Chapter 134

Evelyn's POV

The massive doors closed behind me with an ominous thud. Howard Harrington's study seemed to stretch endlessly before me, dominated by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

"Mr. Harrington," I softened my voice to its most dulcet tones, channeling years of charm school training. "Thank you for taking the time to-" My heels caught on the edge of an antique rug, sending me stumbling against a priceless chair. "I'm so sorry!" I gasped, my carefully cultivated poise deserting me.

"Sit down, Evelyn." His voice held all the warmth.

I perched on the edge of another antique chair, hands folded demurely in my lap to hide their trembling. The silence stretched between us.

"The Whitmore family's current... situation." Howard finally spoke, each word precisely chosen. "You must be aware of it."

My heart stuttered. "I... I don't see what that has to do with-"

"The Harrington family," he cut through my protest like a steel blade, "is not within your reach."

The smile I'd been desperately maintaining crumpled. "But Jace and I... we truly love each other..."

"Love?" His laugh held no humor. "Your performance at the Battle of the Needle. Your scene at Le Jardin. The paparazzi incidents at the Charity Gala. All of Manhattan has witnessed your... theatrics."

Each accusation landed like a physical blow. "Those were misunderstandings! I never meant-"

"Jace's attention to you," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "was merely sympathy. Nothing more."

The truth in his words cut deeper than any denial could have. "I'm offering you three choices." Howard's voice was clinically detached. "One: leave Jace voluntarily. Two: accept compensation for a clean break. Three: I speak with your father directly."

My vision blurred with unshed tears. The mighty Whitmore name that I'd wielded like a shield now felt like defenseless.

"I..." My voice cracked. I forced myself to meet his steel-gray eyes. "I want an S-plus grade leading role script."

Howard's slight nod felt like the final nail in my social coffin. "A wise choice. The contract will be delivered to your lawyer tomorrow."

I rose on shaky legs, my dress suddenly feeling like a cheap costume. As I reached the door, his voice stopped me one final time.

"Evelyn? The next time you visit the Harrington estate, it will be as an actress at a social function. Nothing more."

After I left the study, I could still hear his words, each syllable precise and cutting: "The Harrington family has certain... standards, Miss Whitmore."

I quickened my pace, desperate to maintain some semblance of dignity. The palatial corridors of the Harrington mansion, now felt suffocating. Every oil painting, every antique vase seemed to witness my downfall.

When I finally saw Jace standing by his Bentley in the circular driveway, something inside me shattered. The perfectly coordinated facade I'd maintained in Howard's study crumbled completely. "You knew," I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "You knew all along they would never accept me."

Jace's expression remained impassive, his eyes carefully neutral. The same eyes I'd once found so captivating now felt like steel walls. His silence only fueled the fire building in my chest.

"Was this your plan?" My voice rose. "Bring me here to be humiliated? To be told I'm not good enough for the mighty Harrington name?" My hand struck his cheek before I even realized I'd moved. The sharp crack seemed to hang in the air between us.

"Evelyn." His voice was quiet, controlled. Always so controlled. "You're making a scene."

"A scene?" I laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. "If you wanted to end things, you could have just told me directly. But no, you had to orchestrate this whole spectacle, didn't you?"

The security lights cast harsh shadows across his face as he touched his reddening cheek. "My father was actually being kind. He offered-"

"To be friends?" I cut him off, forcing my voice to soften, to steady. Years of social training kicked in automatically. "Of course. The Whitmores and Harringtons have always been... friends."

Something flickered in his eyes - surprise at my sudden composure, perhaps. I dabbed at my tears with precise movements, careful not to smudge my makeup. "You're right. I apologize for my outburst. It was... unbecoming."

The leather seats of his car creaked as we settled in for the drive me home. I stared out the window, watching the exclusive suburbs of Upper East Side drift by. My reflection in the tinted glass showed a perfect mask of serenity, but beneath it, my mind was already spinning with possibilities.

Friendship could be... useful. The game wasn't over - it was merely changing shape. I'd been raised in this gilded cage of power and privilege; I knew exactly how many doors could be opened with the right connections, the right pressure points.

"I hope we can still be friends, Jace," I said softly, my voice hitting that perfect note of vulnerable sincerity. "I'd hate to lose your... friendship."

I allowed myself a small smile. *Time is on my side*.

Just because we're breaking up now doesn't mean it's forever. Agreeing to end things with Jace was purely strategic - a temporary retreat. Getting something out of it was just smart business.

The car pulled up to the Whitmore Manor. Just as I reached for the car door handle, Jace's voice stopped me. "Evelyn, wait." The soft purr of the Bentley's idle engine filled the silence between us.

"About Eleanor..." He hesitated, something rare for him. "I'd appreciate if you could keep what happened today private."

The mention of her name sent an immediate surge of irritation through me. Eleanor Yates. Even thinking about her made my jaw clench. "Of course," I replied, my voice honey-sweet. "We wouldn't want to tarnish the pristine Harrington family image, would we?"

Jace's expression shifted slightly - a minute tightening around his eyes that most people would miss. But I'd spent weeks studying his every micro-expression. "It's not about image, Evelyn. It's about respect."

"Respect?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "Like the respect she showed you today? The way she mocked you in front of me?"

"Eleanor has always been... direct," he said, and something in his tone made my stomach twist. There was an undertone of warmth there, of understanding. Of affection.

The pieces suddenly clicked into place, forming a picture I'd been too blind to see. The way he always defended her. How he'd smile slightly at her sharp comments. The fact that he'd never once criticized her, even when she clearly deserved it.

"You have feelings for her." It wasn't a question.

"No." His response was immediate, but there was something in his eyes - a flicker of something I couldn't quite read.

"Don't lie to me," I pressed, turning to face him fully. The streetlight cast harsh shadows across his face. "I've seen how you look at her, how you always take her side."

"She's family, Evelyn. That's all."

I laughed, the sound sharp in the quiet night air. "Family doesn't mock you like she did today. Family doesn't go out of their way to undermine you at every turn."

"You don't understand-"

"Then explain it to me," I challenged. "Explain why you're so protective of someone who clearly doesn't respect you."

His silence spoke volumes. I watched as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening. "It's complicated," he finally said.

"Is it because of Howard?" I asked, my voice softer now. "Is he the reason you won't admit your feelings for her?"

"There are no feelings to admit." His voice was firm, but I'd learned long ago that firmness often masked uncertainty. "Goodnight, Evelyn."

I stepped out of the car, the cool night air hitting my face. I watched his Bentley disappear down the curved driveway. *It didn't matter. Whether he admitted his feelings for Eleanor or not, I wasn't about to step aside.*