Chapter 1
Evelyn Prescott lay on the hospital bed in the campus clinic, his almond-shaped eyes dull and lifeless as he stared out at the vibrant osmanthus trees beyond the window. The blossoms had yet to bloom in this season, yet he could still remember how intoxicating their scent would be once they did. He had always preferred the golden osmanthus, with its richer fragrance compared to the silver variety. There was something about things that are intense and bold that attracted him; he felt a deep affinity for all that was rich and vibrant. A fleeting smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. An IV drip punctured his right hand, the sharp needle biting into his sensitive skin with a sting that felt like a knife slicing through him. Evelyn had always been fragile, not just physically but emotionally. Even a minor scrape that most people would easily tolerate felt monumental to him. The pain terrified him, a constant reminder of how vulnerable he truly was. Each injection at the clinic felt like a cutting blade against his flesh, a swift, cruel reminder of his chronic condition, and he could swallow down the fear no longer. On the day of his engagement, a day that should have been filled with joy, everything crumbled. Evelyn had stumbled upon his fiancé, Alistair Blackwood, locked in a passionate embrace with a substitute, a doppelgänger of himself. In that painful moment, he felt as if his heart had shattered, the sheer betrayal weighing down on him like a leaden cloak. To make matters worse, his own parents, Lord Harold and Lady Isabella Prescott, showed little love for him. They were eager to send him away, their impatience evident as they opted for a “treatment” they deemed necessary. It was clear they didn't want to see him suffer, but abandoning him, especially on this day, felt like a betrayal of its own. The world around him faltered further. When he streamed a live art session, a disillusioned fan accused him of plagiary, igniting a frenzy that spread like wildfire across social media. What was once a safe haven for his creativity became a minefield of toxicity and lies. On the brink of despair, Evelyn stepped away from it all, choosing to leave town. In a tragic twist of fate, an accident took his life that very day. Awakening to a different reality, he found himself surrounded by tearful expressions of joy from his parents. Yet, this time, Evelyn Prescott felt a shocking clarity. He no longer craved affection or healing. He was resolved to let go of everything—his desires, his pain, and his illness. But salvation would not come so easily. Days passed, and his family began to change as if by some magic spell. When his throat tightened with discomfort and coughs wracked his body, his parents rushed to him, all anxiety and worry, offering water and suggestions of hospital visits. Evelyn felt a wave of dizziness wash over him during a birthday celebration for Victor Blackwood. As he stepped outside for fresh air, Victor abandoned his guests, anxiously trailing behind him to apologize, insisting that he shouldn’t have invited so many people, inadvertently crowding the air around them with germs. During another live art session, though he struggled to maintain strength in his hands and paint efficiently, donations streamed in from fans who continued to shower him with support. Even the renowned painter, Lord Gallant, praised his work. Then there was Tobias, the younger brother of the supposed substitute, suddenly confessing his longing for Evelyn, declaring he would abandon his family just to be with him—offering to take care of him whenever he needed. All this unexpected kindness overwhelmed Evelyn, and he panicked, fleeing at the sight of concerned faces. News of him being missing spread, with search parties forming, and a hefty reward announced for his return. In a shocking twist, one evening at the top-tier Prescott estate, Lucas Brightwood, a wealthier heir, announced a spontaneous wedding, sending shockwaves through social media. Headlines blared: # Wealthy Prescott Heir's Same-Sex Marriage! # Why Did the Billionaire Marry So Quickly? # The Abandoned Heir is the Bride! # The Bride is a Stunning, Ill Beauty! As chaos unfolded around him, Evelyn could only watch in silent disbelief, knowing the tangled webs of relationships had only just begun. The world might be in turmoil, but within the eye of the storm, he had found a strange sense of liberation.
