Chapter 3

Evelyn POV:

Belen' s face contorted in a mask of impotent rage, but I simply turned away, already done with her dramatics. She could shriek all she wanted. Her words held no power over me anymore.

My father sighed again, clearly eager to be rid of the whole mess. "Just make sure the wedding is discreet, Evelyn. We don' t need any more scandals."

I nodded, already planning. No lavish affair, no grand pronouncements. Just a quiet ceremony, a new beginning. My new life wouldn' t be built on superficial displays. It would be built on solid ground, brick by brick.

The Salinas family might be struggling, but they had a solid foundation. An ancient lineage, rich in history, though perhaps lacking in immediate funds. I would need to be resourceful. I always had been.

I spent the next few days preparing, not for a grand wedding, but for a new life. I packed my essentials, retrieved some personal savings I had secretly squirreled away over the years. I wouldn't be a burden to Ingram. I would be a partner.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. I opened the door to find Ingram Salinas standing there.

My breath caught.

He was taller than I remembered, his frame lean and elegantly built. His hair, dark as midnight, fell over eyes that were an unusual shade of amber, flecked with gold. They held a quiet intensity, a depth that hinted at hidden intelligence and unspoken emotions. His face was sharp, aristocratic, yet softened by a subtle hint of vulnerability around his mouth. He wasn't conventionally "handsome" like Dedric, who possessed a flashy, almost theatrical charm. Ingram's beauty was understated, profound, something you had to look closely to appreciate.

In his hands, he held a small, intricately carved wooden box. It wasn't ornate or flashy, but the craftsmanship was exquisite, the wood glowing with an inner warmth.

"Good evening, Evelyn," he said, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly warm. "I brought you something for our ceremony. A family tradition."

He offered the box. I took it, my fingers brushing his. His skin was cool, smooth.

Inside, nestled on a bed of dark velvet, was a silver hair comb. It was delicate, fashioned into the shape of a blooming moonpetal-a flower unique to the Salinas ancestral lands, said to only open under the rarest lunar cycles. Each petal was inlaid with tiny, iridescent scales, shimmering with an otherworldly glow. It was beautiful. More beautiful than any diamond tiara Dedric had ever promised me. It felt ancient, sacred, infused with meaning.

"This is..." I started, genuinely touched. "It's exquisite, Ingram."

He looked at me, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. He wasn't used to praise. "It belonged to my mother," he said, his gaze distant for a moment. "And her mother before her. It represents loyalty and enduring connection."

He seemed so different from the cold, aloof man society perceived him to be. So thoughtful. So kind.

"If you don't like it, we can find something else," he added, his eyes searching mine, as if afraid he had offended me.

"No, it's perfect," I assured him, my voice soft. "More than perfect. Thank you, Ingram."

A small, genuine smile touched his lips, transforming his usually serious face. It was like watching a rare flower bloom.

Just then, Belen's voice, startlingly loud and saccharine, sliced through the quiet moment.

"Evelyn, darling! Look who's here!"

She swept into the room, arm-in-arm with Dedric. Her left hand was conspicuously placed on her still-flat abdomen, a gesture that was both premature and deeply obnoxious. Dedric, meanwhile, wore a self-satisfied smirk, his eyes sweeping over me, then lingering on Ingram with a look of barely concealed disdain.

"Dedric and I just wanted to wish you luck," Belen chirped, her eyes darting to the hair comb still in my hand. Her lip curled slightly. "Though I'm sure you'll manage. We, on the other hand, are already planning for a much more... significant future."

Dedric's gaze was fixed on Belen, a possessive, almost predatory gleam in his eyes. He saw her as the vessel for his legacy, the fertile ground for his ambition. His look was one of utter devotion, the kind I had once foolishly yearned for. But I knew it was hollow. It was devotion to a means, not to a person.

He desired the idea of the heir, not the woman carrying it. Belen, blinded by her own victory, saw only the adoration. She was willingly walking into a cage, believing it was a gilded throne.

I saw Ingram subtly stiffen beside me, his hand unconsciously clenching at his side. His amber eyes, usually so calm, now held a flicker of protective anger.

He stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on my lower back, a silent gesture of solidarity.

"Evelyn will have everything she deserves," Ingram stated, his low voice cutting through Belen's smug pronouncements. His gaze, usually so passive, was now firm, meeting Dedric's without flinching. "And unlike some, I will value her, not just for what she can give me, but for who she is. Our future will be built on respect, loyalty, and true affection. Not on titles or bloodlines."