Chapter 2: You never gave him a hug
Evelyn's POV
I'm standing in front of the Aphrodite statue when my phone buzzes.
The museum is quiet this morning. Sunlight streams through the skylight, hitting the marble. My iPad is in my hand, cursor blinking on an empty notes page. Twenty minutes of staring at this sculpture, and I can't write a single word.
All I can think about is yesterday. The lawyer's office. My signature on those papers.
The phone buzzes again. I pull it out.
Unknown Number.
I hesitate, then answer.
"Miss Brooks. Oh, forgive me. Mrs. Sterling. Though I suppose that title has an expiration date now."
The voice is elegant, cold. Every syllable precise. I don't need an introduction.
Victoria Sterling. Alexander's mother.
My fingers tighten around the phone.
"Mrs. Sterling. How can I help you?"
I'm trying to sound calm. My heart is already racing.
"I'd like to meet. Today. 2 PM, at the Plaza. We have matters to discuss. Alone."
Not an invitation. A command.
"I'm not sure that's—"
"I insist. Unless you'd prefer I have this conversation with Alexander present? I assure you, that would be far more uncomfortable for everyone."
She knows. About the papers. Of course she knows. The Sterling family lawyers probably reported within the hour.
I bite my lip, nails digging into my palm.
"Fine. 2 PM."
"Wonderful. Do try to dress appropriately, dear."
The line goes dead.
I'm staring at my phone screen, hand shaking, when Sophie appears beside me.
"Ev? You okay? You look awful."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit. You've been staring at that same statue for twenty minutes. What's wrong?"
I take a deep breath.
"Alexander's mother just called. She wants to meet."
"What? That woman has never called you in three years! What does she want?"
"I don't know. But I'm about to find out."
The Plaza's tearoom is all crystal chandeliers and velvet chairs. Waiters glide between tables like ghosts. Every detail screams the same message: you don't belong here.
Victoria Sterling sits by the window. Immaculate suit, pearls at her throat, posture textbook perfect. Silver hair pinned without a strand out of place. When she sees me, her mouth curves into something like a smile. But her eyes are ice.
She looks me over head to toe. I'm wearing a simple sweater and jeans. In her eyes, I probably look like I walked in off the street.
"Sit."
Not "please sit." Just a command.
I sit. Spine straight. Fingertips cold against my knees.
"I'll be direct. Alexander's contract with you expires in six months. I'm here to make sure you honor that agreement."
Straight to the point. No wasted time.
"I always intended to."
"Good."
She takes a sip of tea, sets down the cup. Her eyes sharpen.
"I've done my research, Miss Brooks. Your father, the contractor who went bankrupt eight years ago. Currently drinking himself to death. Your mother left when you were eight. Chose her new husband and son over you. And your stepmother..."
She pauses. Her smile widens.
"Vanessa. A woman who perfected the art of ignoring your existence. Must have been lonely, growing up invisible in your own home."
Every word is a needle under my skin. My nails dig into my palms. Pain keeps me focused.
Don't let her see it matters. Don't let her know every word is tearing open old wounds.
"My background is no secret."
My voice is steadier than I expected.
"No. But it is relevant."
She reaches into her bag, pulls out an envelope. Pushes it across the table.
Cream-colored paper. The Sterling family crest embossed on the front. I don't need to open it to know what's inside.
"Two million dollars. Above your contractual settlement. Consider it a thank you for your discretion these three years."
I stare at the envelope like it might bite me.
"You've played your role adequately. But let's not pretend this was ever real. Alexander married you out of obligation. His grandfather's dying wish. Duty. Not love."
Duty. Not love.
I've always known this. But hearing it from her mouth still feels like a knife in the chest.
"He needs a wife who can help the Sterling legacy. A senator's daughter. A Yale graduate. Someone who knows how to navigate our world."
She pauses.
"Someone like Sylvia Hartwell. They were quite close in law school, you know. Before you appeared."
Something snaps inside me.
All these years of quiet suffering. The stepmother's coldness. The father's neglect. Alexander's distance. It all converges into a single point of rage.
I'm not the girl who could only cry when Grandpa died.
I push the envelope back. Slow. Deliberate.
"Mrs. Sterling."
I look up, meet her eyes directly.
"I can respect many people in this world. But you are not one of them."
Her teacup freezes mid-air.
"Excuse me?"
"You want to talk about poverty? Let's talk about yours. Not financial. Emotional."
I lean forward.
"You and your husband gave Alexander everything money could buy. Andover. Yale. Trust funds. But you know what you never gave him?"
"How dare you—"
"A hug. A single fucking hug."
A few heads turn in the tearoom. I don't care.
"He was ten years old when he won his school debate championship. He called you, so excited, wanting you to come. You know what you said?"
Victoria's face goes pale.
"'It's just a school competition, darling. I'll send Maria.'"
Her color drains completely.
"He told me that story one night when he couldn't sleep. Two years ago, after Grandpa Jack died. He held me while I cried, and then he started talking. About all the times he tried to make you proud. All the times you were too busy with charity galas and board meetings to show up."
I stand.
"You asked if I belong in your world. I don't. And thank God for that. Because your world taught Alexander that love is conditional. That family is transactional. That showing emotion is weakness."
Victoria's voice shakes now.
"You have no idea what it takes to maintain our position, our legacy—"
"Your legacy? Your legacy is a son who doesn't know how to say 'I love you' because he never heard it from you. A son who thinks cooking dinner for his wife is 'inappropriate' because God forbid he shows he cares."
I grab my bag.
"He deserves better than a two million dollar check. He deserves better than duty and obligation. And he sure as hell deserves better than you."
I turn and walk out.
Behind me, Victoria's voice follows. I don't listen.
Outside the Plaza, New York's cold wind hits my face.
My hands are shaking. Everything is shaking.
I walk two blocks before I stop. Lean against a building wall. Legs weak.
What did I just say to Alexander's mother?
God. I'm done for.
My phone buzzes frantically in my bag. I can't look. It's probably Victoria. Or maybe she's already called Alexander.
He's going to hate me. He'll think I insulted his family.
But it was all true. Every single word.
I want to cry. But for some reason, the tears won't come. Just this tightness in my chest. This difficulty breathing.
Alexander is sitting in his hotel room, staring at financial projections but seeing nothing. The board meeting went well. Unanimous vote on the new investment strategy. He should feel satisfied.
Instead, he feels restless.
His phone buzzes. Marcus.
"The meeting just ended. What is it?"
"Sir, your mother called. She met with Mrs. Sterling today. At the Plaza."
Alexander's grip on the phone tightens.
"When?"
"Two hours ago. Mrs. Sterling left upset. She's been at the museum since then."
Cold dread settles in his chest. His mother and Evelyn. Alone. Nothing good could come from that.
"Book me on the next flight back. Now."
