Save Her Lose Us (Evangeline and Soren) novel Chapter 89

Her hair was styled with meticulous care, accentuating the graceful length of her neck. Every movement she made radiated a quiet nobility, as if she belonged to another world entirely.

But when Giselle finally caught a clear look at the woman's face, a surge of hatred shot through her so intense she nearly ground her teeth to dust.

Evangeline.

Why did it have to be Evangeline?

Giselle seethed, wanting to say something to Winston, but when she glanced over, she realized his gaze was fixed on Evangeline as well, a flicker of complicated emotion passing through his eyes.

And it wasn't just Winston. Every man in the room seemed unable to look away from Evangeline.

Even Mr. Wellington—who only moments ago had been leering at Giselle and pressuring her to drink—now looked utterly bewitched, his eyes glued to Evangeline as if he'd been put under a spell. Distracted, he tilted his glass without noticing, red wine spilling out onto the white tablecloth.

Giselle's anger flared even hotter.

Not only had Evangeline's appearance tonight stolen every bit of her spotlight, but she was standing at Glenn's side, as if she belonged there.

Had she forgotten she was married to Soren?

The thought made Giselle grit her teeth in frustration. She turned to Hazel, her mother, unable to hold back any longer. "Mom, look at her—she's already—"

But before she could finish, Hazel hushed her with a subtle gesture and glided forward, gently righting Mr. Wellington's glass with a warm smile. "Mr. Wellington, that's my eldest daughter, Evangeline. What do you think?"

His quiet confidence eased her nerves, and she managed a small, grateful smile.

No one noticed the man standing on the sweeping staircase at the far end of the hall, dressed in a pristine white tailored suit. He leaned lazily against the banister, the picture of effortless elegance, surveying the party below with a cool detachment.

When his eyes landed on Evangeline, he pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, his handsome features sharpening as he narrowed his eyes in appraisal. "So that's Evangeline?" he murmured.

A young woman in a silk evening gown glided past behind him, following his gaze. She cast Evangeline a disdainful look. "Yes, that's her. No matter how she dresses up, she'll never lose that air of desperation."

Finn Lockridge, standing beside her, was unbothered by the venom in her voice. He was used to it. His sister, Arabella, always prided herself on her transparency—she despised schemers, and everyone in Serenity City knew the story of how Evangeline's mother had manipulated the Fawkes family. The Lockridges and the Fawkeses were longtime rivals, and Arabella didn't hide her disdain for them—or for Evangeline.

Finn shrugged, playing along. He gave a low whistle. "She looks meek enough, but for you to dislike her this much, and for Victor to be so troubled by her—she must have some tricks up her sleeve."