Chapter 2
Evelyn Prescott had always been unusually sensitive to pain, but in the final moments of his life, he encountered a tragedy far beyond what he could bear—a devastating car accident. Two vehicles collided; it was essentially a rear-end crash, something that, by most standards, shouldn't be too severe. Yet, in this case, Evelyn was the only casualty, losing his life in an instant while others walked away unscathed. His head had struck hard against metal, blood flowing freely as agony pierced through him. Even now, after what felt like a rebirth, the memory of that intense suffering lingered painfully in his body. The sensation was clear and vivid; he could almost feel the sharpness of a needle, its point threatening to puncture his skin. Evelyn leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, only to open them slowly moments later. What was this experience? Despite facing death, there hadn't been much resentment; he was all too accustomed to health issues—doctor visits were routine, medications sometimes exceeded meals in frequency. To have lived to twenty was a surprise in itself. In the interim, much had transpired. Once an ordinary guy, Evelyn found himself swept into an entirely different life when he was approached by the Prescott family during his junior year of college. Overnight, he transformed from a regular citizen to a member of the Prescott nobility. At first, Evelyn was brimming with hope, but like a house of cards, that hope collapsed around him before long. What could change now that he had come back? Nothing. A faint smile crossed his lips, cool and distant, as his heart twisted with pain. The burdens he had borne, the sorrows and betrayals, wouldn’t just disappear now that he had been given a second chance. The family he thought loved him, the friends he believed cared, were all just facades. In the beginning, they wore masks of concern, but eventually, the truth ripped through those disguises, revealing their true indifference. If that was the case, they should have never pretended to care in the first place. Evelyn let out a choked laugh, tears glistening in his reddened eyes, a stark contrast against the pain clouding his thoughts. His head still swam with dizziness. He vaguely recalled that it had been an extremely hot day and he had fainted from heat exhaustion, sent to the campus health center by his classmates before they headed to their next lecture. The staff at the clinic recognized him well by now; his frequent visits had become nothing new. Evelyn glanced at the IV drip, realizing he still had more than half an hour to go. After the treatment, he could finally leave this place. He closed his eyes, fatigue washing over him. His heart felt heavy, tired in a way that seemed to reach his very soul, and soon he drifted into a deep sleep. Not long after, he heard someone calling his name. Slowly opening his eyes, he was surprised to see his parents, Lord Harold and Lady Isabella Prescott, standing in the hospital room, concern etched across their faces.
Chapter 3
Evelyn Prescott blinked in surprise, recalling that these two individuals were indeed in the room. If he had remembered sooner, he wouldn't have started the IV treatment and would have left the hospital earlier. He didn't want to see them—his two relatives, bound by blood. Once, Evelyn had hoped to find some semblance of family love in their presence. He had tried his best to be compliant, never voicing a differing opinion. Whatever they wanted him to do, he dutifully did. Even though he despised taking medication, he obeyed their insistence that it was the only way he could get better. They frequently brought him to the hospital for check-ups, and he complied with every request. He believed, naively, that they truly cared for him and wanted to build the familial bond he had missed out on. Yet, those warm moments did not last long. Within six months, Evelyn began to notice a shift in the way his parents looked at him. At first, he thought it was just stress from their jobs, and he endeavored to be even more agreeable, aiming not to add to their burdens. But soon, it became painfully clear: his biological parents didn't have much love for him, their real son. They were disappointed by his frail condition and his morose demeanor, which they felt brought bad luck into their home. After all, they had missed nearly twenty years of his life, while their “adopted” son seemed to have formed a stronger bond with them. With the return of their true heir, the false heir's presence became awkward, leading him to voluntarily move out. Ironically, this only seemed to endear the false heir to their hearts. After all, the mix-up with the adoption wasn't anyone's fault. The more they cared for the false heir, the more Evelyn felt the sting of jealousy, despite doing nothing about it. But jealousy aside, he found a sense of fulfillment just having real family around. He resisted the temptation to ask for more. He quietly accepted everything, finding comfort in his kind, handsome boyfriend, Lucas Brightwood, who had even proposed to him. Motivated by love, Evelyn began engaging with his treatments, and his health showed slight improvement. However, on the day of their engagement, something unexpected happened. He caught sight of his false brother, Tobias Prescott, locked in a passionate embrace with his fiancé, Lucas, oblivious to the world around them. All Evelyn could do was laugh at the surreal scene before him. In that moment, he understood: the distinction between “real heir” and “false heir” didn’t matter at all. He was merely a loner, a frail figure whom no one would genuinely care for. After resigning himself to this bitter truth, he left the engagement party, turned off his phone, and ignored all calls. Leaving in such haste, he took no belongings with him, just jumping into a taxi and departing. It wasn't long after that when he found himself in a car accident. Tragically, he died that day, finding himself reborn two months later. “...Evelyn?” “Evelyn, are you feeling any better?” His mother's worried voice broke through the haze. As he slowly raised his head, he noticed the concern etched into her features. Her grip on his hand was firm, filled with genuine care. In the past, this would have touched him deeply; he would have eagerly shook his head, insisting he was fine, that he was getting better. But now, Evelyn found himself speechless, wanting no part in the pretense. He tightened his lips, gently withdrawing his hand from her grasp. The woman shared a surprised look with his father. “Evelyn, you’re still feeling unwell, aren’t you?”
