Save Her Lose Us (Evangeline and Soren) novel Chapter 225

Macy wanted to say a few more words, to distance herself and push the blame onto Evangeline.

But Soren cut her off, his voice calm and cold. “She’s not that kind of person.”

Macy blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected Soren to speak up for Evangeline.

But then, it dawned on her why Miss Yates had been in such a foul mood these past couple of days.

Her eyes darted, and she forced a smile. “Well, that’s debatable, Mr. Fawkes. When it comes to money, nobody turns it down.”

“Didn’t she go through your bank statements before? Seems to me she’s always treated the Fawkes family’s money as her own.”

Soren’s mind flickered back to that incident—Evangeline really had angered him then.

It wasn’t about what she found on the statements.

He just hadn’t expected she’d have the nerve to look into his accounts at all.

But aside from that one time, in all their years of marriage, Evangeline had never done anything out of line when it came to money.

Even when she amended the divorce agreement, she’d left with nothing.

His thoughts drifted, and as he caught the disdain flickering across Macy’s face, a strange irritation welled up inside him.

Macy piped up, “Mr. Fawkes, maybe you should just let Miss Yates handle the accounts—”

She didn’t get to finish. Soren’s expression darkened, his voice icy. “Macy, do you remember your place here?”

Macy met his frigid stare and immediately understood. She snapped her mouth shut.

“Evangeline is my wife, and the lady of this house,” Soren said, each word sharp as frost. “It’s perfectly right for her to manage the accounts. If she treats the money as her own, it’s because I allow it. Next time I hear you badmouthing the mistress of this home, you can pack your things and leave.”

Macy bit her tongue. Back when Soren was furious, he hadn’t acted like Evangeline meant anything to him.

But she knew when to keep silent. She’d lived long enough to read the room.

Soren waved his hand. “You can go. Your pay will be transferred later.”

With Soren’s assurance, Macy immediately put the whole incident behind her and beamed. “Of course, Mr. Fawkes. I hope you have a good evening.”

Once Macy had left, Soren remained where he was, unmoving.

He pulled out his phone, hesitated, and stared at Evangeline’s name in his contacts.

His finger hovered over the screen. At the last second, he stopped, his mind shifting. Instead, he called his assistant at the office.

He and Evangeline had argued that morning.

She’d even gotten into another man’s car right in front of him.

At some point, he realized he didn’t know Evangeline as well as he’d thought. And Evangeline, it seemed, had more grievances with him than he’d ever suspected.

He didn’t want another fight about money.

He’d rather clarify things ahead of time before seeing her again.

As he waited for the call to connect, his gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where sunflower seed shells were scattered on the floor. He frowned.

Macy again. She’d started slacking off before even getting her paycheck.

He was particular about cleanliness, and he’d told Macy to make sure every corner was spotless.

She used to be thorough, but lately, she’d grown increasingly careless.

Lost in these thoughts, the call finally connected. A timid female voice came through. “Mr. Fawkes, is there something you need?”

It was the same plant she’d forgotten at the house when she left. When she finally brought it back, it was parched and riddled with pests.

She’d tried everything to nurse it back for a month, but today, the last green leaf had wilted and turned yellow.

After five years of care, the peony had withered in the blink of an eye.

It stung, but what good did it do to feel sorry? All she was left with was a pile of dead leaves and regret.

With a sigh, she picked up the pot along with the trash, preparing to throw it out downstairs.

She’d just reached the stairwell when her phone rang—Soren.

She hesitated, then declined the call.

Earlier, Macy had called, demanding answers about her paycheck.

Evangeline hadn’t received any living expenses from Soren in ages; she had no idea why Macy was coming to her about it.

She guessed Soren’s call was about the same issue.

But they were divorced now. The household staff at the villa weren’t her responsibility anymore, and she had no intention of getting involved.

She slipped her phone back in her bag.

As she stepped outside, a breathless voice called out from behind her.

“Evangeline.”

It was Soren’s unmistakable baritone.

And, strangely, there was a tremor to it.