The plan

CHAPTER 123

RYAN

Meeting Evelyn was never part of my plan—not after everything she did to Violet. But desperation had a way of dulling even the sharpest grudges. If I wanted to get Violet out of the city, away from Boston, away from our parent and out of the chaos we’d been drowning in, I needed help. 

And Evelyn, as much as it pained me to admit, had the connections I needed.

At the start of the year, when I was at my lowest—overwhelmed by my family’s expectations and needing space to clear my head—it was Evelyn who had arranged for me to disappear for a while. She had people who could expedite travel arrangements and ensure discretion. I hated that I had to rely on her again, but the clock was ticking, and Violet deserved better than this city

The restaurant Evelyn had picked was upscale but unassuming, the kind of place where people came to blend in, not stand out. She was smart—picking a public setting so I couldn’t lose my temper. Not that I planned to. But Evelyn had a knack for testing the limits of my patience.

She sat across from me, her usual arrogance muted by a tension she tried to hide behind a faint smile. Her fingers toyed with the rim of her glass, the polished façade of control slipping every time her gaze darted to the exit.

“I’m surprised you agreed to this,” she said finally, breaking the heavy silence. Her voice was low, careful, as if one wrong word might detonate the fragile truce between us.

I leaned back, my arms crossed, studying her like a predator would its prey. “You’re the one who insisted on a public place. What, Evelyn? Afraid I’d do something?”

Her smile tightened, her fingers pausing mid-motion. “Can you blame me? After everything that happened with Violet, I thought you’d—” She hesitated, her bravado faltering. “Well, let’s just say, I didn’t want to take any chances.”

My jaw clenched at the mention of Violet. “You didn’t even have the decency to show your face at graduation,” I said, my voice sharp. “What was that? Fear? Guilt? Or just more of your usual cowardice?”

She flinched, a small crack in her polished exterior. “I wasn’t afraid of Violet, if that’s what you’re implying,” she snapped, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “But you? You’ve always had a temper, Ryan. And let’s not pretend you don’t have reasons to hate me.”

She wasn’t wrong. Every fiber of my being wanted to call her out for the pain she’d caused Violet, the games she’d played, the lies she’d spun. But this wasn’t the time. I was here for Violet’s sake, and I couldn’t afford to let my anger derail that.

“Enough,” I said, my tone cutting. “I’m not here to rehash old wounds, Evelyn. I need your help.”

Her brows shot up in mock surprise. “Help? From me? That’s rich.”

I leaned forward, my gaze locked on hers. “You’ve got connections. People who can make things happen without leaving a trail. I need tickets for Violet and me. To Italy. By next week .”

Evelyn blinked, momentarily stunned by the bluntness of my request. She picked up her wine glass, taking a long, deliberate sip as she processed my words.

“Italy,” she said slowly, as if savoring the word. “You’re serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

She set the glass down, her expression shifting to something more calculating. “And why, exactly, should I help you? After the way you’ve treated me, I’m not feeling particularly charitable.”

I slammed my hand on the table, the sound drawing a few startled glances from nearby diners. Evelyn’s eyes widened, and she shrank back slightly, her earlier confidence crumbling.

“Don’t test me, Evelyn,” I warned, my voice a low growl. “You still owe me for getting you out of trouble with Violet. For not exposing you for the liar you are.”

Evelyn’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, the smug expression faltered. “That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. I need your connections. Italy—tickets for two, no questions asked.”

She let out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Italy? Running away with Violet, I assume? How… predictable.”

I didn’t respond, and her smirk grew.

“What’s in it for me?” she asked, tilting her head as if this was some kind of game.

“Closure,” I said simply. “You do this, and I’ll leave you alone. No more confrontations. No more threats. You’ll never hear from me again.”

Evelyn stared at me for a long moment, her red nails tapping against the table. She was weighing her options, testing the limits of my patience.

Finally, she sighed, pulling out her phone. “Fine. I’ll make a call. But if you cross me, Ryan…”

“I won’t,” I interrupted, standing up. “Just get it done.”

As I turned to leave, Evelyn’s voice stopped me.

“Ryan,” she said, her tone softer now, almost hesitant. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

I froze but didn’t turn around. “More than you’ll ever understand.”

Without another word, I pushed open the door of the restaurant, the crisp evening air hitting me as I stepped out into the street. My mind was already in overdrive, each thought spinning faster than the last. There was a plan now. A way to get Violet out of this mess, out of the chaos we’d found ourselves in.

I hadn’t heard from her since yesterday. My mind had been consumed with arranging the elopement, planning how to get her out of Boston, out of everyone’s reach. I’d been too caught up in the urgency of it all, too focused on saving what was left of us. But that wasn’t an excuse.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, a pang of guilt twisting in my gut. She hadn’t replied to my messages either, but that didn’t stop me from dialing her number. I needed to hear her voice, to explain everything.

The phone rang, then went straight to voicemail. I called again. Voicemail again.

Frustration tightened my chest. She was probably pissed. And honestly? I couldn’t blame her. After everything, she had every right to be angry.

I stared at the screen for a moment, then made the decision to text her instead.

“I’m sorry, Mouse. I’ve been so busy. But I’ve got some good news to make it up to you.”

I hit send and waited, my thumb nervously tapping against the screen as the seconds dragged by. Finally, my phone buzzed with her reply.

I opened it, expecting something like “Okay” or “Whatever” in response.

What I read made my stomach lurch.

“Busy hooking up with Evelyn, I guess. Should’ve known better.”

My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I could feel my pulse hammering in my ears as panic began to flood my veins. How the hell did she know? I quickly glanced around, scanning the street for any sign of someone who could’ve been watching. Maybe someone had seen us together. Maybe Evelyn had sent the picture herself.

But no, Evelyn wouldn’t do that. Not now, not after everything. But then who? How?

I hurriedly typed a response, my fingers shaking as I tried to explain.

“Violet, please listen. It wasn’t like that. I swear. I went to meet her because I needed her help—help to get us out of here. I would never do that to you.”

I stared at the screen, waiting for her response. My thoughts a chaotic mess of guilt, frustration, and helplessness. I needed her to understand, to forgive me. But first, I have one last thing to fix.