Unmasking Eva
Damian and Eva had gone to visit Clara Clarkson at the house.
After the surgery, Clara had stayed back in the hospital for a while to fully recover. Finally, she was discharged. Though she hadn't seen her children in a long while, but she often spoke with them on the phone. She knew Bob was now in Harvard, and that Eva was married to a powerful man, though she didn't know who he was.
On the day of her discharge, Clara was taken completely by surprise, bodyguards suddenly appeared, respectfully helping her into a sleek, luxurious car. She was then driven to a breathtaking neighborhood, every house whispering of wealth and elegance, until they stopped at one particular mansion that looked almost heaven-like.
Inside, the beauty dazzled her, marble floors gleaming like mirrors, chandeliers dripping with light, maids waiting on her every need. She ate like a queen, and it felt as though God Himself had taken pity on her suffering and turned her life around. Clara was still lost in awe when the news reached her ears, her daughter, Ana, and her mysterious husband had come to visit.
Her heart fluttered. She was finally going to meet the man responsible for all this, the perfect son-in-law who had changed their destiny.
The door opened. Eva entered, her hand gently intertwined with Damien's. For a second, Clara froze, blinking as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She narrowed her gaze at Eva, disbelief threatening to overwhelm her. But before she could utter a word, Eva rushed forward.
"Mom!" Eva's voice trembled, soft yet filled with joy. She threw herself into Clara's arms, holding her tightly, as though afraid her mother might vanish again. Tears brimmed in Clara's eyes, and she clutched her daughter with trembling hands.
"My Ana... my baby..." she whispered brokenly, kissing Eva's hair again and again. "You're here, you're truly here..."
Damien stood close, his sharp gaze softening at the sight. Yet as his eyes lingered on Clara's face, something tugged at his memory. That face... it stirred something in him, an echo from the past he couldn't quite grasp. Still, he bent down respectfully, his deep voice warm.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Myles," he said.
Clara quickly brushed her tears, a radiant smile breaking through. "The honor is mine. You... you must be the one my daughter calls her husband." She reached out to take Damien's hand in gratitude. "Thank you, for everything you've done. You've given her a life I only ever dreamed of."
Damien exchanged a glance with Eva, the corner of his lips lifting in a faint smile. For a moment, the room was filled with warmth, love, gratitude, and the kind of peace Clara thought she had lost forever.
Clara was radiant, so strikingly youthful that one could easily mistake her for Eva's elder sister. Damien's eyes lingered a little longer than necessary as admiration welled up in him.
What a cruel irony, he thought, for a woman so young and beautiful to be widowed so early. Life had not been fair to her.
"You are truly beautiful, ma," Damien said softly, the sincerity in his voice impossible to miss. "It's hard to believe you have a daughter as grown as Eva."
Clara gave a small laugh and waved it off with graceful humility.
"Actually half of my life was spent inside hospital walls. I have always been fragile, always being cautioned not to strain myself. My late husband... God bless his soul, he never let me lift a finger. Perhaps that sheltered life slowed down my aging. Or maybe it's just grace I don't deserve," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Damien smiled, touched.
Clara then clapped her hands lightly. "But you must try my cooking! The moment I heard you were coming, I insisted on making something with my own hands. It's been ages since I stepped into the kitchen, but for my son-in-law? It was worth every effort. I just hope you'll like it."
Eva frowned gently. "Mom, you shouldn't have troubled yourself_"
"Let me, Eva," Clara interrupted softly, her tone warm yet firm. "This is the least I can do for the man who brought light back into my daughter's life. Please, let me."
Once they settled, Clara asked Eva to fetch her reading glasses. When Eva left, Clara's gaze lingered on Damien, studying him carefully, her brow faintly furrowing.
"I am certain I've never seen you before," she murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly as if chasing a memory. "And yet, something about you feels so familiar."
Damien's lips curved politely, though his chest tightened with an odd déjà vu.
