Chapter 7 Make him Mine

Eva sauntered into the Smith mansion with all the grace of a woman who had just conquered the world. Her heels echoed against the polished marble tiles, her skin glowing from the warmth of the Barcelona sun, and her designer suitcase rolled behind her like a prized accessory. She tossed her sunglasses onto the console table and sighed dramatically, collapsing onto the velvet couch like a diva returning to her throne. Her eyes swept across the room with bored disdain. "Felicia!" she called lazily. "Come get my bags.

I'm exhausted from carrying the Spanish film industry on my back." Silence answered her. She frowned. "Felicia?" Still no reply. Irene emerged from the hallway, dressed in her signature crisp ivory blouse-the one she wore whenever she wanted to project control. But today, her face was tighter than usual. Not just stern. There was something else etched into her expression-resentment, perhaps... or guilt. Eva perked up. "Mum? Where is your pathetic stepdaughter?" "She left," Irene replied flatly, folding her arms as she crossed the room. Eva blinked. "What do you mean she left?" she asked, straightening up on the couch, the edges of her smile faltering. "She caught Jaden in bed with Emily," Irene said gruffly, her words clipped and bitter. "And she left." Eva stared at her, momentarily stunned. Then she let out a sharp, dry chuckle. "That's it?" she scoffed. "She caught her precious fiancé and her loyal best friend together and just ran off into the night?" Her lips curled into a wicked grin. "Honestly, I expected something more. Maybe a slap, some tears, a dramatic fainting scene..." She stood up, slowly pacing like a lioness circling a wounded deer. "Jaden is a cute guy. Charming. Powerful. Very touchable," she added with a wicked glint. "Felicia's just greedy. She didn't want to share her man with her best friend?" She rolled her eyes. "How selfish can one girl be?" Irene opened her mouth to reply, but a voice cut through the air-deep, cold, and commanding. "Are you even listening to yourself?" Eva froze. Her body stiffened as she turned. Mr. Smith stood at the entrance of his study, his face unreadable, eyes burning with quiet rage. His hands were clenched by his sides. "You mean your sister should share her fiancé with her best friend?" he asked, voice low and laced with disgust. Eva's nose wrinkled in irritation. "Oh, Dad, please. She's not my sister." "She is my daughter," Mr. Smith said firmly, stepping further into the room, voice now rising. "Born of my own blood. You may not like her, but you will acknowledge her as part of this family." He held Eva's gaze a moment longer before turning and walking away, the sound of his footsteps echoing like a judgment neither of them could outrun. Silence fell. Irene's jaw was tight, her eyes lingering on the doorway he had disappeared through. Something dark flickered in her gaze-rage or fear, it was hard to tell. "What was that about?" she muttered, more to herself than to Eva. Eva's practiced confidence began to fray. Her lower lip trembled, and she turned to her mother, voice small and tight. "Mum... Felicia is a threat to me in this house," she whispered. "Dad looks at her like she's some prized possession. Like she's the one that matters." Irene pulled her daughter into a stiff, maternal embrace, smoothing back her curls like she used to when Eva was a child terrified of thunder. "She can't be a threat," Irene said softly, coldly. "Not under my watch." Eva looked up at her mother, desperation gleaming in her eyes. "Please... do something, Mummy." "I'll make sure she stays in Cape Town," Irene murmured. "She'll never come back." "Promise?" Eva pouted, heading for the staircase with slow, theatrical steps. Just then, a soft ding sounded from Irene's phone. I'm at the guest house, baby. She stiffened. Her eyes darted around the room. No one in sight. Without another word, she slipped her phone into her clutch and disappeared out the side door, heels clicking with urgency. Meanwhile, Upstairs in Eva's Room... Eva kicked off her heels with a huff and threw herself onto her plush bed, the satin sheets cool beneath her sun-kissed skin. The smile she wore downstairs had faded now, replaced with a smirk born of resentment and twisted satisfaction. She stared up at the chandelier, letting the silence settle. "Felicia is just so... dumb," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Having a cute and powerful man like Jaden was every woman's dream. Every smart woman's ambition. Yet Felicia, in all her doe-eyed innocence, had no idea what she had in her grasp she thought. Eva's fingers toyed with the edge of a silk pillow. "I've been secretly in love with him for years," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the faint hum of the AC. "But he only ever had eyes for her." Her lips curled in disdain. Felicia, with her soft voice and gentle heart. Felicia, who never had to fight for attention because it was handed to her like a gift wrapped in gold. And now? Jaden had betrayed her with Emily of all people. Eva scoffed. "Emily isn't even that pretty," she sneered, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. "She's got that fake charm, the kind that fools idiots. But Felicia? God, she's the biggest fool I've ever known." She paused, then chuckled darkly. "I always knew Emily wasn't genuine. The way she clung to Felicia, it was pathetic. But it's her cross to carry now." Her nails tapped rhythmically against her thigh, her thoughts spinning. Maybe this is my chance... The words slithered into her mind like a snake through tall grass. Maybe Jaden needed comfort. Maybe he'd realize Felicia was never the one. Maybe, finally, he would look at her the way she'd always wanted. Her chuckle deepened. "Maybe he'll be mine." She leaned back against the headboard, a glint of hunger in her eyes. And this time, she wouldn't play the silent admirer.