22. Evangeline

As I stand at the window on the landing above the grand foyer, my gaze fixed on the sprawling estate stretched out before me, the morning sun casts a golden glow over the manicured lawn, bathing everything in a warm, ethereal light.

Despite the idyllic scene outside, a sense of unease gnaws at me from within. The last few weeks had been amazing. Being on better terms with the Everharts has been all I ever wanted.

But beneath the camaraderie, the secrets I've been carrying around weigh heavily on my soul. Every time I look at them, I fear the accusations in their eyes when they find out that I've been keeping the truth about the baby's paternity from them.

On top of that, despite promising Daniel that I would share the files with his friends, I'd been holding onto them in secret for months now.

As I grapple with the emotions swirling inside me, a sudden commotion from the front entrance draws my attention.

Looking down, my eyes widen in surprise as a regal-looking red-headed woman sweeps into the foyer with an air of authority. Her pale, angular face tips upward, spotting me standing near the staircase. Her hair is immaculately curled into beachy waves, lips painted red. Pale skin stands in stark contrast to the vivid green dress she wears, with gold beading around the neck and waistband.

She looks impeccable, like a retired fashion model who now runs the whole industry. I'm so taken aback that I don't even realize at first as she gestures to me, beckoning me down.

"Ma'am," I say, scrambling down the stairs and carefully clutching the railing under my hand. "I apologize. May I help you?"

Her piercing gaze settles over me, taking me in from head to toe. I feel a shiver run down my spine, a sense of foreboding settling over me.

"Fetch Fitz," she orders. "I'll be waiting in the lounge. I'm staying here until I get my place aired out."

Confused, I nod and turn, all but running off to fetch my boss. Fitz follows me, and a smile breaks out on his face as he spots the woman.

"Miss Everhart," he says, giving her a small bow.

"Fitz, good to see you. I hope my nephews aren't responsible for this one," she says, jutting her chin out toward me. I shrink back, cheeks blooming in embarrassment.

"No." Fitz shakes his head. "She came to us this way."

"So you're taking in strays now?" she asks, tossing her hair.

"I'm not a stray," I say, putting my hands on my hips. "I'm employed here."

"Good," she says, smiling. "Fitz, fetch my things from the car. I'm Bridget, the boys" aunt," she says, offering me a hand. When I shake it, she nods again.

"Come," she says. "Show me to my room. And tell me your name, sweet girl."

As I lead her upstairs to one of the guest rooms, she explains that she's been living overseas for the last few years but she's moving back home for good now. She's Marcus's sister, the boys' aunt, and she seems to take up every space she occupies like a whirlwind, ordering people about as if they all personally worked for her.

Even her nephews.

Once they come home, she orders them to greet her, then has them take care of getting her office in the city set up and arrange for her paintings to be delivered from overseas to her new penthouse.

Ryder seems pleased to see her, Oliver seems suspicious, and Theo seems relieved she's back in town.

She stays in the manor for a few weeks, getting herself set up here. She's a constant presence, seeming to lurk around every corner, gathering information through silent observation.

I keep my head down and work, but it's hard to avoid running into her. And lately, every time one of her nephews so much as starts to approach me, she's there.

Every time I turn around, she's there, watching me. I wonder what has her so obsessed, but it becomes apparent soon enough when she catches Oliver sneaking out of my bedroom one morning.

"I knew it!" she declares, stepping forward from the shadows and entering my room. "I suspected it the second I saw you. You're with them, aren't you?"

"It's not like that," I stammer out. "I swear, I'm not trying to seduce them."

"Oh, please," Bridget says, waving a hand. "You're too sweet and innocent to be some seductress. If anything, it's the other way around, isn't it?"

My arms wrap around myself unconsciously, and Bridget smirks, figuring out the truth without my saying a word.

She pulls me out of my room and into the hallway and hollers for her nephews.

They appear quickly. It would be almost comical if it weren't for the fear I have that she's going to expose me. The three of them share identical looks of confusion before Ryder steps forward to ask what she needs.

"This sweet girl has just let me know that my nephews are allowing her to be used like a little plaything," Bridget says. My eyes widen, and before I can correct her, the three of them start protesting, but she cuts them off with a look.

"Don't even deny it. I saw Oliver sneaking out of her room. How long has this been going on?"

No one answers, so she turns on Ryder. "How long?" she repeats.

"A… while," he admits. "It's complicated."

"Is one of you three the father?" she asks.

"No," I protest, maybe too quickly, because she turns on me and narrows her eyes. "I was pregnant before I started working here. I found out after I'd already been here for a few weeks."

"I see," she says, pursing her lips. "And you've been employed as a maid?"

"Yes." I nod. "That's all."

"You cannot tell me that you're letting this girl work for you while you sleep with her," Bridget says, glaring at the boys. "That's literal textbook sexual harassment, you idiots. That settles it. This girl is too smart and too sweet to stay here working for you three. She deserves better than whatever it is that's going on here."

Turning to me, she fixes me with her green eyes. "Starting now, you're no longer a maid here. I'm making you my assistant. If you three want to be with this girl, someone has to level the playing field. No more of this boss-employee shit."

"Where will I…"

"You can still live here," Bridget offers. "I'll stay too. I was planning on moving into a penthouse, but I think it would be better if someone kept an eye on my nephews."

Everything suddenly decided, Bridget immediately whisks me away, taking me into the city to her office to show me what my new duties will entail.

She is going to have me work part-time at the office and part-time at the manor for her, helping her run her textiles empire. Everything happens so quickly that my head is still spinning by the end of the day.

It takes a few days for me to adjust to my new life as Bridget's assistant. It's miles easier than working as a maid, though it's difficult in its own way. Bridget is exacting, demanding perfection, but patient as I learn the ropes.

"That one," she says, pointing to the left swatch of fabric I'm holding as she tries to decide between the two. "What do you think?"

I look down at it, taking in the color and texture. "It's kind of… okay," I say, not sure what she wants to hear.

"You're right," she agrees. "It's hideous. How about this one?" She holds up another swatch, and my eyes light up. It's so pretty, soft blue with a velvet texture. I want to touch it.

"You're right, this is much better," she agrees. I don't know how she's so perceptive, but she knows exactly what people are thinking just by looking at them.

"So, is one of my nephews your baby's father?" she asks, sitting back in her chair.

"No," I start, but she raises an eyebrow.

"Cut the bullshit, Eva. I'm not as dumb as I look."

"It's… complicated," I offer.

"Try again," she says, tilting her head.

"It… happened when we were all out on a night out. This was before I started working there," I tell her slowly. "They don't remember it. I didn't want them to think I was a gold-digger."

"You need to tell them," Bridget says, leveling me with her gaze. "They deserve to know. You deserve child support at the very least."

"I can't," I tell her, panic rising inside me. "If I tell them… it'll ruin everything between us. I'm not ready."

"Eva," Bridget says, pinching the bridge of her nose with one manicured hand. "You foolish girl. You're only hurting yourself by staying silent here."

"I'll… I'll tell them. At some point," I promise.

"You need to tell them, or I will," Bridget says, voice firm. "Tell my nephews the truth, Evangeline."

Someone clears their throat, and we both turn, startled by whoever has just shown up without announcing themselves.

"Evangeline…" Theo says, standing there with wide eyes. "Tell us what?"

I step back, heart in my throat.

"Bridget, what does Eva need to tell us?" he asks again, a frown on his face, arms crossed. I gulp, looking down at my shoes.