"I honestly feel the same, ma," he replied gently. "Perhaps it's simply the bond of family now, our souls learning to recognize one another."
Clara chuckled at the thought, though her eyes still lingered on him, curious.
"That must be it," she said, brushing the thought aside.
Conversation shifted, and Damien casually mentioned, "Also, Eva told me she grew up in Chicago, Wicker Park, actually I spent some years in Chicago myself_"
Clara quickly corrected with a spark of enthusiasm. "Ah, no, Lincoln Park!" she said, her smile brightening. "So you also lived in Chicago? My goodness... Perhaps we even crossed paths back then without knowing. Isn't it strange? The world feels vast, but in the end, it fits right in the palm of your hand."
Damien smiled back, though this time a little stiffly, the words echoing in his chest.
Then Clara's expression softened, her voice trembling with emotion as she reached across the space between them.
"My son," she said, her eyes glistening, "I can never thank you enough. You'll never truly understand what my angel has endured. There were nights I doubted we would ever see light again, nights I thought hope was forever gone. But my daughter insists it was you who chased the shadows away. You've given us more than I ever dreamed. For that, thank you. Thank you with all my heart."
Her words wrapped around Damien like a quiet prayer, heavy with gratitude, and Damien only managed a polite smile, but deep inside something stirred.
Then came the welcome dish, and Damien was served like a king.
"Like I said earlier, I cooked this food myself to welcome my precious son-in-law," Clara said with pride, her face glowing with happiness.
Damien tasted it, and a genuine smile spread across his lips.
"Now I know where Eva learned her cooking from. Thank you, Mom. This is amazing," he said warmly.
Clara's cheeks flushed with joy at his words.
After the meal, Damien noticed mother and daughter immersed in a deep conversation. Wanting to give them space, he decided to take a quiet walk around the house. His steps led him to a door he assumed belonged to Mrs. Clara's room. Out of curiosity, he gently pushed it open to peek inside, just to see if the room was comfortable enough for her.
But what he saw rooted him to the spot.
By the bedside, a picture frame stood as though deliberately placed to catch the eye. The moment his gaze fell on it, Damien's breath caught in his throat. His heart thundered. Slowly, almost against his will, he stepped inside.
It was Ana.
Her smile, frozen in time, stared back at him from the frame. His hand trembled as he picked it up. No matter how hard he tried to rationalize, deny, or blur the memory, it was her. Ana. Ana Clarkson.
The woman who vanished.
The woman he could never forget.
The woman he loved, and lost.
A noise suddenly came from the hallway, snapping him out of his daze. Guilt prickled him. What was he doing snooping in someone else's room? He quickly set the frame down and slipped out before anyone could see.
Meanwhile, inside the living room, Clara's expression had hardened as she turned to Eva, her voice rising in disbelief.
"You did what?" she almost screamed.
Eva's eyes widened, and she quickly covered her mother's mouth. "Mom! Please, keep your voice down, you'll get me implicated!"
Clara pulled her hand away, shaking with anger.
"Ana, you married the Lopez's son? The very same man you stole from? Are you out of your mind? Didn't we uproot our lives and change everything just to run from him? Isn't he the reason you had to bury your true face, a-and why I look at my daughter every day and a stranger stares back at me? How could you do something so reckless?"
Her voice broke, trembling now with fear instead of fury. "No wonder I felt he looked familiar. Ana, this is madness. You will get caught. No matter how well you think you're hiding, the truth always surfaces. And what then? What happens when he finds out what you've done? For one fleeting moment, I thought our nightmare was over, that maybe we could laugh again without feeling like its a sin. But now, you've dragged me back into the shadows. Ana, this is very wrong. Totally worng. Oh my days, what do I do? I don't want to lose my daughter. I am no longer sick, I have to do something"
Tears stung Eva's eyes. She grasped her mother's hands. "You're not losing me, Mom. I've got this under control. I'll think of a way to make this right, I promise."
