I Rejected Being The Investor's Mistress

Everett initially wanted to explain, but after observing her for a moment, he simply nodded.

"I get it."

A simple response—no probing, no justification, no added complications.

He took a sip of his coffee and, when he set it down, returned to his distant, polite demeanor: "It's getting late. Let me drive you home."

Evelyn reflexively wanted to decline. "No, really, it's fine—I can just call a—"

"Evelyn," Everett interrupted with gentle firmness, "it wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to let a lady find her own way home after running late on my dinner invitation. Please, let me make up for it."

His calm gaze left Evelyn no room to argue.

"...Alright, then. Thank you."

As the car left The Gardens, it was nearing ten o'clock.

Evelyn rented a place on the city outskirts, about seven and a half miles from the school, in a suburban neighborhood. The GPS indicated it would be a forty-minute ride, and while Everett said nothing, he adjusted the temperature for her comfort.

The car was silent, save for the occasional GPS directions. Evelyn leaned back in her seat, watching the city lights fade as tall buildings turned into smaller houses and wide streets narrowed into lanes.

As they turned onto Dexter Avenue, the road became a two-lane street, bustling with food stalls lining the sides, and electric bikes and shared bicycles scattered at the intersections. The Bentley struggled to crawl through the traffic.

Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn looked at Everett.

With one hand on the wheel, his fingers were tapping in time with the rhythm of the traffic. There was no sign of frustration on his face.

"Maybe you should stop here?" She gestured ahead. "I can walk the rest of the way. It's narrow, and if a bike were to scratch the car..."

She left the latter part unspoken, but the implication was clear—she couldn't afford to compensate for damage to such an expensive car.

Everett glanced at her, a subtle smile in his eyes. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

Evelyn was at a loss for words. It wasn't his driving she doubted. But there was no explaining that, so she turned her gaze back out the window.

They navigated through the food street and turned down a couple more alleys before arriving near her apartment.

From a distance, Evelyn immediately noticed the white Maybach, its pristine body gleaming under a streetlamp and drawing frequent glances from passersby.

Leaning against the car was someone smoking. Even from behind, she recognized who it was.

Evelyn's expression instantly turned cold.

What an unwelcome sight.

"Mr. Scott," she took a deep breath, her grip tight on the seatbelt, "this alley makes it hard to turn around. Please drop me here. Thank you for today."

Her words were rushed, as if she was desperate to leave.

Everett remained in place, simply following her gaze.

The person by the Maybach seemed to notice something, stubbing out the cigarette underfoot and striding toward them.

Evelyn's breath caught, and she instinctively reached for the door handle—only to find it locked.

She turned back to meet Everett's steady gaze.

His expression was calm, his voice gentle: "Do you need my help?"

A strange emotion stirred within Evelyn, like someone had given her a supportive nudge, offering her strength.

Yet she still shook her head.

"No, you've done more than enough for me today."

Seeing her determination, Everett didn't push further.

Evelyn opened the door, grabbed her phone from the console, and scrolled through her contacts to make a call.

Outside, Owen Morgan had already arrived.

Seeing Evelyn step out of a luxury car, his gaze turned dark with fury.

"Evelyn, who is he?"

Evelyn tightened her grip on her bag strap, her face a mask of coldness. "It's none of your business, Owen. I've made myself clear—"

Before she could finish, Owen grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the Bentley.

Evelyn was startled. "Owen! What are you doing?"

Owen ignored her, rapping on the driver's window with his elbow.

"Get out," he growled, arrogance in his eyes. "I want to see who dares to mess with what's mine."

Unable to move him, Evelyn's voice rose in panic. "Stop it! Owen!"

Even though the car's tinted windows revealed nothing of its occupant's expression, Evelyn's mind was blank save for one thought—how would Everett see her now?

Would this gentlemanly man view her with the same disdain her colleagues had?

A deep sadness washed over her, more profound than any previous rumors about her.

