The man stood at the bottom of the stairs on the sidewalk, his gaze on Evelyn Howard steady and warm. Evelyn's heart unexpectedly skipped a beat. Lately, she had been so overwhelmed by gossip and work that the thought of a whirlwind marriage didn't seem entirely out of the question.

"Mr. Scott, this is quite sudden..."

Everett Scott raised an eyebrow slightly and stepped forward to shield her from the chilly wind. "A lifelong decision does call for some deliberation. How about I take you out for dinner, Miss Howard?"

"No..." Evelyn started to decline, but her stomach betrayed her with an audible growl. Standing so close, he must have heard it.

She awkwardly rubbed her stomach, trying to brush it off. Everett didn't laugh; he simply turned and opened the car door, leaning against the frame. "Come on, there's a great little place nearby that serves amazing steak."

In the glow of the streetlights, he wore a black shirt, buttoned all the way up, his well-built physique visible—broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, with hints of muscles beneath. Evelyn quickly glanced away.

Alright, she admitted, she was a bit taken by his appearance. Coupled with the good impression he left at their first meeting, the man standing before her exuded the charm of a perfect gentleman. After a day filled with unpleasantness, her appetite had vanished, but now, she was genuinely hungry.

Seeing no good reason to refuse, Evelyn decided not to be overly polite. She stepped off the curb toward the car, intending to open the back door, but Everett had already opened the passenger side. "The backseat's full, sit up front."

Evelyn glanced through the window at the backseat, which was indeed cluttered, so she swallowed her refusal. Everett stepped back to give her room. His gaze inadvertently caught her delicate earlobe. Her golden, thick hair contrasted her fair skin, and the strands that fell across her face added a playful and lively touch.

She sat down and buckled her seatbelt on her own. Only then did Everett calmly shut the door for her. Evelyn assumed Everett was just inviting her for a casual meal and didn't expect him to bring her to The Savory Willow.

As the most exclusive and discreet restaurant in Manchester, The Savory Willow's interior boasted top-of-the-line decor, radiating elegance and luxury, with shimmering lights and wood-paneled floors that seemed too delicate to step on.

As soon as the valet drove off, the restaurant manager at the entrance eagerly approached with a beaming smile. "Mr. Scott, what a pleasure to have you. The private room upstairs is ready."

Everett nodded politely but distantly. "I’m just here for a laid-back meal with a friend, no need to go all out."

At his words, the manager glanced at Evelyn with keen interest. "This is the first time Mr. Scott has brought a lady here."

The manager gestured courteously. "Right this way, please."

Everett turned to her, his voice warm. "It's too late for anything heavy. This place has excellent steak. You should give it a try."

"Alright," Evelyn replied with a reserved nod.

The private room didn't have assigned waitstaff. After they sat across from each other, the server brought over two menus. Evelyn took a deep breath as she opened hers, quickly closing it again in disbelief.

A steak for $998? Outrageous! Evelyn opened the menu again for confirmation. Good news, she wasn't mistaken. Bad news, it was still the cheapest item!

Even if someone else was treating her, the thought of a $998 steak was hard to digest.

"What's wrong? Nothing appealing?" Everett's calm voice held a hint of concern.

Evelyn glanced around to ensure the waiter was out of earshot before leaning closer and pointing at the menu with a perplexed expression. "Mr. Scott, maybe we should try somewhere else?"

She gestured toward the menu. "This place seems more about showing off elegance. It can't compare to the homemade steak from my local restaurant"

Her words stopped just short of calling the restaurant a rip-off for the wealthy. Everett paused, and a subtle amusement crept into his voice. "Well, since we’re here, maybe you can humor this 'wealthy man' with some elegance?”

Evelyn awkwardly scratched her nose. "Ah, right, I forgot you're one of them."

Another day envying the rich, yet a $998 steak was a tough pill to swallow. "And the dessert prices are sky-high! It's daylight robbery!"

Unbeknownst to her, the waitstaff heard her loud and clear and exchanged a knowing glance, sharing in her sentiment. As fellow workers, Miss Howard had voiced their inner thoughts perfectly!

Everett remained silent, watching her animated critique with an appreciative gaze. Over his uneventful thirty years, he'd witnessed plenty of people trying to curry favor. This was the first time someone was so candid and straightforward with him.

As Evelyn continued, she suddenly realized her mistake. She looked up at him, and his attentive gaze made her cover her mouth in delayed realization.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Scott, I didn't mean to spoil the mood, I..."

Everett, unfazed, returned to his menu, his tone unchanged. "No need to apologize. I think you’re right."

