Evangeline stood there for a moment, the phone still in her hand.
Then she took a deep breath, put the phone down and made her way back to bedroom.
She had just enough time to change into the black dress she had chosen and try to fix her hair.
The knock came just as the grand clock in the hall chimed twelve, punctual as ever.
She opened the door to find one of the maids holding a pink box with a well-known logo of an expensive Italian shoe brand "Bellarucci".
"These arrived for you, Miss," she said.
She took the box with a soft smile mumbling thanks to the maid, she closed the door behind the maid as she turned to leave.
The box was made of the finest cardboard, with a velvety feel to it.
Lifting the lid, she found a pair of black stiletto kitten heels nestled in a bed of tissue paper.
They were simple, yet elegant, with a slim ankle strap that screamed 'expensive'.
"These should do," Evangeline whispered to herself.
Her fingers peeled back the tissue paper. She took one shoe in her hand, feeling the coolness of it against her palm.
She slipped her foot into it.
She stood up, taking a tentative step forward. The heel was just the right height to make her legs look elegant, but not so high that she would struggle to walk.
Evangeline went to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and looked at herself.
The dress hugged her curves, the neckline high enough to cover the hickeys Vincent had left on her body last night.
She took a deep breath and thought about her situation.
She didn't want to be the cause of anyone else's pain, especially her mother or anyone else.
She knew that her escape attempt had put Sara in the hospital, and she couldn't bear the thought of anyone else getting hurt because of her.
Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she whispered to herself, "I'll have to make the best of this." She adjusted the neckline of the dress, "Maybe if I play along, I can find a way to change him. To make him see that I'm more than just a doll he thinks."
She reached up to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, her eyes locking on the ring that now adorned her finger.
She had to accept this life now. Her mother's safety depended on it.
"Vincente," she whispered to her reflection, "maybe there's a way to reach you. I accept you as my husband from now on and... I accept this life."
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
She took one last look at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
A young maid stood before her, her eyes downcast. "Miss," she said softly, "Sir Castellanos is waiting for you in the car."
She gave nod. "Thank you," she murmured.
The young girl curtsied before retreating, closing the door gently behind her.
Evangeline took a moment to gather her courage, then she stepped out of the bedroom.
The hallway was long.
As she approached the grand entrance, the heavy wooden doors opened by the two young maid's when they saw her, revealing the gleaming black Rolls-Royce parked outside.
Evangeline stepped outside, the warmth of the sun on her face.
The gravel crunched beneath her new shoes as she descended the stairs.
A guard in a tailored black suit and dark sunglasses stepped forward, opening the car door for her with a nod.
"Thank you," she murmured.
The guard just nodded and didn't dare smile knowing very well what could happen smiling at the wife of the Don.
Vincent was already in the car, his handsome profile etched in the light as he talked on the phone.
He was dressed in an impeccable black suit that contrasted sharply with the white of his shirt.
His eyes flicked to her as she sat down, but his attention quickly returned to his call.
Then the car pulled away from the mansion,
"I don't care what it takes," he growled into the receiver.
The words hit Evangeline like a sledgehammer, bouncing around the confines of the luxurious car, filling the space with his frustration.
She watched his jaw tighten, the cords in his neck standing out as he clenched the phone in his fist.
"I don't care what it takes," he repeated, his voice a round angry growl. "That place is going to be mine, and I expect no delays."
Vincent slammed the phone onto the armrest.
He turned to her, his gaze sharp and assessing. Evangeline felt his anger like a physical weight in the small space of the car, crushing her spirits.
For a moment, she thought he was going to say something cruel, but instead, his eyes softened, and he took in her appearance with a critical eye. "You look...acceptable," he praised her.
It was not a compliment, but it was not an insult either. She felt a flicker of relief that she had at least met his expectations.
Vincent's gaze lingered on her face, his eyes lingering.
"You had lunch?" he asked, his tone more curious than concerned.
Evangeline shook her head, "No," she said, her voice small. "I wasn't hungry."
Vincent raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, his gaze lingering on her before returning to the passing scenery outside the car window.
Evangeline ventured a question "Did you have lunch, Sir?" She asked.
Vincent's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, clearly surprised by the inquiry. "Yes," he replied.
Evangeline just said "oh" and sat back in the plush leather seat, her eyes straying to the window.
Her long brown hair fell open like a curtain around her face, obscuring her view of the passing scenery.
She reached up to tie it back into a loose bun, her hands trembling slightly with nerves.
The wind from the open car window played with the loose strands.
As she worked, she felt Vincente's gaze on her, heavy and possessive.
She avoided looking at him, focusing instead on the simple task of twisting her hair into a knot.
His eyes followed her every move, his expression unreadable. When she finally managed to secure the bun, she turned to face him.