Clara shook her head in despair. "Or maybe, maybe we should just tell him the truth now. I'll help you, I'll beg him, convince him to forgive you. He loves you, Ana. Let him decide."
For a minute Eva thought of giving it a try, but when she remembered the way he had been grumpy and extremely angry the whole day just because he remembered Tyler_ the day they went on a date, fear gripped her heart. She became even more scared especially when she remembers how practically everyone is warning him against her, and how Damien had stubbornly stood by her. She imagined the disappointment on his face and she was not just ready to deal with.
Her heart clenched.
"No, Mom. He'll hate me. I can't bear that. Let me just, hold on to his love a little longer. And when the truth comes, I'll take whatever punishment he gives. Even if it's death."
Clara gasped, horrified. "God forbids it! Don't you dare mention something as serious as death again. If dying was your plan, you shouldn't have saved me, you should have just let me die in peace! Don't ever speak of death again, Ana. Make this right. Love conquers everything, even heartbreak. He will forgive you, believe me."
Eva opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps silenced them both. Damien strode back in, and instantly Clara's warmth was gone. Her welcoming glow, her initial heart warming excitement evaporated into the thin air, instead it was replaced with a nervous, guarded tension.
Damien noticed. He noticed everything.
The ride home was heavy with silence. He sat in the car, thoughts swirling like a storm. Something wasn't right, he could feel it in his bones. First Eva lied about living in Wicker Park, when it was actually Lincoln Park. Then that picture in Clara's room. Then Clara's sudden mood swing, like she'd heard something bad about him, or should he call it guilt.
Pieces of a puzzle clicked inside his mind.
Lincoln Park. Twelve years ago. That was where, Ana lived, and where himself and Seraphina stayed.
He turned his head, studying Eva's face in the dim light. The curve of her smile. The quiet tilt of her head.
Could it be...?
Is it possible Eva knew Ana too? Perhaps they were friends or even family. Because now that he looks at it, Eva does looks like Ana.
The question broke free before he realized he had spoken aloud.
"Eva, do you by chance know anyone called Ana Clarkson from Chicago, Lincoln Park?"
The name fell from Damien's lips so casually, but for Eva, it was like a dagger slicing through her chest. Her entire body went rigid, every hair on her skin standing as though electricity had just surged through her veins. For a fleeting second, she forgot to breathe.
"N-no!" she stammered, her voice cracking under the weight of panic. Her throat felt dry, her heart pounded so violently she thought Damien could hear it.
He studied her carefully, his frown deepening, his sharp eyes narrowing as though he were trying to read the secrets she buried inside. That scrutiny alone made her feel as if she were sitting on needles, each second stabbing her deeper.
Summoning every ounce of courage she had left, Eva forced her trembling lips into a weak smile. "Why, why did you ask?" she whispered, her voice soft but strained, like someone cornered.
"I saw her picture," Damien said slowly, deliberately, his gaze piercing hers. "In your mom's room."
Eva's eyes widened in horror before she quickly darted her gaze away, fighting to regain composure. Thoughts whirled chaotically in her mind. Think. Cover it. Hide it.
"Oh," she blurted out with a nervous laugh, clutching her palms together tightly. "Mom used to be a photographer, you know... She must have snapped her back then. Probably thought to keep it, perhaps because the picture was beautiful."
Damien tilted his head slightly, still watching her, his expression unreadable. His lips curved faintly, but it wasn't a smile, it was distant, thoughtful. "It is beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice lower, heavier, as though haunted by something he couldn't place.
Eva swallowed hard, her stomach twisting. She could feel the weight of his doubt pressing on her chest.
Damien wanted to believe her, wanted to trust every word. But there was a pull in his chest, a nagging ache, telling him she wasn't being honest. That tug grew stronger when he remembered her earlier lie about growing up in wicker Park whereas it was Lincoln park. Why would she lie about that?Was she hiding something? His mind couldn't let it go, and the discomfort settled like a stone in his heart.