Good At Pretending!

Damien watched the scene in front of him with a tightening jaw. His grandfather, famous as the iron man of the Albrecht family, smiled at Evelyn like she was the only light in the cold, vast mansion. Evelyn knelt gracefully before the old man, checking his pulse as she murmured gently about the tests he needed to take.

He felt like an outsider in his own home.

The warmth between them was something he never got from his grandfather or his mother and it was only because of Evelyn! 

His eyes darkened as Evelyn carefully adjusted the old man's blanket, placing his favorite cushion behind his back, something no one ever remembered to do. She knew all his habits. She remembered everything. And that made Damien's chest burn.

"Excuse me," he muttered, rising abruptly. "I need to take a call."

Neither Evelyn nor the old man stopped him.

He turned and walked out of the room with a cold expression on his face. But Evelyn noticed the storm in his retreating back, not anger this time, but something colder and she knew they were closer to the end. 

The moment the door shut behind him, Grandfather Albrecht sighed, his expression softening as he turned to Evelyn. "I have made so many mistakes with that boy," he said quietly. "I gave him everything but didn't teach him how to hold on to the things that mattered. Maybe that's why he doesn't know how to treat you right."

Evelyn looked up from the small medicine box she was organizing, then gently closed the lid.

"Please don't blame yourself, Grandfather," she said, her voice low but steady. "He's strong because of you. He's just still finding his way."

"You always defend him," the old man muttered, eyes narrowing. "Even when he doesn't deserve it."

Evelyn smiled faintly but didn't respond. Instead, she rose and offered him her arm.

"Let's go to your room," she said gently. "I will check your dosage chart and make sure everything's in order."

The old man grunted in agreement, and she helped him up with surprising strength. As they walked slowly toward his room, Evelyn felt the strange emptiness that always followed after being near Damien.

It was like standing too close to a fire that never burned for her.

She helped the old man onto the bed, fluffed his pillows, and opened the antique cabinet where all his medications were kept. Row by row, she examined the pills and wrote a new chart in neat handwriting.

"Why are you suddenly so worried about my health? My reports were better last time." Evelyn hid the sadness in her eyes. If only she could tell him that soon his health was going to worsen! That he was going to have a heart attack when she would leave. And all she could do was.. Try that it did not happen this time. Since her leaving was set in stone. 

Grandfather Albrecht watched her silently for a while, his stern face softening more with every minute.

"You are wasted as just a wife or a secretary, Evelyn," he said at last.

Evelyn didn't look up. "I know."

She folded the medicine chart, placed it neatly on the nightstand, and then sat on the edge of his bed.

"But sometimes," she added quietly, "being underestimated has its own advantage."

"You should rest until dinner is prepared, grandpa. I will go and bring Damien back." the man sighed, looking worn out. He had tried his best for Damien to see the truth. But everytime he tries to convince Damien, the boy gets only more stubborn and ignores Evelyn. He did not know what to do with Damien anymore! 

She approached the room she and Damien shared, a space that never truly felt like hers.

She paused for a moment outside the door, her hand hovering above the knob. She could hear papers rustling inside, and the low clink of glass. She knew Damien was pouring himself a drink again. She inhaled slowly, composed herself, and pushed open the door.

Damien sat at the table near the window. His sleeves rolled up and the tie loosened. His brows were furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line as he flipped through a thick file. A glass of whiskey sat untouched beside him. 

He looked up when he heard the door open with a cold look in his eyes. For a moment, his gaze lingered on her. She was breathtakingly beautiful with dark brown hair that fell on her shoulders like a waterfall and those deep green eyes that shimmer in the dark. but whatever flicker of emotion passed through him disappeared quickly.

"Come here," he said flatly.

Evelyn didn't move right away. She closed the door behind her but stayed near it, fingers brushing the hem of her dress.

Damien's lips twisted into a sneer. He grabbed a thick folder from the pile beside him and tossed it in her direction.

It hit the ground with a dull thud, papers spilling slightly as it landed near her feet.

"If you're so brilliant," he said coldly, "then finish the Moira proposal draft. Let's see what all your hidden talents are good for."

Evelyn didn't bend down. She didn't even look at the file. She just stared at him, not with anger, or fear, but with a strange kind of stillness that made him uneasy.

Damien scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "What? Too proud now? Or are you only capable of impressing senile old men who've clearly gone soft?"

Her eyes didn't waver. For a second, just a second, Damien faltered. Something in her gaze unnerved him.

"Pick it up," he said, voice lower now. "Or are you just pretending again? Acting like you care about this family when all you want is to look good in front of my grandfather?"

Finally, Evelyn spoke in a calm but mocking voice, 

"If you think that's all I've ever wanted, Damien, then I'm not the only one pretending."