The warehouse was a suffocating tomb of dust and uncirculated air. Evelyn and Jade had been hauling heavy black bags of winter stock for hours, their lungs stinging with every breath. By the time 3:30 PM rolled around, the official end of the morning shift. No one had come to release them.
"How did you put up with Rosie before I got here?" Evelyn panted, dragging a massive bag of parkas to a clear spot on the floor. Sweat soaked her uniform, making the fabric cling to her skin.
"To be honest," Jade said, wiping Evelyn's forehead with a crumpled tissue, "she was always a bit of a snake, but she never went this far. Did you do something to her in a past life?"
"She's Tanya's cousin," Evelyn muttered, the realization bitter on her tongue. "I never gave her the time of day back when the Meyers name meant something. Now that I'm down, she's making sure I stay there."
Jade shook her head, offering a small, supportive smile. "Well, at least we're in this together."
Evelyn leaned over and planted a quick, grateful kiss on Jade's cheek.
"Whoa! Sis Lyn, you scared me!" Jade laughed, clutching her heart. "Can you stop calling me that, and just call me Evelyn? And you're way too playful for someone who just spent four hours in a dust bowl."
"Hmm, if I don't laugh, I'll cry," Evelyn admitted. "And, it feels awkward to call you 'Evelyn', but, I will try." And Evelyn smiled.
They worked for another two hours in the sweltering heat before the floor supervisor finally poked her head in. "You two can go. Manager Dan left ages ago."
Evelyn felt a surge of pure homicidal ideation. Rosie had gone home to her air-conditioned house while they sat in a warehouse because she "forgot" to dismiss them.
By the time Evelyn reached the villa, she was a shell of a human being. She bypassed Mrs. May and went straight for the bathtub, soaking until the grime of the warehouse and the memory of the red down jacket felt miles away.
When she finally went downstairs for dinner, she ate with a feral intensity that made the housekeeper blink in surprise.
"Slow down, dear," Mrs. May said gently. "How was work? Was it... fulfilling?"
"It was a battlefield," Evelyn replied between bites.
"Well, I have some news, Mr. Thorn called. He's coming home tonight."
Evelyn nearly choked on her soup. "Tonight? I thought he was 'living at the office' for the foreseeable future?"
"Plans change," Mrs. May said, patting her back.
Evelyn retreated to the sofa afterward, scrolling through her phone to distract herself. The headlines were dominated by one name: Michael Thorn. As the CEO of Thorn International, he had officially consolidated his power over the city's business sectors Mechanical, oil, Real Estate, Tech, and even the very mall she was currently scrubbing floors in.
She typed his name into a search engine. No results found. The man was a ghost in the digital world, despite owning half of it. He controlled the narrative so tightly that not even a stray photo existed. It was terrifying to think she was legally bound to a shadow.
At 9:30 PM, the bedroom door swung open. Michael stood there, the literal embodiment of the power she'd just been reading about. He tossed his briefcase aside and began unbuttoning his cuffs. He smelled faintly of expensive scotch and woodsmoke.
Evelyn stood up, her silk pajamas fluttering. As he moved closer, a flash of color caught her eye. On the crisp white collar of his shirt was a perfect, unmistakable smudge of red lipstick.
The air in the room turned sour instantly. "Had a productive meeting?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The 'flowers' seem to be in full bloom at Thorn International."
Michael glanced at his reflection, his eyes turning arctic as he saw the mark. The supervisor is a dead man tomorrow, he thought.
"Are you tired?" he asked, ignoring her jab.
"I'm sure the women at your office aren't tired," she snapped.
"Go draw the water. I want a bath."
"Why? Afraid you'll smell like her all night?"
Michael didn't argue. He stepped forward, his large hand cupping the back of her neck as he silenced her defiance with a kiss that tasted of whiskey and possession. When he finally let her go, Evelyn was breathless and fuming.
"You think you can just kiss away the fact that you're a walking scandal?" she whispered.
"It worked, didn't it?" he replied arrogantly. He moved to pull her closer again, but Evelyn suddenly froze. She did a quick mental calculation of the date.
Oh, no. Not now.
"Wait! Michael, I... it's my time of the month," she stammered, her face heating up.
Michael stopped dead. The frustration on his face was almost comical. He looked like he wanted to punch a wall or fire an entire department.
"I don't have... supplies," she whispered, looking at the bed. "I need to go to the store."
Michael groaned, his brow furrowing in deep irritation. But instead of complaining, he reached for his discarded shirt.
"Stay there, Evelyn. Don't you dare move."
He turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. Evelyn sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. "Husband, thank you!" she called out, feeling a bit "dog-legged" and guilty.
"I didn't say I was going!" his cold voice echoed back, though the sound of the front door opening suggested otherwise.
Evelyn sat in the quiet room, her heart doing a strange little flip. Is the Iceberg actually going to buy me pads?