He looked at the menu thoughtfully. "The prices are indeed excessive! I'll pass along your feedback to my sister to make some adjustments."

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. "Your sister?"

Everett nodded calmly. "Yes, The Savory Willow is my sister's business."

Evelyn: ???

Her mind went blank, unraveling like a bomb detonating. The Savory Willow was owned by his sister? What had she just said? About putting on airs? About ripping off the wealthy? Was it too late to backtrack on her words?

Evelyn Howard took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, managing a sheepish smile. "Wow, what a coincidence! It's your sister's restaurant... no wonder it's so posh and classy."

Everett Scott merely smiled softly, not saying a word.

Feeling a bit flustered, Evelyn raised her hand to cover her face, mumbling through her fingers, "I'm sorry, Mr. Scott. I didn't mean to knock your sister's restaurant. Just pretend I was babbling. I'm just a simple person, not used to such elegance..."

Her voice was muffled, carrying a touch of self-deprecating humor.

Everett looked at her and unexpectedly reached out to pat her head. "If my sister knew someone genuinely wanted to give her feedback, she’d be thrilled."

Evelyn peered through her fingers, one eye open. "Really? Then can you please not tell her what I just said?"

Everett chuckled softly, "Alright, it’ll be our little secret."

As he spoke, the flickering shadows of his eyelashes appeared under the lights, his sharp features complemented by a tailored black shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing a strong forearm. He looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine, yet his gaze was warm and inviting.

"If we try another place, we might have to wait. How about we eat here? Don’t worry about the cost; I'll make sure we get a nice discount."

Charmed by his offer, Evelyn nodded instinctively. "Oh, okay."

Everett signaled a waiter and ordered a few dishes.

Evelyn listened and suddenly paused. Caesar Salad, scallop seafood soup, ravioli... all her favorites.

She lowered her gaze, her eyelashes fluttering softly. Perhaps these were just popular choices, or maybe Everett liked them too?

The waiter finished taking the order and gave Evelyn a curious glance before leaving. It wasn't rude, just so openly curious that it made Evelyn a bit uncomfortable.

Once the waiter left, whispers broke out from the waiting area.

"My gosh, she's not wearing makeup! Her skin looks even better than that actress I served last time!"

"Well, how else would Mr. Scott bring her here himself? Didn't you hear? She was criticizing the restaurant, and he just smiled at her!"

The voices weren't loud, but they made Evelyn fiddle with her warm earlobe, sneaking a peek at the man across from her.

Everett calmly sipped his coffee, unfazed, as if the conversations had nothing to do with him.

Just as Evelyn was about to say something, the appetizers arrived.

Her stomach growled impatiently, prompting her to take a bit of her salad, her eyes lighting up instantly.

"Delicious!"

Unable to resist, she took a sip of the soup. The creamy base captured the essence of seafood, without a hint of fishiness.

Focused on her meal, Evelyn didn't notice that Everett was constantly adding dishes to her plate.

He used shared utensils to place a piece of ravioli on her plate and refilled her glass with warm water, actions so seamless they seemed second nature.

In the waiting area, two waitresses clasped each other's arms in excitement, practically bouncing with glee.

Completely unaware, Evelyn continued to eat heartily.

When she was finally full, she looked up to meet his amused gaze.

Only then did she notice that he had barely touched his meal.

"Why aren't you eating?" Evelyn asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Watching you eat is satisfying enough."

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat.

His words seemed to imply…

Just as the thought crossed her mind, Everett spoke again.

"Miss Howard," he said, his gaze steady and intense, "how do you feel about me right now? Do you think I'm suitable for marriage?"

Evelyn's breath caught.

He remained seated, neither rushing nor pressuring her, yet she felt inexplicably tense.

"Mr. Scott, marriage is a big deal. Can I ask why you want to marry me?"

Everett folded his hands and replied frankly, "The family elders aren't in the best health, and their insistence on my marriage grows stronger each year. Plus, my niece Clover is very fond of you, so..."

Though Everett didn't finish, Evelyn understood.

She lowered her lashes, hesitating.

She did need a stable marriage to straighten out her current situation.

But…

At the school gates this afternoon, she had overheard some parents talking.

The Scotts of Manchester—a powerful family with unwavering influence. The family leader was a standout among the younger generation, known for sharp business acumen and commanding presence.

Such a man, wanting to marry, could easily have a line of socialites in Manchester to choose from.

Why come all the way to Manchester to find a primary school teacher with no background or connections?

With these thoughts, Evelyn looked up at Everett, her gaze clear. "Mr. Scott, thank you for telling me. But I'm afraid there's no one supporting me. This kind of marriage arrangement—I can’t afford to play around with."

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?