The moment Michael's mother, Eleanor Thorn learned of the secret marriage, she had scrambled to her private jet. She flew straight from Spain to Arise City to demand a confrontation.
When she arrived, Michael hadn't bothered to deny it. "Yes," he told her coldly. "If I didn't want you to know, Grandfather's assistant wouldn't have found a single paper." His implication was clear: he was done hiding Evelyn. This only fueled Eleanor's rage. If her daughter-in-law wasn't the refined Erica Jones, she would never accept it.
In a high-end dressing room across the country, Erica Jones gripped the edge of her vanity. The news that Michael had actually gotten married felt like a physical blow. She had assumed his silence lately was just a phase, and so, she was not really bothered.
"Erica, why aren't you speaking?" Eleanor's voice crackled over the phone. "Get down to Arise City now. I'll help you drive this cheap slut out. You are the only one I recognize as a daughter-in-law!"
Erica's eyes cleared. No wedding? No family blessing? A certificate was just paper. "I'm coming, Auntie," she whispered. She immediately signaled her assistant to cancel all her upcoming filming announcements.
The Thorn Villa
It was past 10:00 PM when the both returned. The living room was dark, and the couple headed straight upstairs.
After a bath, Evelyn felt a strange, quiet spark of happiness seeing her skincare bottles lined up next to Michael's personal kit. She climbed into bed, scrolling through her phone, trying to process the day's hostility. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind.
Michael kissed her earlobe, his breath warm against her skin. Evelyn let out a soft, helpless sound, turning in his arms to respond to him. But just as the atmosphere turned electric and Michael moved to take the next step, a sharp knock echoed through the door.
They both froze. They had forgotten Eleanor was staying down the hall.
Michael sighed, his frustration palpable, and threw on a silk nightgown. Evelyn dove under the quilt, pulling it over her head.
"Michael? Am I disturbing you?" Eleanor stood in the hallway holding a glass of milk.
"Yes, you are. What is it?" Michael blocked the doorway, his face an expressionless mask.
"You've been so busy. Have some milk before bed," Eleanor said smoothly. She didn't look embarrassed at all; in fact, she seemed quite pleased with herself for the interruption.
Michael drained the glass in one go just to get her to leave. "Mom, don't knock after hours. You might see something you'd rather not."
Eleanor's face flushed. "How dare you speak to your mother like that?"
Michael simply closed and locked the door. Outside, Eleanor fumed, her hatred for the "slowly thing" in her son's bed growing by the second. Her anger only worsened when, moments later, muffled sounds from behind the door made her scurry back to her room, her face burning.
The next morning, Eleanor was already at the head of the table. When Michael walked down with a glowing Evelyn behind him, Eleanor's mood soured instantly.
"Good morning, Mom," Evelyn said, trying to be the "tolerant" wife Michael asked for.
"Who is your mother? Don't be so shameless," Eleanor spat, and, Evelyn's temper flared, but she bit her lip and sat as far as possible from Eleanor.
"What are you doing?" Eleanor snapped. "Who gave you the right to sit at this table?"
Evelyn's hand tightened into a fist under the table. She's his mother. She's an elder. Be patient.
"I gave her the right," Michael said, his voice low and cold.
"I've lost my appetite just looking at her!" Eleanor shoved her plate away.
Evelyn stood up abruptly. "I'm sorry, Aunt. I'll leave now." She ran upstairs, grabbed her bag from Michael's room, and headed for the garage. She ignored everyone, hopped on her scooter, and drove toward the office.
Around noon at the Company, Evelyn was buried in paperwork when a colleague shouted, "Evelyn! Dominic is here for you!"
She looked up to see Dominic waving at her from the lab entrance with a tight, nervous smile. Design Department staff began whispering immediately, wondering why the President's right-hand man was looking for a junior assistant.
"Mr Thorn wants to see you in his office," Dominic whispered as they walked toward the elevator. He looked exhausted. "He's been an absolute iceberg all morning. My life is in your hands, Madam."
When they reached the top floor, the secretaries gaped at Evelyn in her standard employee uniform. Dominic opened the double doors and slipped away.
Michael closed his folder as she entered. He walked over to her, his gaze intense. "What do you want to eat for lunch?"
Evelyn blinked. "You called me up here just to ask that?"
"We're having lunch together," he stated, leaving no room for argument.
The office gossip was a low hum in the background, but in Michael's office, the air was still thick with the unresolved tension from the morning.