As Evelyn contemplated what to do about Owen, a sudden ringtone interrupted them—they paused as Owen answered his phone impatiently: "What is it?"

Evelyn could faintly hear phrases like "investor pulled out" and "handle the situation."

"Got it."

Annoyed, Owen kicked the tire and turned back to Evelyn.

Instinctively, she stepped back, but not wanting to seem weak in Everett's presence, she straightened her spine and met Owen's gaze defiantly.

Her look was like a cat with its hackles raised.

Owen's mood soured further at seeing her recoil as if he were something vile.

He reached out, grabbing her chin with force.

"I have business at the company, but I'll be back."

With mock tenderness, he brushed a stray hair from her face, though his words were chilling.

"Evelyn, be smart. I like things to be neat, and I don't want anyone touching what's mine. I've already spread the word—no one messes with me in Manchester, so don't bother trying."

Evelyn pushed him away with all her strength, her eyes reddening, though she stubbornly held back her tears.

From the moment Owen began this harassment, she knew he wasn't genuinely fond of her.

The young heir of the Morgan family, Owen was attractive, with a thriving career and a string of successes in relationships. Yet he had hit a snag with Evelyn, and his pride wouldn't let him admit defeat, driving him to subdue her at all costs.

In his eyes, her appeal lay in her purity—untainted, a blank canvas.

If she were to become tarnished, would he lose interest?

With that thought, Evelyn met Owen's possessive gaze and suddenly smiled.

"Owen, let me be honest. The person who just dropped me off is my fiancé."

Owen's smirk froze.

"My fiancé is easy-going and doesn't want trouble, but if you push me, we'll both regret it."

In the night, Owen's expression was unreadable, but the air around them seemed to still briefly.

A moment later, he scoffed in disdain.

"So you think dodging me was clever? You've just swapped one mistake for another."

He leaned closer, his voice bitter.

"Even if you do have some fiancé, what does that change? I can make him vanish without a trace."

Owen savored her startled expression, glanced at his watch, and finally stepped back.

As he left, he cast a disdainful glance at the Bentley, unmoved throughout the scene, and snorted again.

Unbeknownst to him, Everett remained in the car, observing with a placid gaze, his phone screen still on the call log.

Only after Owen left did Evelyn muster the courage to look back at the vehicle parked by the curb.

The window slowly rolled down, revealing Everett's flawlessly composed profile.

Evelyn bent slightly, feeling embarrassed. "Mr. Scott, I'm really sorry about earlier."

Just thinking of Owen’s erratic behavior gave her a headache.

Everett's voice was calm, unaffected.

"He's no issue for me. But it's late, you should get some rest."

Evelyn silently exhaled in relief, managing a weak smile. "Mr. Scott, you should head home too. Really, thank you for everything today."

Thank you for dinner, for the ride home, for not escalating the situation by stepping out.

"Let's exchange contact information." Everett extended his phone toward her.

"If you ever need assistance, feel free to reach out."

Evelyn hesitated, then instinctively scanned the code to add him.

Once home, her phone lit up.

[Sleep well, goodnight.]

Seeing the message, Evelyn hugged a pillow, burying her face deeply into it.

She needed money—a lot of it.

Her sister's medical expenses were a bottomless pit, and despite years of working tirelessly and saving, it was barely enough to cover the costs.

Additionally, she needed a secure relationship to escape Owen's harassment.

Everett's offer was undeniably tempting.

He promised to resolve all her issues, asking only that she play the role of his nominal wife, dealing with family pressures to marry.

Mutually beneficial, with no debts between them.

In theory, she had everything to gain and nothing to lose.

Yet, for reasons she couldn't articulate, something within her resisted reaching out to him.

Unlike the Morgan family's inherited wealth,

The Scott family in London stood at society's pinnacle.

And Evelyn Howard, with her humble status and ailing sister to support—what right did she have to get involved with someone like Everett Scott, an epitome of grace and privilege?