Twenty minutes later, just as Evelyn was considering risking a trip downstairs in her precarious state, the bedroom door clicked open.
Michael walked in and handed her a plastic bag. Inside were several packs of the most premium, organic sanitary pads the nearby market carried.
"Thank you, Michael!" Evelyn beamed, her eyes crinkling into crescents. Michael's face, however, remained stony and dark, as if he had just completed a high-stakes back-alley deal rather than a pharmacy run.
To show her gratitude, Evelyn insisted on drawing his bath before she retreated to the safety of the bed. The exhaustion of the warehouse finally hit her, and she drifted off. Sometime in the night, she felt a broad, warm chest press against her back. Half-asleep, she rolled over into his arms, leaving the "beast" of a man to suffer the consequences of his own self-restraint.
The next morning, Evelyn was jolted awake by a muffled, angry sound. It was 7:30 AM. She squinted through her messy hair and saw Michael sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands with an expression of pure, unadulterated hatred.
There was a smear of red across his palm.
"Are you hurt?" Evelyn scrambled up, panic rising. "Where's the first aid kit?"
Michael looked at her, his voice drifting out like a cold mist. "I'm not hurt."
Evelyn froze. She looked at his hand again, then at the sheets, and finally realized the "injury" was hers. She quickly covered her mouth to hide a giggle.
Michael surged out of bed and strode into the bathroom. She could hear the water running for a long time, he must have washed his hands at least five times. When he finally emerged, Evelyn was still shaking with suppressed laughter. She tried to wipe the grin off her face the moment she saw him.
"Don't look at me like that! I didn't do it on purpose," she said, raising her hands in a mock surrender.
He didn't speak, simply beginning to dress in a fresh suit. He hooked a finger toward her, signaling her over like a disobedient puppy. "Come here. Tie this."
Evelyn rolled her eyes but stepped in to fix his tie. She was surprisingly fast; she had practiced this with her father for years.
"So skilled?" Michael asked, his voice dropping into a strange, low register.
"I used to do it for my father," she replied. His eyes softened at the mention of her family, the coldness momentarily receding.
Downstairs, the atmosphere was awkward. Michael sat across from her at the breakfast table, staring at his toast as if it had offended him. He clearly had no appetite after the morning's "bloody" revelation. Evelyn, meanwhile, was fighting a losing battle against her own amusement.
A staff brought over a cup of hot milk tea for Evelyn. "You better rest at home today and not go anywhere!" The man's cold voice stated.
Evelyn hesitated. On the first day of her cycle, she usually felt like she'd been run over by a truck. But then she thought of Rosie's smug face and made a decision "No, Michael, I'm fine. I should go."
"You aren't going," Michael deadpanned, his voice brooks no argument. He pulled out his phone. "Dominic, find out exactly where my wife is working and call in her leave for the day."
Evelyn gasped. "Don't I get a vote in this?"
Michael ignored her, finishing his coffee gracefully. Michael's assistant Dominic Cassian was efficient; within minutes, he had traced her to the Horizon Mall.
"The Horizon Mall? That's the Watson's brat's territory," Michael noted, his eyes narrowing. "Why are you working there?"
"Because Jade is there," Evelyn answered simply. She didn't want to mention Tail. He was a non-entity now.
"Stay home and rest," Michael commanded. He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. Evelyn watched his back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Go on then, you 'old man'! Go work! Watch your blood pressure!"
At the door, Michael paused, tapped his phone screen a few times, and stepped out. Seconds later, Evelyn's phone buzzed.
My Husband: When you're feeling better, I'll show you exactly how 'old' I am.
Evelyn's face went scarlet. She typed back furiously: "Mr. Thorn, I was wrong! You are young, handsome, and in your prime!"
Sitting in the back of his car, Michael saw the reply and felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a rare, genuine smile.
My Husband: Good. I'll expect a reward for my youth once you've recovered.
Evelyn threw her phone onto the sofa. Is this man ever not thinking about his 'rewards'?
She spent the morning curled up with a heating pad, eventually calling Jade.
"Evie? Manager Lan is fuming," Jade whispered from the break room. She had finally dropped the 'Sis Lyn!' and moved on to Evie. "The mall General Manager personally called her to grant your leave. Her face is literally turning purple."
"Good," Evelyn laughed. "Let her turn into a grape."
After hanging up, Evelyn felt a sudden urge to settle an old score. She opened a game on her phone: Ice Devil. She and Tail had been top-tier players for years, even "marrying" their avatars in-game months ago.
She navigated to the Marriage Emissary and clicked [Unilateral Divorce].
The game's world-chat exploded. The two highest ranked players in the server were splitting up. Within seconds, notifications flooded her screen.
Meanwhile, in his office, Tail Watson was reviewing a document when his phone pinged:
System Alert: Your 'Ice Devil' marriage has been successfully terminated by the other party.