Chapter 4 The Man With Power

Evelyn's POV

The man's gray eyes lingered on me, his smirk unwavering, as if he knew more about me than I was comfortable with. I narrowed my eyes, gripping the edge of my glass. I hated the look he had on him. His face looked familiar, like I had seen him before.

"Not in the mood for small talk," I said, forcing my voice to stay even.

He chuckled, a deep, low sound that made me feel as though I was the punchline of some private joke. "Suit yourself," he replied smoothly, lifting his glass to his lips.

I turned away, determined to ignore him, but his presence loomed. Something about him felt unsettlingly familiar, though I couldn't place it. Maybe it was his confidence-the kind that came from wielding power-and the way it grated against my already raw nerves.

"Bartender, another round," he called, his voice slicing through the haze of bar chatter.

"Sure thing, Mr. Knight."

Knight. The name jolted something in my memory, but before I could dwell on it, my phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen and groaned.

It was Mr. Greenwood again. The persistent calls were starting to fray what little patience I had left.

"Miss Evelyn, you really need to come back-"

"I don't need to do anything," Mr. Greenwood," I snapped, cutting him off. "I lost. There's nothing left to discuss."

"There's something you need to know-"

I hung up, tossing the phone into my bag with a frustrated sigh. It wasn't his fault, but I couldn't handle another conversation about the company's downfall.

"You seem troubled," the man beside me said, and I felt his gaze again, studying me like a puzzle he intended to solve.

"Didn't we agree that it's none of your business?" I shot back, my tone sharper this time.

"Fair enough." He shrugged, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened.

I turned back to my drink, willing myself to forget the weight of the day. The company, my father's legacy, the smug faces of Veronica and Alice-it all came crashing down, threatening to drown me in anger and regret.

"I suppose it doesn't matter to you, does it?" he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Losing something that meant the world to you."

The words cut deeper than I expected, and I whipped around to face him, ready to unleash my fury. But the look in his eyes stopped me short. He wasn't mocking me. If anything, he seemed... curious.

"What do you know about losing anything?" I asked bitterly, my voice trembling.

He leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "More than you think."

The intensity in his tone unnerved me, and I found myself speechless. Who was this man? And why did it feel like he was peeling back layers I wasn't ready to show?

Before I could respond, he stood, dropping a bill on the counter. "You'll see me again," he said casually, as if it were a promise. Or a warning.

I watched him walk away, his tall frame disappearing into the crowd. Something about him left me unsettled, like a storm brewing on the horizon.

Shaking off the encounter, I finished my drink and left the bar. The night air was cool against my flushed skin, but it did little to calm the whirlwind in my mind.

As I walked to my car, the sound of an engine revving caught my attention. I froze as a sleek black sports car roared past, narrowly missing me.

"Hey!" I shouted, my heart pounding.

The car screeched to a halt a few feet ahead, and the driver stepped out. My stomach twisted when I saw who it was.

The man from the bar.

"You again?" I demanded, my voice rising.

He looked at me, unfazed. "You should watch where you're going."

"Are you serious? You nearly hit me!"

"And yet, here you are, unharmed," he said with a smirk, leaning casually against the car.

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling to the surface. "Who even are you? Do you just go around nearly running people over for fun?"

"He tilted his head, studying me again with that infuriating look, "said Evelyn Hart, daughter of Charles Hart. "You're having quite the day, aren't you?"

The way he said my name sent chills down my spine. "How do you know who I am?"

He straightened, his smirk fading. "Because your father's company is about to become mine."

The words hit me like a freight train. "What?"

"Knight Enterprises," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. We're acquiring Hart Industries. In fact, I was just finalizing the details when you walked into that boardroom earlier today."

My head spun as realization dawned. This man-this arrogant, smug stranger-was the reason Veronica and Alice were so confident. He was the buyer they'd been banking on.

"You're buying my father's company?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gray eyes locked on mine. "It's a solid investment. Or, at least, it will be once it's out of your stepmother's hands."

Rage and humiliation warred within me. "You don't care about the workers, the legacy, any of it. You just see dollar signs."

"Business is business," Miss. "Hart," he said, his tone cold.

I took a step closer, my hands trembling. "This company isn't just a business to me. It's my family's history. My parents' blood, sweat, and tears."

"And now, it's mine," he said, his voice soft but cutting.

Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "You're just like Veronica. Heartless and greedy."

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "You don't know me."

"Do I need to?" I snapped.

For a moment, he didn't respond. Then, without warning, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "If you want to save what's left of your father's legacy, call me. Maybe we can make a deal."

I stared at the card, my pride warring with my desperation. "Why would you help me?"

He smiled, a cold, enigmatic smile. "Let's just say I enjoy a challenge."

Before I could respond, he got back into his car and drove off, leaving me standing there, clutching the card like it was my last hope.

I looked down at the name printed in bold letters: Alexander Knight, CEO of Knight Enterprises.

The man who had nearly run me over was now the one holding the fate of my father's company in his hands.