Chapter 3 THE NIGHT I WAS REPLACED

Evelyn's POV

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Damian told me about the dinner that morning.

"Be ready by seven," he said flatly, without looking up from his phone. "You'll look good on my arm."

That was the only reason I was invited - not because he wanted me beside him, but because he needed me to play a part.

Still, I agreed. Because part of me... still wanted to matter.

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I stood in front of the mirror for too long, second-guessing everything.

I finally settled on a simple black off-shoulder dress that hugged my waist but flowed at the legs. Elegant, understated. My makeup was soft - just a little blush, neutral eyeshadow, a touch of lipstick I hadn't worn in weeks. The heels were low, my hair fell in soft curls over one shoulder.

When I stepped out of the bedroom, Damian didn't look up. No compliment. No reaction.

He just grabbed his keys and said, "Don't be late."

---

The restaurant was luxury in every inch. Crystal chandeliers. Gold-lined menus. A scent of white wine and expensive secrets.

We were led to a private room where laughter was already spilling out - a dozen of Damian's business partners and guests gathered around a long glass table.

That's when I saw her. Lillian.

Already seated beside Damian's name card. A silk wine-red dress clung to her body like a secret she was proud to share. Her makeup was bold, hair in effortless waves. She looked like the cover of a fashion magazine.

And everyone was drinking her in.

---

My name card wasn't beside Damian's. It was three seats away, between two older men who barely acknowledged my presence.

Damian walked around the table and sat beside Lillian like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I sat slowly, my stomach twisting as the conversations picked up. Toasts. Laughter. Lillian's voice ringing above it all.

She leaned into Damian's ear once and he chuckled - that deep, genuine laugh I hadn't heard in months. Maybe years.

---

A man across the table stood to raise a glass. "To Damian and Lillian - the power couple we've all been waiting for!"

The room erupted into claps and grins.

My hands went cold.

Lillian just smiled. Sipped her wine with practiced grace. Damian?

He didn't say a word.

He didn't correct them.

He didn't even glance at me.

---

A woman leaned toward the man beside her and whispered - not quietly enough: "Wait... isn't that his wife?"

"No, I think they split."

"Then why is she here?"

---

I stared down at my plate, the food untouched.

My eyes lifted only once - and that's when I saw it.

The necklace.

Rose gold. Delicate. With a single teardrop diamond.

The same one I had pointed out to Damian months ago. I had whispered about it at a boutique, smiling, excited.

He'd laughed.

"Why do you always want to waste money on things that don't matter?" Now, there it was - around Lillian's neck.

Like it belonged there. Like I never existed.

---

In a conversation about Damian's "taste in women," someone joked, "He clearly has a type - sweet, quiet, obedient."

Lillian laughed, touching Damian's wrist gently. "He used to. But I think he's grown out of that." Everyone laughed.

Damian smiled.

My hand slipped off the table. I didn't even realize it was shaking. "I'll be right back," I whispered to no one in particular.

---

I walked to the restroom like a ghost.

Inside, I gripped the sink. My chest rose and fell quickly, my breath uneven. My lipstick had faded. My eyes were glassy.

I wiped my mouth clean and stared at my reflection.

"You are not crazy," I whispered. "You are not small."

But the woman in the mirror looked like she'd already been replaced.

---

When I returned to the table, someone had taken my seat.

I froze for a second, unsure of where to go - until I heard a low, smooth voice beside me.

"You can take this one," he said, pulling the chair out next to him. I turned.

And there he was.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Impossibly handsome.

A rich charcoal suit clung to his frame, tailored perfectly. His jaw was sharp, with faint stubble. His hands rested loosely on the table - one of them covered in dark tattoos that peeked beneath his shirt cuff and disappeared under his sleeve.

He looked expensive.

Like power dressed in silence.

But it wasn't just that.

It was the way he looked at me.

Not like I was broken. Not like I was pitiful.

He looked at me like I was real.

I sat down, stunned by the weight of his presence.

He didn't speak for a moment. Just watched the table quietly, like he was studying the room.

Then he leaned in slightly and said, "That was brutal."

I blinked, startled. "Excuse me?"

His voice was calm, quiet - meant only for me. "Everything they just did. That? It wasn't subtle. And it wasn't deserved."

I didn't know what to say.

He turned his face to me fully then - dark eyes meeting mine. "I'm Rafael," he said, offering a hand.

I hesitated... then placed mine in his.

Warm. Firm. Unshaken.

"And you," he added with a slight tilt of his head, "don't belong at the end of any table."

---

I didn't know who this man was.

But he saw me.

And for the first time in a long time... I felt it. "Evelyn"

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