Ch. One Mistake 22 One Mistake 22

Evelyn was in the studio, adjusting the waistline on a sample dress, when the doorbell suddenly rang. 

Ryan went to answer it, and his face instantly hardened. 

Standing at the door was Brandon Caldwell–immaculately dressed in a tailored suit, holding an enormous bouquet of white roses. Behind him, a moving truck idled at the curb, several workers unloading large boxes. 

“Is Evelyn here?” His voice was hoarse. 

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Ryan said curtly, standing firmly in the doorway. 

Brandon ignored him and raised his voice. “Evelyn!” 

Evelyn set her needle and thread aside and walked out. When she saw Brandon, her brows immediately knit together. “What is it?” 

Brandon’s eyes lit up the second he saw her. He stepped forward quickly–only to be blocked by Ryan again. 

“I bought everything,” Brandon said, urgency laced in every word. “Imported lace, pure silk satin, hand–embroidered tulle… It’s all in the truck. Whatever you need–it’s yours.” 

Evelyn glanced at the truck without a flicker of emotion. “I don’t need any of it.” 

“There’s more,” Brandon added, pulling a folder from his pocket. “I also bought that premium storefront downtown. It’s yours–you can use it to open your own studio. No strings.” 

Evelyn let out a cold laugh. “You really think this is what I wanted?” 

“No,” Brandon lowered his voice. “I just… I want to fix things. Somehow.” 

“Make it up to me?” she echoed, her laugh sharper now. “With money?” 

Brandon’s breathing became erratic. “I know I messed up, Evelyn. I really do. Whatever you want–anything -just tell me. I’ll give it to you, if it means you’ll forgive me.” 

Evelyn turned to leave, but Brandon rushed forward and grabbed her wrist. 

“Give me another chance,” he begged. “Just one more,” 

Ryan immediately stepped in, shoving him back. “Let her go!” 

Brandon stumbled but instead of retreating, he suddenly reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled 

out a knife. 

Ryan’s eyes widened, stepping protectively in front of Evelyn. 

But Brandon didn’t attack. 

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“King or Clown Move aside! fil show you my crown! 

Instead, he turned the blade on himself, the tip pressing against his own forearm. 

“Evelyn…” His voice broke, thick with tears. “If I bleed, will it make you care again? Just a little?” 

Evelyn’s gaze was ice. “Have you lost your damn mind?” 

His hands were shaking. The knife trembled as it sliced across his skin. Blood welled up instantly, trailing 

down his arm in red beads. 

“I just wanted you to see me,” he choked out. “To see how much I regret everything.” 

Evelyn didn’t flinch. 

“Brandon, you could die right here in front of me,” Evelyn said, voice like ice, “and I still wouldn’t blink.” 

His face went ghostly pale. The knife clattered to the ground. 

“Get out,” she said coldly, turning away. “And take all your circus with you.” 

Brandon stood there, blood dripping onto the pavement, eyes fixed on her like a man lost. 

Ryan slammed the door shut in his face. 

Outside, Brandon slowly crouched down and picked up the knife, his blood smearing across the handle. 

One of the workers approached cautiously. “Mr. Caldwell… the materials…?” 

“Throw it all out,” Brandon rasped. “Every last box.” 

He swayed as he stood, then staggered toward the car, his figure hunched and defeated. 

Back inside, Evelyn continued stitching the dress, her hands steady, the needle threading through fabric 

with practiced precision. 

Ryan set a warm glass of water beside her. 

“Are you okay?” 

She took it and nodded. 

“If he found the studio, it means he’s been snooping around the competition.” 

“Should we relocate?” 

“No need,” Evelyn said with a faint smirk. “Let him spiral. Whatever chaos he creates–it’s not my problem 

anymore.” 

Ryan studied her face for a moment, hesitant. “Do you really not feel… anything?” 

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“King or Clown Move aside! I’ll show you my crown! 

Her hand paused for the briefest second. Then she resumed sewing. 

“Not even a little,” she said softly. 

And meant it.