Sophia felt a gnawing unease. Julian was hours late. Had something truly gone wrong at his house? Even if there had been a catastrophe, surely they could have sent a messenger?

She stole a glance at Evelyn. The girl sat there, unnervingly still and composed. "I’m going out to check the road," Sophia said, unable to sit still any longer. "Maybe they’re just around the corner."

Evelyn offered a faint, serene nod. Sophia felt a prickle of suspicion—Evelyn’s reaction was almost too calm, as if she had expected this abandonment all along.

Once Sophia stepped out, Evelyn rose and bolted the door. As she turned, her foot brushed against something on the floor. She knelt and picked up a dusty stone ring—a drab, worthless-looking thing that most people wouldn’t spare a second glance.

But Evelyn knew it. In her past life, she had seen this very ring on Seraphina’s finger. She remembered Mrs. Ward mocking Sophia behind her back, laughing at how the woman was so dirt-poor she passed off a pebble as a "family heirloom." Later, when Mrs. Ward bought Seraphina a proper diamond, this stone had vanished.

Evelyn slipped it into her pocket. Sophia’s heirloom? she thought. Whether it was a treasure or trash, it was better in her pocket than ever touching Seraphina’s skin again.

In the main hall, the guests were past the point of polite hunger; they were ravenous. It had been three hours since the feast was supposed to begin. Children were wailing, and the air was thick with grumbling. Had Mr. Ward not been the most successful member of the clan, a riot would have broken out long ago.

Mortified and fuming, Ward finally ordered the feast to begin without the groom.

When the scouts finally returned from Julian’s house, the news was a slap in the face: Julian’s family had no idea where he was. Some were already whispering that he’d gotten cold feet and bolted.

Ward’s face turned a mottled purple. When he saw Evelyn emerging from the room, his rage found its target. Because of this girl, he had become the laughingstock of the county. His daughter had been stood up on her own wedding day.

"Give me the addresses of all his friends!" Ward barked, teeth gritted. "I’ll send men to drag him back!"

"I don't know them," Evelyn said flatly.

Ward’s eyes bulged like a toad's. "What did you say?"

"I said," Evelyn raised an eyebrow, "I. Don’t. Know."

Her defiance was the final straw. To Ward, she was being a petulant brat at the worst possible moment. He swung a heavy hand to strike her.

Evelyn didn't just cower; she braced herself and spat back, "I’m not the one who ran away! If you have the backbone for it, go trash Julian’s house for humiliating your daughter. Or are you too scared?"

Ward’s face went from purple to a violent crimson. Trash Julian’s house? Julian’s father was his superior at the factory. He’d lose his job before the first chair broke.

Infuriated, his palm swung down in a wide arc. Evelyn dodged, her voice ringing out for all the guests to hear:

"Maybe he was struck dead in a ditch! Or maybe he’s run off with a mistress! Is that my fault? What was I supposed to do, leash him to my belt? My only mistake was not having a father powerful enough to actually stand up for me!"

"Shut your mouth!" Ward roared. "You think you deserve a powerful father? Look at yourself—you’re nothing!"

Evelyn dodged another swipe, nodding sarcastically. "You’re right. I clearly don't deserve much of a father at all."

A ripple of snickering broke out among the guests. It took Ward a second to realize she had just called him "nothing."

Mrs. Ward, who had been watching like a hawk, silently stepped behind Evelyn, cutting off her escape route. Seeing the opening, Ward let out a volcanic roar and launched a massive slap.

Evelyn didn't run. She dropped into a low crouch with practiced precision.

CRACK.

The sound echoed through the hall. Mrs. Ward took the full force of the blow. Her head snapped back, her jaw went numb, and a tooth flew through the air like a bloody pearl.

In the stunned silence, Ward panicked. He lunged with a kick, but Evelyn rolled away across the floor—a "lazy donkey roll" that looked ridiculous but worked perfectly.

The younger guests burst into peals of laughter. They had never seen Evelyn this sharp, this bold, or this entertaining.

Mrs. Ward stood swaying, her face swelling into a grotesque purple mask. She clutched her fists, her eyes burning with a murderous hatred. This is all your fault, you little bitch, she thought, blood leaking from the corner of her mouth.

While the Wards were in chaos, Julian was waking up in a quiet hospital room. He stretched, yawning, until he glanced at the window. It was pitch black outside.

His heart plummeted. Today was his wedding day.

"Julian? Where are you going?" Seraphina whispered from the bed, looking fragile enough to shatter.

"It’s my wedding day, Seraphina. I should have been there hours ago."

Seraphina’s eyes filled with trembling tears. "It’s all my fault. If my heart hadn't failed... you wouldn't have missed it..." Her breathing suddenly hitched, turning into shallow gasps. She clutched his hand. "Go... Julian... go explain to Evelyn..."

Julian couldn't leave her like that. He panicked, shouting for nurses and doctors. By the time she was stabilized, he checked his watch: 6:00 PM.

He stayed. He told himself it was too late to go back now anyway. Evelyn was sensible; she would understand. A life was on the line, after all. Surely, she wouldn't be so selfish as to begrudge him for saving a dying woman.

Back at the Ward house, the ultimatum was delivered. Mrs. Ward insisted Evelyn take her bedding and walk to Julian’s house tonight. Whether he had fled or not, she was Julian’s wife now. They weren't keeping her.

Evelyn sat in a chair, a heavy kitchen cleaver resting casually on her lap.

"I’ll say it one last time," Evelyn said, her thumb tracing the edge of the blade. "I’m not going. They treated me like trash today. Why should I crawl to them?"

Mrs. Ward’s hands shook with the urge to strangle her. "You are married! You belong there!"

What happened to Evelyn once she reached that house—the coldness, the rejection—didn't matter to her mother. All that mattered was getting the "disgrace" out of her sight.

"I. Am. Not. Going," Evelyn repeated.

Mrs. Ward reached her breaking point. "If you don't go, don't you dare ever cross this threshold again! You are no daughter of mine, you ungrateful animal!"

Evelyn paused, a cold glint in her eyes. "Fine. I’ll go. But if I’m being kicked out, I want my dowry. Every cent of it."