The next morning, a knock echoed through the silent room. It was distant, almost muffled, but Evans heard it.
"Mr. Vose, I'm sorry it took us so long to find you," Erick Hill's voice carried a tinge of guilt. "The Hays Company has been handled. They went bankrupt overnight, and all loose ends have been closed."
Evans sat up slowly. His head felt clearer now, but the weight in his chest was heavier than ever.
Cherry lay curled beneath the silk sheets, her small frame still, her breathing soft.
For a long moment, he just stared.
The woman before him looked so delicate, like a single touch could shatter her. Her long lashes fanned over pale cheeks, her pink lips slightly parted in sleep.
Guilt curled through his chest. It was an unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling.
He had taken something from her. Something that could never be undone.
His jaw clenched.anyone who was involved in drugging him would pay.
But first, Cherry.
Evans exhaled, running a hand through his tousled hair before leaning closer. He reached out, brushing a stray curl from her cheek with surprising gentleness.
She didn't stir.
His throat tightened. "I'm sorry," he murmured, knowing the words were meaningless. Knowing she wouldn't hear them.
But actions spoke louder than words.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small silver ring—his family heirloom, a symbol of responsibility. A silent promise.
Carefully, he slid it onto her delicate finger.
One last glance at her peaceful face, and then he stood, adjusting his cufflinks. Without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing through the door.
***
A dull ache throbbed in Cherry's body, dragging her back into consciousness.
The world felt strange. Hazy. Too heavy, too unfamiliar.
For a brief, blissful moment, she forgot where she was.
Then she moved.
Pain—sharp, deep, unrelenting—shot through her body, pulling a strangled gasp from her lips. A slow, sinking feeling settled in her stomach.
Something was wrong.
Her lashes fluttered open.
The dim morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the expensive room. The air smelled faintly of cologne, mixed with something richer—whiskey, maybe.
And then she saw it.
Her clothes—crumpled, torn—were scattered across the floor.
The white silk sheets beneath her were*stained red. Her breath caught.
Her heart pounded violently, each beat slamming into her ribs with an unbearable force.
She felt sick.
The blood was proof.
Proof that she wasn't imagining it. Proof that she had lost something she could never take back.
Her fingers clutched the sheets, knuckles turning white. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to **think.**
'evans wood'
The name hit her like a thunderclap.
A stranger. A man she had never spoken to before last night. A man she barely even knew.
Cherry swallowed hard, her throat dry. Her hands trembled as she forced herself to sit up, ignoring the sharp protest of her muscles.
The bed beside her was empty. He was gone.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She felt small, like a ghost of herself, like someone had stripped away a part of her and left her hollow.
Then something cold slid against her skin.
Cherry glanced down. A ring. A silver band, delicate yet heavy, rested on her finger. The design was intricate, expensive.
A mockery.
A **mark of ownership.** A **silent apology.** A **promise she never asked for.**
Her chest tightened. **He left this—but not a single word.**
A sharp, bitter laugh bubbled up her throat, but it died before it could escape.
She yanked the ring off and shoved it into her bag, her hands shaking.
She wouldn't keep it. She wouldn't keep **anything** from him.
Get up. Get out. Forget this ever happened.
Cherry swung her legs over the side of the bed, but the moment her feet touched the floor, another wave of pain crashed over her.
She sucked in a sharp breath, blinking back the **burning in her eyes.**
No. She wouldn't cry.
Her fingers fumbled as she grabbed her clothes from the floor, slipping them on with unsteady hands. Every movement was a struggle—her limbs felt foreign, her skin too tight, her heart **too heavy.**
By the time she buttoned her blouse, **tears blurred her vision.**
She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.
With one last look at the ruined sheets, **Cherry ran.**
***
The streets of Ashbourne bustled with life, but Cherry barely noticed.
Her legs carried her forward on instinct, her bag clutched tightly in her trembling hands. People stared as she passed—at her disheveled hair, her tear-streaked face, the dazed look in her eyes—but she ignored them.
She just needed to get **home.**
By the time she reached her small apartment, her hands were numb from gripping her bag too tightly. She fumbled with the keys, shoving them into the lock and twisting it open.
The door swung inward.
Inside, **Lena**, her roommate and closest friend, was sprawled on the couch, casually munching on an apple. She barely glanced up—until she saw Cherry.
Her expression changed in an instant.
"Cherry?" Lena sat up, her eyes narrowing. "What happened to you?"
Cherry hesitated.
On the way here, she had rehearsed a dozen lies—excuses, reasons to brush it off. But now, standing there, with her body aching and her chest burning, she couldn't say a single word.
Lena's gaze swept over her—her wrinkled clothes, her messy hair, the way her **hands wouldn't stop shaking.**
"Cherry." This time, her voice was sharper. "What. Happened?"
Cherry forced a smile. "I'm fine." The moment she said it, the dam broke.
Tears spilled over, **fast, uncontrollable**, her shoulders shaking as the weight of the night crushed her.
She turned away, pressing her palms against her eyes, but it was useless.
Lena was by her side in seconds, pulling her into a tight hug. "Shh, it's okay," she whispered. "You don't have to talk. Just cry."
And so Cherry did.
She cried for her innocence.
She cried for her helplessness.
She cried for the man who took it all and disappeared—leaving behind nothing but a ring.
And then,she fainted ,being unconscious through the entire day.