EVELYN'S POV

I woke up to a soft, unfamiliar light filtering through the curtains. My body felt heavy, my head dull and pounding, the bitter aftertaste of alcohol still lingering on my tongue. For a moment, I thought I was in my hotel room. But as I sat up, the sheets felt different, smoother, and the air smelled faintly of cologne—one I had never used.

Panic rushed through me. My eyes darted around the spacious room, my heart racing. This wasn’t my room. The décor was elegant yet minimal, the kind of setting that screamed luxury and power. My breath hitched as reality began to sink in. Where was I? What happened last night?

Before I could piece my scattered memories together, my gaze landed on a figure across the room.

Sean.

He was there, standing with calm composure, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His shirt was gone, and the sight of him shirtless made my stomach twist and my face burn. His physique was undeniable—toned muscles, broad shoulders, and the kind of effortless confidence that only made me more flustered.

“Oh my god…” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My heart nearly stopped as the thought clawed its way into my mind: Did we…? My cheeks burned so hot I thought they might catch fire. Had I made a mistake?

Sean must have noticed the storm of panic on my face. With that cool, collected tone of his, he broke the silence.

“We didn’t do anything last night,” he said simply.

His voice was calm, but it carried weight, and I clung to every word like a lifeline.

I blinked, trying to process it. “We… didn’t?”

He shook his head. “No. But you did vomit all over me. I had no choice but to send my clothes to the dry cleaners.”

Relief flooded through me so quickly that my knees nearly gave out. I hadn’t done something reckless. But embarrassment hit right after, just as strong. I buried my face in my hands, mortified. “I… I vomited on you?” My voice was small, trembling between disbelief and shame.

Sean gave a faint nod, not making a big deal out of it, but the reality only made me want the floor to open and swallow me whole. “I’m so sorry,” I said quickly. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, of course. It’s the least I can do.”

He didn’t reply immediately, just gave a simple nod, his face unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room soon after, echoing in my ears.

I sat there frozen on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding harder with each splash of water I heard. The realization that he was just a few feet away, showering, while I sat here overwhelmed with shame, made my skin burn. I tried to shake the thoughts away, but they kept circling.

Pull yourself together, Evelyn, I scolded myself. I needed to get dressed, leave this room, and pretend none of this had happened.

I stood up, smoothing my hair with trembling hands, when something caught my attention. On the couch, Sean’s phone buzzed. Once. Twice. A third time. The screen lit up, flashing with a new message.

I hesitated. I shouldn’t look. It wasn’t my phone, and I knew better. But the buzzing wouldn’t stop, and worry tugged at me—it could be something urgent, maybe something related to work. Against my better judgment, I stepped closer.

The message glowed on the screen:

“Progress in Cambray’s case.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Cambray.

That was my last name. My heart raced as the word seared into my mind. Progress in my case? What case? My thoughts tangled in confusion. Could it really be connected to me? Or was it just a coincidence? Surely, Cambray couldn’t be such a rare name. But still… the timing, the secrecy—it all gnawed at me.

Before I could linger longer, I heard the sound of the shower stopping. My body jolted into action. I quickly stepped back, pretending to busy myself with my clothes, though my mind was in chaos.

Minutes later, Sean emerged, fully dressed again, his usual composed aura back in place. If he noticed anything unusual about me, he didn’t mention it. We packed up and left for the airport soon after.

The car ride was quiet. Sean sat beside me, laptop open, fingers moving across the keyboard with precise rhythm. His focus was absolute, his brows slightly furrowed, as if the rest of the world ceased to exist.

I tried to distract myself by watching the city blur past the car window, but my mind replayed the morning on loop—the panic of waking in an unfamiliar room, his calm reassurance, the humiliation of vomiting on him, and most of all, the message on his phone. Progress in Cambray’s case. The words echoed in my head with stubborn persistence.

Still, another thought kept tugging at me. The sight of him shirtless, the way my chest tightened at the memory. I shook my head furiously. No, I couldn’t think about that. I had bigger problems to worry about.

Just as I tried to bury myself in thought, my phone rang sharply, startling me. The screen lit up with a name that instantly made my stomach twist: Doctor.

Sean glanced at me briefly, his eyes narrowing in silent question. I forced a polite smile, and he gave a subtle nod, as if to say, Go ahead. Answer it.

I swallowed hard and pressed the answer button. “Hello?”

The doctor’s voice came through the line, calm but urgent. “Miss Cambray, we received your transfer last night. Thank you. We can now proceed with arranging your mother’s surgery immediately. But you’ll need to come to the hospital and sign the necessary documents as soon as possible.”

I froze. My hand tightened around the phone. Last night?

“What… what do you mean, last night?” I asked in a low voice, my throat dry.

“The funds were transferred late last night,” the doctor confirmed. “It cleared this morning. Everything is ready on our end, but please, make time to sign the documents today.”

I could barely breathe. Last night? I was drunk—too drunk to even walk straight, let alone arrange something as important as a transfer. How could that be?

My gaze shifted slowly to Sean, who was still working quietly on his laptop, his expression calm, betraying nothing.

Realization hit me like a storm.

I managed to stammer a response to the doctor, agreeing to visit the hospital soon. When the call ended, I lowered the phone, my hand trembling slightly. My chest was tight, my thoughts tangled.

I remembered Sean’s words that morning, how he told me we didn’t do anything, how he had handled everything when I was helpless. And now… this.

A warmth spread in my chest, but it was mixed with something else—confusion, unease, and a growing suspicion I couldn’t ignore.