Chapter 4 The one

Everything that had just transpired in that glittering, rain-slicked penthouse replayed behind Evie’s eyelids like a frantic film reel. She couldn’t believe herself. Had she really done something so entirely outrageous? It felt utterly surreal.

Now that she sat with the quiet aftermath, she couldn’t fathom where she had found the raw audacity to approach him, let alone offer her untouched self to a stranger as terrifyingly mysterious and lethal as he was. Was she truly that desperate?

Evie knew what she had done was pure, unadulterated madness. Yet, deep in her chest—where her heart gave a familiar, ominous little stutter—she didn't regret it. In fact, the brutal, unexpected way Malakor Morningstar had rejected her only sharpened her resolve. She had spent weeks treating her terminal diagnosis like a statistical equation, and Malakor was the exact anomaly she needed. He was precisely the man she had been searching for: a heartless, immovable force who didn't fall for anyone.

He had stated with absolute, terrifying certainty that he didn't do love, and that he never would. Evie believed him. She had looked into those storm-gray eyes and seen nothing but a frozen wasteland. He possessed an icy heart that would never, ever melt.

But is it possible for me to fall in love with a man like that? she wondered, staring out into the dark streets. Would my fragile, failing heart scare away before I can even complete the contract?

She didn't know.

But like Eve in the garden, Evie wanted to taste the forbidden fruit, fully aware that it might bring a devastating kind of ruin. Besides, the world always claimed that love was blind, that it could be built from nothing. If she was going to die in less than a year, she didn't have the luxury of being careful anymore.

There was no time to chicken out.

Her twelve-month clock was ticking down to zero, and if she wanted her final wish to come true, she had to strike a deal with the devil now.

This was her last chance.

When she finally arrived back at the estate, her family was gathered in the living room, bathed in the warm, ambient glow of their favorite TV show. The stark contrast between the lethal penthouse club and the quiet comfort of her home made her throat tighten.

They shared a peaceful, pleasant dinner—another precious memory she carefully cataloged in her mind—before Evie finally retreated to her bedroom.

She took a long, hot shower, trying to wash away the phantom sensation of Malakor’s unnaturally cold presence, but she couldn't stop thinking about him. It wasn't just the sting of the rejection. It was his striking, impossible appearance. He didn't look entirely real. He looked like an ancient, beautifully sculpted deity carved from volcanic glass.

Dressed in her pajamas, Evie lay on her bed and lifted the heavy, textured cardstock note that the pleasant man in the black jacket—Elias—had slipped to her. She stared at the elegant, sweeping ink for a long time before her eyes finally drifted closed.

The next morning, the sun streamed through her windows, bringing her back to her routine. She neatly arranged her bed, helped her grandmother prepare breakfast, and kissed her family goodbye before driving back into the bustling city limits.

Ever since graduating from college, Evie had volunteered at the Oakridge Veterinary Centre. Her family had co-founded the animal sanctuary and clinic, and it was her absolute haven. Her job was straightforward—assisting the veterinarians, tending to the recovering animals, and managing the intake files on weekdays—and she poured what little time she had left into those vulnerable creatures. They were her escape from her own medical realities.

Because it was Monday, the clinic was practically bursting with energy after the weekend. The moment she walked through the back employee entrance, she was greeted by the familiar, comforting sounds of soft whimpers and eager tail wags from the overnight recovery ward.

"Miss Evie! Thank goodness you're here," the clinic's young assistant, Betty, said with a relieved smile, holding a clipboard. "Old golden retriever Barnaby has been waiting for his morning walk, and he refuses to budge for anyone else."

"I missed you too, Barnaby," Evie laughed softly, kneeling down as the older dog nudged her hand with his wet nose. "Now, let’s get you sorted before Dr. Evans catches us slacking."

Evie spent the day assisting Dr. Evans, checking vitals, prepping treatment rooms, and quietly calming down nervous pets with her gentle touch.

When the afternoon shift finally ended, she packed her things, slipped back into her oversized winter coat and fake glasses—hiding her sharp features away from the world—and headed to a cozy coffee shop down the street.

She had texted her best friend, Camili, the previous night.

They needed to talk.

"How are you feeling?" Evie asked a few minutes later, raising an eyebrow at the glamorous girl sitting across from her. "You looked pretty heavily self-medicated last night."

"Do I really look that bad?" Camili huffed, immediately pulling out a compact mirror.

"Yep."

"Don't lie, Evie! I made sure my designer concealer completely obliterated my eye bags!" Camili groaned, making Evie chuckle.

Camili Wilson was insanely rich, fiercely fashionable, and worlds apart from Evie's quiet, calculated existence. During their college years, Camili had been envied by everyone—beautiful, wealthy, and surrounded by superficial suitors. Yet, she had been entirely isolated. The boys only wanted a trophy, and the girls avoided her out of bitter jealousy.

When Evie had casually struck up a conversation with her, a fierce, unbreakable bond had formed.

Back then, the student body had mockingly called Evie "Camili's maid" due to Evie’s insistence on wearing baggy clothes and zero makeup. Camili used to fly into a protective rage over the insults, constantly begging to give Evie a high-fashion makeover.

Evie had always refused with a gentle smile, and eventually, Camili had given up, accepting her friend's stubborn armor.

"So, what's the grand agenda?" Camili asked, leaning over her iced coffee with narrowed, curious eyes. "You calling an emergency meeting like this is practically a historical event."

Evie let out a slow, deep breath, pressing her lips together. She set her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, her hazel eyes turning sharp and dead serious.

"I have found a man," Evie said flatly.

Camili immediately choked on her drink, coughing violently.

"Cough—what?! Y-you? You found a man? You?, Evie Lockridge?"

"Calm down. Keep your voice down, Camili."

"Oh my god, Evie, how am I supposed to be calm right now?!" Camili whispered-yelled, her eyes wide with shock. "My ever-so-logical, innocent Evie actually found a guy she likes?!"

"I didn't say I liked him," Evie corrected clinically, her mind flashing to the freezing touch of the his hands on her chins back there "But he is exactly the man I've been looking for. He's the one I want.”