7. THE STUBBORN YOUNG MISS

After five days,

Evelyn stepped back and dusted her hands, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she admired her creation. Paint of every color speckled the floor, her hands, and even her nose, ears, and cheeks—a chaotic but joyful mess.

"Done!" she declared with a bright grin, turning to the butler who had been silently observing her progress. "What do you think, Grandpa?"

The butler's kind eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly. "Indeed, a great one, young miss. I didn't know you had such talent for painting."

Evelyn beamed, her chest swelling with pride. Her gaze suddenly shifted to the maids nearby,

" Bring me the ladder, I will hang this myself," She said with enthusiasm

" Young miss! That's dangerous. No, no I won't allow you to, let me do this instead". The butler cried out but Evelyn didn't seem confused

"Ain't you going to go? I will carry it myself then" And like that, she rushed away with a smile.

"YOUNG MISS!!!" The butler shouted and both he and the maids rushed after her.

Since she couldn't remove the dark painting of his, Then she will at least put some bright paintings to lighten the dark mansion a little

Evelyn had spent the past few days visiting the garden, collecting flowers and placing them carefully in vases around the house. "Until he comes back," she'd said with a soft smile, setting a fresh arrangement into the empty vase.

The butler and the maids watched her now, their young mistress as determined as ever. She climbed a ladder with purpose, stubbornly hanging the painting she had spent days working on.

Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere shifted. A commotion broke out in the distance, and Evelyn noticed the sound of hurried footsteps. The butler and the maid who had been in the room with her paused, glanced outside, and then—without a word—rushed out to join the others.

Evelyn frowned, confusion flickering across her face. She turned back to the painting, determined to finish what she started. 'Whatever is going on, it can wait' she thought. Carefully, she adjusted the canvas, ensuring it hung perfectly straight.

Finally satisfied, she placed her hands on her hips and stood tall on the ladder, admiring her work with a proud smile. The colors were vivid, and the painting seemed to breathe life into the room.

So engrossed was Evelyn in admiring her masterpiece that she failed to notice the soft, deliberate footsteps approaching from behind.

"What is going on here?"

The words cut through the air like a blade—cold, dark, and unmistakably masculine. Evelyn froze at the sound of the voice behind her. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned her head to meet it, her heart dropping as her gaze landed on him.

Carlos Tyler.

Her husband's chilling, unrelenting stare bore into her, dark and intense. Evelyn's breath hitched, a wave of panic rushing over her. In that moment, she forgot where she was—forgot she was still perched precariously on the ladder.

Her hand slipped. Her leg wobbled.

Before she knew it, she was falling backward. The world seemed to slow, and she braced herself for the inevitable crash, for the sharp pain of the hard floor beneath her. Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, waiting…

But nothing came.

Her eyes shot open, her breath catching in her throat. She found herself suspended, held firmly, yet effortlessly. Carlos's face loomed close, his cold gaze locked on her, as impenetrable as ever. He had caught her.

Evelyn gulped, unable to tear her eyes away from him. Her mind spun in disbelief. He saved me? The thought echoed, her confusion deepening. She wished, in that moment, for the earth to swallow her whole.

Why did he save me? she thought desperately

Why?

It was then that Evelyn remembered her state—paint smeared across her face, her hands, even her clothes. She looked an absolute mess. Of all the ways she could have met the mighty Carlos Tyler, she never imagined it would be like this.

Before she could utter a word, he released her from his grip, and she stumbled back quickly, trembling as she lowered her head into a bow. She wanted to at least say welcome, to show some courtesy, but the words lodged in her throat, refusing to come out.

Carlos didn't wait. Without a single glance back, he turned and walked away, his retreating figure cold and distant. Evelyn finally dared to lift her head, her eyes following him as a heavy sigh escaped her lips.

What if I've made a mistake? The thought gnawed at her, sharp and unrelenting. Will I die for this?

Just the idea sent a fresh shiver down her spine, her body tense with dread.