The CEO’s Hidden Bride: Leaving After 2555 Days - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The sun was setting over the city skyline as Evelyn Winslow stepped into the upscale lounge. It had been three years since the Computer Science Department’s Class of 2021 last gathered, and the air buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses.
Her gaze immediately landed on Lucas Sinclair.
Even in a room full of people, he stood out effortlessly. The moment their eyes met, he excused himself from the group and made his way toward her, sliding into the seat beside her without a word.
The atmosphere in the private room shifted instantly.
Tension coiled in the air, thick and unspoken.
Evelyn knew why.
To their former classmates, she had married Lucas for his wealth, his name, his influence. None of them had ever believed there was more to it.
She didn’t bother correcting them.
Instead, she kept her expression unreadable, her silence deliberate.
The class representative arrived late, carrying a large cardboard box. Clearing his throat, he announced, "I wanted to get everyone together tonight—partly to catch up, but mostly because it’s finally time to open those letters we wrote to our future selves five years ago. I thought it’d be fun to read them together."
The room erupted in excitement as everyone crowded around.
"Let’s make it interesting," someone suggested. "Everyone picks a random letter and reads it out loud!"
"Perfect! I’ll go first!" One of the most outgoing guys in their class snatched an envelope from the box, grinning as he tore it open.
With a dramatic flourish, he cleared his throat and began reading.
"Evelyn, how are you five years from now? I’m writing this under the golden light of sunset."
The moment the first line was spoken, the room fell silent.
Every head turned toward Evelyn.
Even Lucas, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up sharply.
Evelyn’s stomach dropped.
She knew exactly what was in that letter.
The guy smirked before continuing, "This year, you’re 19, a sophomore, and you’ve fallen for Lucas Sinclair—even though he has no idea. And even if he did, it wouldn’t matter, because he likes someone else."
A hush settled over the room.
"Your feelings were never going to go anywhere. You might wonder why you didn’t just move on if it was hopeless. Well, here’s why."
He paused for effect.
"I love him for the fire in his eyes when he’s focused, for the way he shielded me from a stray basketball without a second thought, and for the quiet politeness in his voice even when he’s turning someone down."
Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her glass.
"I was the one who craned my neck every morning just to catch a glimpse of him. I was the one who heard he got injured playing basketball and, despite the storm, slipped painkillers into his bag. I was the one who filled an entire page of my diary with his name."
A beat of silence.
"He might never remember me for the rest of his life, but that’s okay. A crush is chaos, but only in one person’s heart."
When the reading ended, the silence was deafening.
Lucas froze.
Suddenly, memories of their wedding—the one he had tried so hard to forget—flooded back. He remembered Evelyn standing there, unwavering, facing the judgmental stares as she walked straight to his side without hesitation.
And just like that, everything made sense.
She hadn’t married him for money or status.
She had loved him for years.
His chest tightened. The walls he had built around himself for so long suddenly felt fragile, like they might shatter at any moment. His pulse was unsteady, his thoughts racing.
He wanted to ask her—needed to ask her—everything.
But before he could speak, his phone buzzed.
Isabella Prescott’s name flashed on the screen.
"Lucas, I’m outside the club! Some guys are harassing me—"
He didn’t let her finish.
His expression darkened as he bolted from the room.
The second he spotted the group of leather-clad thugs surrounding Isabella, he saw red.
His fists flew before they even saw him coming.
Fueled by fury, he didn’t hold back. His punches were brutal, precise, leaving them groaning on the pavement within seconds.
A crowd gathered. Someone pulled Isabella away as she sobbed, pointing at one of the tattooed men. "He grabbed my wrist—"
Lucas didn’t hesitate.
He snatched an iron rod from the ground and swung.
A scream of agony pierced the night.
Evelyn, who had followed him downstairs, froze in place.
Her eyes locked onto the man’s hand—bloodied, mangled, barely intact.
Then she looked up at Lucas.
But he was already turning away, his expression softening as he pulled Isabella close, murmuring words of comfort in a voice so tender it made Evelyn’s chest ache.
A voice she had never heard directed at her.
Without a word, she turned and walked away.
Lucas didn’t return until well past midnight.
He found Evelyn sitting silently on the couch, her gaze distant.
"Evelyn," he began, his voice rough. "About tonight—Isabella and I are old friends. I couldn’t just leave her there."
Evelyn didn’t respond.
She simply hummed, grabbed her pajamas, and disappeared into the bathroom.
When she emerged half an hour later, her hair still damp, Lucas was holding her phone.
His brow furrowed.
"Evelyn," he said slowly. "Why did you buy a plane ticket?"