Olivia stood in the aftermath, her pulse thrumming so loudly in her ears she could scarcely hear anything else. It didn’t feel real—none of it. Joseph, a man she had known for most of her life, had turned out to be something else entirely. A liar. A traitor. A coward. She had never suspected the darkness behind him, and now she saw him for what he truly was.
Joseph had demanded respect from others. But Evander had never demanded anything from others. Or her. He simply lived with such quiet integrity, such gentle steadiness, that respect—and eventually love—had bloomed of its own accord. He had been her refuge through all of this, patient and constant, even when she had pushed him away. And now, she could no longer pretend.
The truth beat against her ribcage, frantic and desperate for release.
She turned her attention to Lord Warwicke, barely registering the conversation as he crossed the room to take the pistol from Lord Everwyck.
“I understand why you shot Harwood, but that was foolish,” Lord Warwicke said, his voice edged with tension. “You could have missed.”
“I never miss,” Lord Everwyck replied, his tone steely as he handed the pistol over. “I want him to pay for what he did to Bryon.”
Warwicke gave a nod, grave. “He will. I’ll make sure of that.”
Lord Luca cleared his throat, shifting with visible discomfort. “I do believe I will be on my way now.”
Evander turned towards him. “Thank you for what you did.”
“It was nothing,” Lord Luca deflected quickly. “I only hope Harwood gets his comeuppance for what he’s done.”
As the conversation faded, Olivia’s heart pounded harder. Now. She had to speak now, before her courage fled.
Her hand reached out before she could stop herself, gently brushing Evander’s sleeve. “Can I speak to you?”
He turned to face her fully, his gaze softening the moment their eyes met. “Always. Is something troubling you?”
“No…” she whispered, heart in her throat. “I just need to talk to you.”
A slight furrow formed between his brows. “You can speak freely here.”
Not this. This couldn’t be said in front of an audience.
She took a breath, shaky and full of unspoken longing, and whispered, “I love you.”
His brow lifted slightly. “As a friend?”
She shook her head, adamant. “No. I love… love you.”
A pause. A moment of silence that stretched painfully between them. Then Evander turned and addressed the others, his voice calm but commanding. “Gentlemen, may we have a moment?”
The men, to their credit, needed no further prompting. They cleared the room silently, leaving Olivia standing with the man who had always seen her.
He looked back at her. “You were saying?”
“I… uh… love you,” she repeated, aware of how small her voice sounded. “Truly.”
“You said that already,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.
She stared at the front of his coat, the weight of her confession making her throat tighten. “I know my timing is horrid. But after that kiss… everything changed. It made me realize a part of me has always loved you, and I would follow you to the end of the earth.”
He stepped closer and one gentle finger slid beneath her chin, guiding her to look up at him. “Are you quite sure, Livy?”
“I am.”
His gaze searched hers. “What do you expect me to say? That I love you and my heart beats for no one else?”
She swallowed. “You don’t have to say anything?—”
“But that is precisely how I feel,” he said simply.
