As the couple were still in their little world of ambiguity, the sharp ringing of the phone brought them back to reality. "Mom," Michael answered.
"Michael Thorn! What have you done?" Eleanor's voice blasted from the other end. "How could you let Erica stay in a hotel? I just spoke to her, she's heartbroken! Get her to Pearl Estate immediately!"
"Is that what she told you?" Michael's voice turned cold.
"She didn't have to! If I hadn't called her, I wouldn't have known that 'seductress' of yours, drove her out! And more importantly, Erica is hurt!"
Michael's brow furrowed. "What happened?"
"Her assistant's car was clipped on the way to the hotel. She's injured and alone. You go see her right now! And remember, you're attending the Brits gala with her the day after tomorrow. She cannot be seen limping!"
Michael hung up, his face unreadable. He looked at Evelyn, then turned his face away.
After, coaxing Evelyn to bed smoothly, Michael drove to Erica's hotel. When she opened the door, she looked so pitiful. Her hair was disheveled, her dress torn in several places, and she was limping heavily.
"Michael..." she whispered, her face lighting up with genuine surprise.
"I am taking you to the hospital," he said curtly. He wanted to fulfill his mother's request and get back to Evelyn as fast as possible.
"I'm not going. It's nothing." Erica turned back into the room, her right foot trailing painfully.
"My mother is worried. I'm here so she can rest easy."
Erica's face fell. "If you're only here as a messenger for your mother, then leave! I'll have my assistant take me."
"Erica, don't play games. Let's go." Michael's impatience was a strike to her heart, but as he moved to lift her, just as he had lifted Evelyn earlier, she buried her face in his chest, a secret smirk hidden against his shirt.
At a Private Hospital, a doctor who had been informed before time reviewed the charts. "Just skin abrasions and a minor sprain. She'll be fine with a rest."
After, the little treatment. Eleanor called and demanded to speak with Michael.
"Michael," Eleanor commanded, "Erica needs proper recovery. Take her to Spring Estate. She needs proper care to recover." She hung up before he could even argue.
Michael's face was hard and dark. He decided then and there to send even more "trouble" to his mother's business in Spain to keep her too busy to meddle in his business.
Back at Springfield, Evelyn was tossed in a restless sleep, or so she had pretended, until she heard a noise in the hallway. She threw on her slippers and opened her door.
The light was on in the guest suite diagonally opposite hers. She took two steps forward and froze. Through the open door, she saw a man and a woman. They were close, so close they appeared to be embracing.
The fire that had been simmering in Evelyn's lungs all night finally exploded.
"Michael Thorn!"
Her scream echoed through the silent villa, waking up the staff and the two separated instantly.
Erica, ever the professional, managed to look both embarrassed and fragile within a second. "Evelyn, please don't misunderstand. I tripped because of my foot, and Michael was just helping me."
Evelyn leaned lazily against the doorframe, a cold, mocking smile on her lips. "Miss Jones, your acting truly is Oscar-worthy. If I 'misunderstand,' it's because my husband brought his ex-fiancée into our home at midnight. Should I be happy about that?"
She ignored Erica's stammered excuses and walked straight to Michael.
In a move of pure territorial dominance, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to hers. "Honey," she cooed, her eyes burning with a mix of fury and desire. "It's late. Don't disturb Miss Jones's 'recovery' any longer. We have our own business to attend to."
Michael's hand slid to her waist, his grip firm. He gave Erica a curt nod before leading Evelyn out. The moment the door clicked shut, Erica's "fragile" expression curdled into a mask of pure resentment.
Back in their master suite, the "loving" facade vanished. Evelyn shoved Michael away, her eyes sparkling.
"You can sleep on the balcony with the mosquitoes for all I care!" she snapped, grabbing a pillow and a duvet.
"Wife, calm down," Michael said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register that usually made her knees weak. He trapped her against the bed, his long arms acting as a cage. "How about I wait on you tonight? A bath, a massage... and whatever else it takes for you to forgive me?"
"I don't want your 'service'!" Evelyn struggled, but Michael was a wall of muscles. He silenced her protests with a kiss that was less of an apology and more of a claim. He knew her weakness; he knew that while she could fight his words, she couldn't fight the fire he ignited in her.
By the time the sun rose, the duvet was a tangled mess on the floor, and Evelyn's anger had been thoroughly "extinguished" by Michael's relentless stamina.
When Evelyn finally dragged herself downstairs the next morning, her body aching in ways she didn't want to admit. To her annoyance, Erica was already seated at the dining table, sipping on her as if she owned the estate.
"Miss Jones, good morning," Evelyn said brightly, noting the faint dark circles under the superstar's eyes. Good. My 'husband' kept her awake with the noise from our room.
"You're late, Evelyn. Michael and I were just about to start," Erica said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
Michael descended the stairs, nodding to both women before taking his seat opposite Erica. Evelyn sat beside him, pointedly leaning her head on his shoulder. "Honey, when does Miss Jones go back to Spain? I'm sure she is missing out on work."
Erica didn't miss a beat. "Actually, I've cleared my schedule. I'm staying in Arise City indefinitely to 'recover' and spend quality time with Michael." She shot Michael a lingering, affectionate look.
"Oh? Accompanying my husband?" Evelyn chuckled, popping a ham into her mouth. "That's a bit crowded, don't you think? Unless you're planning to join us in the master suite?"
Erica's face stiffened. Since the masks were off, she dropped the act. "A woman with nothing but a marriage certificate shouldn't be so confident. Do you really think you're a match for me?"
"I don't need to be your match," Evelyn replied, her smile sharpening. "I have the man. You have the memories. There's a big difference."
Michael put down his bowl, his expression unreadable. "It's time to go." He went upstairs to grab his briefcase. "Husband, bring my bag down too!" Evelyn called out sweetly.
As soon as Michael was out of earshot, Erica leaned in, her voice a low hiss. "Enjoy your little victory, Evelyn. You're just a placeholder. I'm the woman he's destined for a lifetime. You'll see my first move soon enough."
As Michael drove Evelyn to the office, the car was silent until Evelyn's phone began screaming with notifications.
"What is it?" Michael asked.
Evelyn opened her Instagram and her heart stopped. The top trending hashtag wasn't about the company's new mask line or Erica's return. It was a leaked photo from the previous night.
It showed a grainy but unmistakable image of a man and a woman in a high-end restaurant. The woman was Erica Jones, looking tearfully at the man. The caption read: "Box office Queen Erica Jones Spotted in Secret Date with Thorn International CEO Michael Thorn! Has the King Reclaimed His Queen?"
But the "spice" didn't stop there. Beneath it was a second, more scandalous photo: Michael carrying a woman (whose face was obscured) into a car outside a villa. The headline: "The CEO's Secret Lover? Or a Double Life?"
Evelyn looked at Michael, her face pale. "Michael. Your ex-fiancée just turned our marriage into a national scandal."