Chapter 4
“Do you want something to eat? Harold Prescott will go get it for you.” Evelyn's father seemed unusually concerned, his tension evident. He could usually gaze tenderly at his children, but today was different—he barely met their eyes. He turned to look out the window. “Little Evelyn, is there anything else bothering you? You can tell Mom.” “Old Sir Edwin, please call the doctor.” The woman immediately urged Old Sir Edwin to step outside. As the Man-at-Arms turned to leave, Evelyn Prescott finally spoke up. “I’m okay, just a little dizzy.” Hearing her son’s voice brought tears to her eyes, as she looked at him, on the verge of sobbing. Evelyn Prescott gazed at the woman who was his biological mother. Mother? The gentle, caring face in front of him seemed worlds apart from the woman whose disdain he remembered from his past life. But was it really so? Evelyn Prescott had grown wise to the complexities of relationships. “Mom will call your teacher to excuse you for a couple of days. You need to rest at home,” she said. The woman reached for Evelyn Prescott's hand, but he quickly withdrew it under the blanket. Her expression turned to one of shock, leaving her momentarily puzzled. But when she saw Evelyn Prescott's pale, sickly face, her concern overrode her confusion. Their focus should have been on him. They had brought him back, yet they were always too busy with other matters, neglecting his well-being. “Little Evelyn, I won’t bother you anymore. Just lie down and rest. I’ll be right here with you,” she said softly. The woman moved closer to him, and Evelyn Prescott anticipated her intention. Before she could take action, he lay back down of his own accord. Pulling the covers up to his chin, he shut his eyes, dismissing the presence of the two people by his bedside. The married couple exchanged glances in silence for a moment, then stepped outside the room, seemingly discussing something that Evelyn Prescott couldn’t hear over the sound of his own thoughts. A few minutes later, the woman returned, her high heels quiet on the floor, as if she were treading lightly on purpose. Under the blanket, Evelyn Prescott’s fingers curled involuntarily, his nails digging painfully into his palm, and he quickly released his grip. A silent laugh echoed inside him. The woman stayed by his side as he received an IV infusion, and once it was done, she took some medicine and stepped out of the campus clinic. Outside, Hector the Driver came over to open the car door. Evelyn Prescott glanced at the rear passenger seat but then turned away, walking off. His mother’s expression shifted instantly; she worried that Evelyn Prescott was refusing to go back with her.
Chapter 5
Evelyn Prescott turned away from the car’s rear and opened the door to slide into the left back seat. She didn’t want to sit in the right after just having been in a car accident there; the psychological shadow of that moment loomed over her. The truth was, she didn’t want to ride in a car at all, but the last thing Evelyn needed was to engage with anyone, especially the woman who would only bombard her with questions about why she was feeling this way. So, for now, she decided to just go along with it. As the car sped through the streets, Evelyn stared idly out the window, blankly watching the world go by without exchanging a word with her female companion. The rush of wind turned into a dull throb in her head. Her brow furrowed tightly, but she remained silent. She didn’t need anyone's concern, least of all from her. When the car rolled up to her house and she stepped inside, Evelyn was immediately struck by the sight of a figure sitting in the living room. The moment she laid eyes on him, a tight knot formed in her throat. The young man stood up, his face lit with a heartfelt smile as he reached out to welcome her. But Evelyn wasn’t having any of it; she bolted past him towards the bathroom, hands clenched tightly around the sink as she fought back the bile rising in her throat. Her mother and boyfriend rushed in, worry etched on their faces. They hurried to her side as she struggled, both of them tense with concern. After what felt like an eternity of heaving, Evelyn finally rinsed her mouth and splashed cold water across her face. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she noted the bruising on her wrist, remnants of an IV line. The sight reminded her of just how pale and unwell she looked—almost ghostlike. It was no wonder her parents viewed her as if she were cursed, and in the eyes of Silas Rivers—her boyfriend—she was nothing but a pretty trophy that lacked substance. Silas had long since cozied up to her brother, Toby, whom he treated as a stand-in for their relationship. He had sought someone to fill the void because of her frail health, unable to engage in the intimacy he desired. Ironically, Victor Blackwood, the one he'd turned to, seemed to have found genuine love, while Evelyn was left feeling disgusted by it all. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, "What a mess." She grabbed a tissue, wiped her hands dry, and turned toward the two anxious faces as their concerned eyes met hers. "I'm tired. I’m going to head upstairs to rest," Evelyn stated, cutting them off before either could voice their worries. What they chose to do with their time wasn’t her concern. As for Silas, or the fact that he was sleeping with someone else while still being engaged to her? She wasn’t interested in such garbage. Let him take his fun where he wanted; she certainly didn’t need any of it. The subject of breaking up with him could wait—bringing it up now would only lead to complications. She needed to think it through, to prepare a way for Silas to not be able to refuse her when the moment came. Ascending the staircase, she barely made it halfway up before her body protested, coming to a halt. Even with all the medications she took, nothing changed; it was a constant reminder of her weakened state. It was never a matter of wanting to get better for them, but instead just the exhausting realization that she was simply unwell. Once, she’d pushed herself to be healthier, to escape their worry, but that was no longer needed. After all, the countless prescriptions and potions had done little more than prolong the inevitable.
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