Soren''s palm was burning hot.


    Evangeline''s eyes widened. She could see now that his skin was flushed a deep red, like a cooked lobster, yet his lips were deathly pale. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, and he seemed to be trembling. But before she could process what was happening, she caught the distinct scent of Poppy''s perfume on him. The image of them in her bed shed in her mind, and a wave of revulsion and anger washed over her.


    She kicked him hard in the shin.


    She expected him to dodge, but the blownded squarely. He let out a choked groan, his face going chalk-white with pain. He doubled over, sinking to one knee in front of her.


    Evangeline had never seen him so broken. For a moment, she was too stunned to move, her escape forgotten.


    Soren clutched her arm, his grip surprisingly strong. Sweat dripped from his chin, sttering on the floor.


    "Evangeline," he rasped, his voice raw. "It wasn''t what it looked like. I thought it was you..." He was rambling, his words tumbling out in a panicked, pleading rush.


    A bitterugh escaped Evangeline''s lips. "Soren, we were married for five years, and you can''t even tell who you''re in bed with? Did you think all those other women were me, too?"


    Did he really think she was that interchangeable?


    "No, I didn''t," he gasped, his breathing ragged. "Evangeline, I never cheated on you. Not once. I came here today to find you. I wanted to tell you..."


    "Don''t say another word," Evangeline cut him off, her voice t and cold. "Soren, we are divorced. You are free to be with whomever you want. I don''t care, and you don''t need to exin yourself. But I am asking you to stay out of my life. I have a new life now, a boyfriend. Someone I love."


    Her words were like shards of ice. With every sentence, she felt his grip on her arm tighten. But he was weak with fever, and with a sharp tug, she pulled free. He immediately grabbed her with his other hand.


    He looked up at her, his eyes zed with fever and confusion. He felt like he was looking at a stranger. The woman he knew, the one who had loved him with a desperate, all-consuming passion, was gone. There was no trace of that love left in her eyes, only a cold, hard disgust.


    This couldn''t be happening. It had to be a dream. The real Evangeline would never say such cruel things to him. The real Evangeline would die for him.


    A familiar, suffocating panic wed at his chest. He began to tremble violently, clutching his chest as he retched, though nothing came up.


    Evangeline had never seen him in such a state. She was at a loss, torn between leaving him there and... something else. She hardened her heart, ready to walk away and never look back.


    But then, he suddenly went silent and copsed onto the floor.


    He had passed out.


    Her feet remained rooted to the spot. Footsteps approached from behind. It was Poppy. Her eyes were filled with a venomous hatred.


    "You win," Evangeline said with a contemptuous smirk, jerking her chin toward Soren''s unconscious form. "Take your prize and get out."


    Poppy looked at her, at her calm, almost cheerful demeanor, and felt a strange, unsettling emptiness. She had gotten what she wanted. This was the oue she had orchestrated. So why did she feel like she had lost something important? She had Soren now. What could she have possibly lost?


    Shoving the strange feeling aside, she called out to Evangeline''s retreating back. "You don''t have to y these games with Soren. We''ve already slept together. He only came back to you out of some misced guilt over your five years together. But once I''m pregnant with a Fawkes heir, his family will ept me. It''s only a matter of time before we''re married."


    Evangeline didn''t even break her stride. "Congrattions, then."


    A year ago, those words would have shattered her. Now, she felt nothing but a strange, quiet calm. She remembered the initial thrill of marrying Soren, of being able to be by his side every day. Now, she couldn''t even understand why she had felt that way. Why had she been so happy just to be able to take care of a man?


    She went back to her apartment, but the image of Soren and Poppy in her bed was burned into her mind. Even after she stripped the bed and changed the sheets, the room felt tainted. In the end, she grabbed a pillow and resigned herself to a night on the sofa.


    Later that evening, her phone rang. It was Flora Fawkes.


    "Evangeline, do you have any idea that my brother is sick?" Flora demanded the moment she answered the phone.