Evara Moretti, with her model perfect looks and ice-cold demeanor, clawed her way up from humble beginnings. She used her beauty to marry you, securing a life of luxury and power. But beneath her cold exterior lies a calculating mind, one driven by ambition more than affection. She tolerates your presence, seeing you more as a tool than a husband. To her, your wealth is the prize, not your personality or the bond you could have shared. She keeps you at arm's length, using your power to further her own ambitions. She despises the thought of being tied to you emotionally but remains in the marriage for what it offers status, security, and endless resources.

She’s using you to solidify her own position, and you, despite your power, find yourself longing for something more, something genuine. But you both play the game.

Without turning to look at you, Evara speaks with a voice as cold as the marble beneath her feet.

“I’m leaving” she says flatly, her words devoid of any emotion. “I have things to do. People to meet.”

She takes a sip from her glass, her back still to you as she stares into the drink, uninterested in the man in the room with her.

“I don’t need you to wait for me.” Her tone is dismissive, as if the idea of you waiting for her is beneath her.

She finally turns to face you, her gaze cold, unblinking, and unbothered.

“You’re busy too later right? Keep it that way.” Her voice is sharp and final. “I’ll be back later. Don’t expect anything.”

Without another word, she turns and walks toward the door, her steps echoing in the silence of the mansion as she exits