha and Quin, my new stepsisters. Being his only daughter, I'd grown up with privileges most people only dream of. I dated the hottest guy at college, and my stepsisters acted like I was royalty, playing the part of dutiful siblings. As for my stepmother… the mask came off the moment my father died. She showed her true colors with a cold finality I hadn't seen coming.
Everything that was happening now could be traced back to Dad. He'd left me with people he'd naively called family, but I knew better. One thing was certain in my mind—they had something to do with his death—a brutal, calculated murder, twenty gunshots to his face, leaving nothing but a mutilated shell. I could barely look at him, knowing he'd been taken from me leaving me on my own with his new so-called family.
The early morning sun cast a weak, pale glow over the worn-out space I called home. It wasn't really a room—it was the basement, where the water heater and washing machines rattled constantly. The walls were bare, stripped of paint or wallpaper, and there were no cupboards or comforts. Sometimes the pipes leaked, soaking my thin mattress and forcing me to sleep on a damp bed.
I could feel my body heavy with exhaustion from the previous day's arduous work. As I changed my clothes, I caught a glimpse of myself in the cracked mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. My tired eyes stared back, carrying a burden I'd inherited the day my father was taken from me. A burden made of bitterness, grief, and a relentless hunger for revenge.
As I headed upstairs, Stacy, my stepmother, looked me over, sipping her coffee. "Did you do the laundry?"
"Yes," I muttered, "and I folded it,"
"Good," she replied coolly. "What are your plans for today?"
"College and then work," I answered, "Lisa is having her birthday party in the evening."
She arched an eyebrow. "So, you actually want to go to one of those filthy parties? With all the drugs, alcohol, and those sleazy boys? Especially after your precious ex dumped you for your sister?"
Sasha chimed in from the stairs with a triumphant grin. "I told you she was desperate."
"It's just a small get-together," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
Stacy sighed and crossed her arms, "Fine. You can go—if Sasha goes with you."
"What! Mom, no way!" Sasha objected.
I glanced from Sasha to Stacy, swallowing down the resentment clawing at my throat. Without another word, I turned and walked out. "I'll be back after work," I muttered, heading toward my bicycle. I rode toward college as my mind churned with questions I'd never get to ask. I wasn't the same girl anymore. The confidence, the bravery I once had—it all vanished the day Dad died. I was done fighting. Every penny of his fortune went to Stacy, and I was left wondering why. How could he leave me with nothing? Or was this just another one of Stacy's twisted schemes?
I pedaled hard to clear my mind and reached Lisa's dorm, letting myself in with the spare key. She was still asleep, her blankets pulled up to her chin. "Wake up, sleepyhead," I said, opening the curtains.
"Eve, it's too early!" she groaned, peeking from under the covers.
"Up, now," I insisted, heading to the bathroom to get ready. "We have Harris's class first thing, and you know he won't let you in if you're late."
She bolted up in bed, "Wait—Mr. Harris? Today?"
"Yeah," I replied with a grin, grabbing my books. "Catch up with me in the library."
I made my way to the library and began combing through shelves for books I needed for my assignment. Settling at a table, I arranged the stack in front of me, trying to focus. But as I opened the first book, memories of that day clawed their way back into my mind.
No killer would act without leaving some trace behind. There had to be something they overlooked
Caught between my obsession with revenge and the demands of my assignment, I barely noticed the low voices nearby until they broke through my thoughts, grabbing my attention.
"How could you do this, Shawn?" the girl demanded in a strained whisper.
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything," came the sarcastic reply, "It's your fault for thinking that sleeping with a guy makes you his girlfriend."
"Then what are we?" she cried. "For two weeks, all you wanted was to sleep with me, to act like this meant something. Was that it? Nothing more?"
"What else would I want from you?" he replied flatly, and I felt a sick twist of familiarity. Just another arrogant jerk, crushing someone's heart.
I caught a glimpse of the girl wiping her tears as she hurried away. They had been sitting just behind me. I wanted to turn around, to see the guy's face, but I didn't want him to realize I'd overheard everything. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man leaving the library. When I glanced back, the table behind me was empty. It had to be him.
Anger simmered in my veins, and my memories flooded back like everything happened yesterday. Guys like him never learned unless they were forced to. I bolted after him, following him through the winding paths around campus. I didn't know what I was doing, but my chest burned with the urge to confront him. But as I got closer, my confidence faltered.
Suddenly, he stopped and turned to face me. My body froze and rooted to the ground. I tried to look away, to escape his gaze, but his eyes locked onto mine, pulling me in. He took a step closer as his gaze swept over me from head to toe before his voice broke the silence, "Why are you following me?"
His athletic build, dark hair, piercing gray eyes, and the light beard framing his jaw left me struggling for words. It felt like they were stuck in my throat. "I… I heard what you said to her. In the library." I finally managed to speak.
He let out a soft chuckle, "And?"
"So you sleep with a girl and just walk away like it's nothing?"
He tilted his head gazing at me with those eyes. "Why does it matter to you?"
"Because it's disgusting," I shot back.
He took a step closer as his eyes locked on mine. "And what are you going to do about it?"
My back hit the wall and I could feel my pulse rise. He leaned in, his hand brushing up my arm, sending a chill down my spine. His fingers lightly touched my throat, firm but not forceful. I could see a smirk playing on his lips. "Tell me, should I let you off for eavesdropping, or should I teach you some manners?"
There was no space left for me to breathe. "I wasn't trying to intrude. I just…"
He pressed a finger to my lips, cutting me off. "Next time, mind your own business," he murmured and I could feel his breath warm against my skin. He took a slow, deliberate sniff of my hair, then his eyes flicked to mine one last time before he pulled back and walked away.
I had no idea what had just happened. Was he flirting with me, or was he trying to intimidate me? Either way, he had guts—I'd give him that much.
"What in the name of Holy Mary were you doing with him?" Lisa exclaimed with excitement as she rushed toward me. "Oh my gosh, Eve! Are you hooking up with Shawn Mancini?"