"I can't have lunch, Michael. I already promised my colleagues in the design Department," Evelyn said. It was a half-truth, but mostly she just didn't want to look at him and see his mother's face reflected in his eyes.
"Don't be angry. Mom will only be here for a few days," Michael said, pulling her onto his lap on the leather sofa.
"I'm not angry. I just really have an appointment."
"Fine. But I'm flying to Italy for a business trip tonight. You're eating with me now." Michael didn't give her a choice. He called Dominic and rattled off a list of high-end dishes to be delivered to the office immediately.
"Michael, you don't really love me," Evelyn said, looking into his deep, inscrutable eyes. "There's no need to ruin your relationship with your mother for a business arrangement. Maybe I should just move out."
"No," Michael rejected her instantly. "Whether I love you or not has nothing to do with her. I'll handle my mother."
"Then, do you? Love me?"
It was the question every woman in her position would ask. Michael didn't answer with words. He leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a lingering, complicated kiss.
"Guess," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. Evelyn had the courage to wonder, but not the courage to say the answer out loud.
The Hotel Suite
That evening, after Michael left for the airport, Evelyn deliberately stayed out late. She hoped Eleanor would be asleep by the time she returned to the villa, but she was wrong. Eleanor was standing right in front of the master suite, her white nightgown making her look younger and more radiant and formidable.
"Who gave you permission to enter my son's room?" Eleanor asked coldly.
Evelyn forced a smile. "Mom, you look wonderful in white. It makes you look years younger. I should buy you a set tomorrow."
Eleanor's eyes flickered with a brief spark of vanity, but she quickly masked it. "Don't try to flatter me. It's useless."
"I'm not flattering you. You are Michael's mother, and I respect you," Evelyn said sincerely.
"I don't need your respect. Get out. You aren't sleeping here tonight." Eleanor pointed toward the stairs. Without Michael there to shield her, Eleanor was determined to push Evelyn out.
"Michael is my husband. This is our room," Evelyn's patience finally snapped. "Why can't I go in?"
Eleanor laughed harshly. "You think you're the mistress of this house? This is our family home. Get out!"
Evelyn didn't argue further. She turned on her heel, grabbed her keys, and left. She hopped on her scooter and rode to an Hotel, where she used the card Michael had given her to check into a luxury suite for two days.
Michael had just stepped off his plane when his phone buzzed with a bank alert: VIP Customer! You spent 10,000 dollars at the Outlets Hotel at 9:46 PM.
He knew immediately she wasn't at home. He dialed her number as she was stepping out of the shower.
"Where are you?"
"A hotel," she said, not bothering to lie.
"Stay there for the two days I'm gone. If you need anything, call Dominic." He sounded relieved that she was safe and away from his mother's sharpened claws.
"Okay."
"Evelyn..." his voice dropped, turning husky and sexy.
"Yeah?"
"I miss you."
Evelyn's heart skipped. A smile tugged at her lips. "Mr. Thorn, you're thousands of miles away and still teasing me? Careful, or I'll make things difficult for you when you get back."
"You aren't here. I'm not interested in anyone else," he said bluntly.
"Fine, I'll be waiting for you." Her voice softened. "Wait for me to come home."
"Wait for me," Michael replied, hanging up with a smirk. He'd only been gone a few hours and she was already getting bold. He'd have to "handle" her properly when he returned.
At 5:00 AM, a woman with disheveled hair and a panicked expression ran through the hallways of the Outlets Hotel. She ducked into a stairwell, her hands shaking as she fumbled through her bag for her phone. The only person she could think to call was Evelyn.
Evelyn was jolted awake by her ringtone. "Jade?" she mumbled, squinting at the time.
"Evelyn..." Jade's voice was a ragged whisper.
"I'm so sleepy... what's wrong?"
"Evelyn, I... something happened. I need to see you. Now."
Evelyn sat bolt upright, instantly sober. She turned off the AC and tossed the covers aside. "What happened? Where are you?"
"I'm in the hotel. I don't know what to do."
"I'm in Room 405. Come up now."
Three minutes later, a frantic knock sounded. When Evelyn opened the door, her heart sank. Jade was a mess, her clothes torn and her hair tangled. But it was the dark, unmistakable bruises on her neck that told the whole story.
"Jade!" Evelyn pulled her into a hug as the girl began to sob.
Between gasps and tears, Jade explained. For the past two years, she had been a part-time English tutor for a sixteen-year-old boy from a wealthy family. Last night, the boy had fought with his parents and run away to this hotel. Jade had come to bring him home, but...