CHAPTER SIX
EVIE'S POV
Inside, the air was cooler and quieter, as if the corridor itself had swallowed the noise of the gardens. I had barely stepped in when a hand caught my arm. Firm. Unforgiving. My breath hitched.
Miles.
His grip tightened, his face shadowed with a storm I couldn't read. "What the hell was that with Fairfax?" His voice was low, but the steel beneath it made my chest tighten.
I blinked at him, caught between disbelief and something sharper, something raw. "Are you… jealous?"
He leaned closer, eyes flat and cold. "Don't flatter yourself. Very well, Evie, you just handed my mother the perfect reason to dislike you. As if being a commoner paraded into this family wasn't enough, now you've given her gossip that will stain you for weeks."
My heart hammered. "It was just a game."
"No," he cut in, voice rising, "it was a spectacle. And in our world, that's worse. You're here because of a contract, Evie. Nothing more. Don't make the mistake of thinking a borrowed title makes you one of us."
I felt every word like a lash, a reminder of all the ways I didn't belong here. "Stop yelling at me. You needed me, remember? You came to me for this farce, this perfect little cover. So if I'm such a mistake, Miles, maybe you should take a good, hard look at the man who made it."
For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes. Regret, maybe, or guilt. Then it hardened again, and his jaw set like stone. His grip on my arm tightened for the briefest, sharpest moment before he let go.
"You wanted to prove yourself today? All you proved is that you'll never belong here. And the sooner you accept that, the less it will hurt."
He turned and walked away. Each step echoed off the polished corridor, slow at first, then brisk. But as he passed the light streaming from the garden doors, I thought I caught him hesitate. His shoulders slumped just slightly, the set of his jaw softening, eyes flicking back toward me — as if he wished he could take it all back, wished he could have said it differently.
I didn't move. I didn't breathe properly. The silence pressed against me, a mirror of everything left unsaid, of all the judgments and expectations that had been raining down all afternoon.
I don't even know what hurt more — the words or the way he looked at me, like I was a mistake he couldn't wait to erase. Maybe he didn't mean to shout, maybe it was just the pressure, the family, the eyes watching. But it still felt real. It still felt like he meant every single word.
For a moment, I thought we were getting to know each other,that under all his coldness there was something human. But today, he made sure I remembered my place. Just the girl who doesn't belong. The one who was good enough for his plans, but not good enough to stand beside him without shame.
He talked to me like I was nothing. Like all the moments we shared meant nothing. And the worst part? I stood there and let him. Because I still care. Because I still believed he wouldn't be like the rest of them.
But maybe that's my biggest mistake — thinking someone like Miles could ever see someone like me as anything more than useful.
I told myself I wouldn't cry. But there's this heaviness in my chest that won't go away. Like something broke quietly, and he'll never even notice.