Unmasking the Heiress by Sisi Yea

Chapter 15

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The bedroom door stood closed before Julia, She knocked tentatively, only to be met with Walter's gruff voice from within.

""Leave me alone."

The rebuff startled Julia, but she did not give up. "Walt, it's me, Julia. Can I come in?"

Her voice was a soft whisper in the tense silence.

Inside, Walter broodingly sat on the couch with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was the picture of brooding, his eyes fixed on the window where he had last seen Evangeline's retreating figure. No answer came.

With a deep breath, Julia smoothed her skirt and pushed the door open.

Chaos greeted her. The bedroom was in disarray, Evangeline's clothes strewn about as if in the wake of a storm. Walter lounged on the couch by the window, his profile a mask of icy detachment.

He was the epitome of allure, his very presence a siren call of raw magnetism that kept others at bay-a trait she found utterly captivating.

However, as she stepped forward, Walter's gaze snapped to her. His voice was a low rumble, quiet yet the frown creasing his forehead was a clear sign of his annoyance. "I won't repeat myself. Leave!" Julia froze.

It made no sense. Walter despised that vixen Evangeline, did he not? Why did her leaving throw him into such a stormy mood, enough to lash out at her?

beside Walter, lay the skirt Evangeline had worn. Draped over the couch, grazing his pants-intimacy she had longed for

fit in, no matter how hard

who crossed his bottom line might never get another

irritate him. Evangeline and Walter were on the brink of divorce,

Evangeline to play the Gordon family's lady for three years? Walter

time would come. She would be the queen of

thoughts swirled in her head, but when she spoke, her tone was soft and slightly aggrieved,

you ever need to talk,

clenched her jaw and walked away, her heart heavy with

was a mask of tension, his whole demeanor screamed 'back off. The pain had ebbed away, leaving only the icy glint in his

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could not believe Evangeline had

the dull

floor.

head, the memory of her stripping down

not even pinpoint where it hurt the

when Caden's call came in. "You sound like you're in a bad mood.

fine, hanging up

drink to drown your sorrows? Let me

""Where at?" "Our spot."

girt