Julian would have intervened under any other circumstances, but a cold curiosity stayed his hand. He needed to know—had his parents truly forced Evelyn into the countryside?

Adrian’s dark, inscrutable eyes settled on Evelyn. She kept her head bowed, shielding her expression from him, but the knuckles of her hands clasped behind her back were white with strain.

"And what if it’s true?" Adrian asked. His tone was as flat and conversational as ever, his face a mask of indifference. He spoke as if he were merely confirming a mundane fact of life.

Seraphina recoiled, her eyes wide with disbelief. "How is that even possible?"

Adrian’s words hit Julian like a physical blow. He found himself unable to look Evelyn in the eye, shamed by the confirmation of his family’s cruelty.

A shadow of a smile flickered across Evelyn’s lips, hidden from view. She had spent hours dissecting the memories of her past life. She knew better than to think two stray buttons would be enough to make a man like Adrian her permanent shield. In her previous life, Seraphina had only ever managed to borrow Adrian’s influence to bully others—it wasn't true power.

To make a patron reliable, Evelyn knew she had to till the soil herself. She needed Adrian to feel the weight of Julian’s presence as a personal failure—a lingering guilt that his relatives were the ones tormenting her in this rural backwater. She needed to tether him through his senses, hence the cooking; and she needed to remain the "perfect" victim—one who never asked for a thing.

So far, Adrian had only tried to compensate her with money. She hadn't even touched the thousand dollars he’d offered. What was a little cash compared to the long-term security she sought? Her confidence that he would protect her sat at a solid sixty percent—the rest relied entirely on Adrian’s simmering disdain for Julian’s side of the family. In her past life, Adrian had never once sat down for a holiday meal with them. He loathed them.

"Come on," Julian muttered, dragging a protesting Seraphina toward her room to retrieve the belongings.

Dominic stood by, flushing with embarrassment. He had honestly believed Evelyn fled to the countryside to escape some petty scandal; he had no idea she’d been exiled. Caleb was equally stunned—Evelyn had never breathed a word of this. He hadn't realized Julian’s parents could be so heartless.

"Why didn't you say anything when you went back?" Caleb grumbled, his voice tinged with a strange sort of resentment.

Evelyn finally looked up, her gaze cool. "And if I had? What then?"

Caleb opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat. He took a sharp breath and swallowed his pride. What then? Indeed. Julian’s father was the director of the meat processing plant. His own father was merely a workshop supervisor.

Evelyn’s bitter logic from earlier rang in his ears: Why couldn't his father be the director? If he held that kind of power, maybe his children wouldn't have to live in the shadows of others.

"I’ll go check on them," Dominic mumbled, unable to bear Adrian’s heavy presence any longer. He hurried after Seraphina; the stolen goods had to be returned, no matter what. Caleb scrambled to follow, leaving Evelyn and Adrian alone in the sudden quiet of the room.

Adrian lacked the raw clumsiness of youth. He possessed an aura of authority that made one forget his age entirely. "You seemed plenty talkative a moment ago," he remarked dryly. "Why the sudden shyness? Can't even look at me now?"

Evelyn kept her chin tucked, the picture of a repentant child. "I’ll make you a double portion of braised pork later to make up for it."

Adrian let out a short, startled laugh, half-annoyed by her transparent attempt to appease him.

Evelyn’s lips curved into a genuine smile, her eyes sparkling like stars. "And I’ll add a 'Frog’s Leap.' It’s a local dish I’ve been learning. I hear it’s even better than the pork."

A faint crease of amusement appeared at the corner of Adrian’s eye, though he quickly masked it with a look of mock disapproval. Did she really think he was a man whose dignity could be bought with a few home-cooked meals?

"What on earth is a 'Frog’s Leap'?"

Evelyn suppressed a giggle and began to explain the intricacies of the dish. It was no simple feat to prepare, she assured him.

While they spoke, Julian had reached Seraphina’s room. Several other women were huddled inside, their gossip cutting off abruptly the moment Seraphina stormed in. With Julian looming in the doorway, Seraphina knew she couldn't make a scene without losing face. Sullenly, she surrendered the stolen quilts and cotton-padded coats.

Julian exhaled in relief. At least she wasn't being completely unreasonable. As he hauled the bundle out, Seraphina’s pretty features contorted into a mask of cold, silent fury.

"Evelyn! Let me carry these back for you," Julian called out, desperate for a private moment to talk.

Hearing the commotion, Evelyn stepped outside. "I can manage myself. I don't need your help."

"Just let me help," Julian insisted. "I have things to say to you."

Evelyn frowned. "I have nothing to say to you."

"About Seraphina... it's not what you think. We aren't—"

Evelyn ignored him, turning instead to Adrian and pointing at the pile of bedding. "Brother Adrian, could you give me a hand?"

Adrian paused, the thought of the braised pork and that mysterious 'Frog’s Leap' tilting the scales. "I brought my bicycle. It’s outside. We can strap them to the rack and I’ll wheel them back for you."

Seeing Evelyn use his own cousin as a shield, Julian jumped in. "Cousin, I’ll do it! I’ll push it for her!"

Evelyn shot a pointed glance at his lower half. "Doesn't it still hurt?"

Julian’s face went white, then a furious, embarrassed red. Of course it still hurt. It throbbed with every step. But his desperation to explain himself outweighed the physical agony.

Adrian’s expression remained unreadable as he lashed the quilts to the back of the bike with twine. Dominic and his brother watched from the sidelines, paralyzed by hesitation. They wanted to help, but the fear of being publicly snubbed by Evelyn kept them silent.

"Brother Adrian, you take the bike. I'll carry the coat myself," Evelyn directed.

Adrian gave Julian a long, warning look—a silent command to stay away—before pushing the bicycle toward the gate.

Evelyn set her coat down and walked over to Caleb. He straightened up, assuming she was about to lecture him again about his infatuation with Seraphina. He already had his defense ready: as long as Seraphina was single, he would pursue her. She would love him eventually.

Evelyn’s lips curled into a sweet, deceptive smile. "Caleb, do you remember what you owe me?"

Caleb blinked, confused. "What I owe..."

Before he could finish, Evelyn’s foot lashed out. Same spot. Same force. Same agonizing result.

Caleb’s face turned a violent shade of purple. "Evelyn... have you no shame!" he wheezed, the veins in his neck bulging as he struggled to draw breath.

"During the wheat harvest," Evelyn said tonelessly, "you shoved me. I fell and tore my palms open. There was quite a lot of blood."

The palms were a difficult place to heal, especially during the harvest when there was no time for rest. She had let it slide then for the sake of the collective work, but a debt was a debt. Without another word, she turned and walked away.

Caleb, doubled over in pain, grabbed Dominic’s arm, gesturing wildly for him to catch her—to hit her back.

Dominic looked up at the darkening sky. "The cabbage and radishes aren't going to wash themselves," he muttered, turning away.

Caleb turned his pleading, watery eyes toward Julian.

"Julian... you have to... teach her... a lesson!"

How could she keep kicking a man there? It was barbaric. It was too much.