Chapter 1
Title: Comeback in the City of Dreams Evelyn Everwood had been making her mark in the bustling world of business, thriving in the fast-paced environment of a major marketing firm in Los Angeles. Her ambition and clever strategies earned her a reputation among peers, but everything changed in an instant. One fateful afternoon, as she sped along the sunny California highways, a tragic car accident stole her life away, or so it seemed. When she awoke, reality felt surreal. She found herself living the life of another—a foreign exchange student struggling to make ends meet in the vibrant city of New Haven. This new Evelyn, whom she came to know as Faust, had faced nothing but disappointments. Despite her efforts, she was solely focused on her studies and had failed miserably at discovering the kind of opportunities that should have come her way. Now, with nothing but an empty wallet holding a meager dollar bill, she faced a dire predicament: a one-way ticket back home was impossible with these funds, and she had no idea how she would manage even a simple dinner that night. Fumbling through the small backpack she had inherited, Evelyn flipped it open and stared into its depths, the weight of hopelessness pressing on her chest. The reality of student life loomed over her, crushing her spirit. She had heard stories about the hardships faced by international students, but living it was another matter altogether. She felt trapped in a whirlwind of pressure—a pressure so intense that even a small setback seemed insurmountable. Meanwhile, slipping into the shoes of Faust exposed her to unexpected encounters, including a chance meeting with Lord Bradford, the elusive merchant known as The Merchant—a man shrouded in mystery and calculated charm. He owned an upscale boutique called The Merchant's Guild in the heart of the city, where wealth and social status mixed seamlessly. His reputation was notorious among students and residents alike; he was both feared and revered. It was said that many who engaged with him ended up tangled in his intricate web of games and schemes, where emotions were seldom involved. As the days blurred into a hazy routine, Evelyn found herself drawn to The Merchant's charm and aloofness. Nevertheless, she was all too aware that beneath his composed exterior lay depths of cunning and intrigue. Yet, the unlikeliness of their worlds colliding now seemed bizarrely interesting. Evelyn's determination ignited a fire within her—could she outmaneuver The Merchant and his games without losing herself in his carefully crafted world? In this new life, Evelyn wasn't alone. She struck a friendship with Foolish Clara, a fellow student whose bubbly personality provided a humorous contrast to their struggles. Clara had her own set of challenges but wore her heart on her sleeve and managed to find joy in the little things—an attitude that both irritated and amused Evelyn. Their contrasting personalities somehow balanced the chaos of student life—Clara’s carefree spirit brought a strange comfort amidst the turmoil in her heart. Little did Evelyn know that her journey was only just beginning. The twists of fate and the threads of life around her unraveled an unexpected complexity that challenged her in ways she could never foresee. Would she navigate the ins and outs of this student life? Would she rise above the challenges and emerge stronger than ever, or would her newfound reality consume her before she could find a way back to herself? Only time would reveal the paths lying ahead in this foreign land, where dreams could either flourish or fade into obscurity. As her new life forged on amid the uncertainty, Evelyn faced both the trials of overcoming the shadows of her past and the unfolding drama with The Merchant. With her heart and intellect engaged in a complex dance, she prepared to confront the challenges ahead. The city, once overwhelming, now felt like the canvas upon which she could repaint her story, weaving the past into a bold new future that was distinctly her own.
Chapter 2
As Evelyn Everwood tidied up, preparing to leave, Lord Bradford returned home. “Bradford, do you need help with dinner?” she offered politely. After changing into his comfortable grey loungewear, Bradford gave her a slight nod and murmured, “Thanks for that.” Evelyn watched him disappear around the corner of the staircase, then hurried to the kitchen, bustling to heat up the meal she had prepared. Once she had set the three dishes and soup on the dining table, Bradford came downstairs, looking a bit worn out. There was something about his brown eyes that seemed warmer than usual. “Evelyn, I'll be in early tomorrow to clean up,” she said, though she knew that after a late night, Bradford typically handled the dishes himself. From what she observed, Bradford was meticulous and disciplined, a trait that surely contributed to his career success. Even after working late nearly to nine, he still insisted on hitting the gym for a bit before bed. He glanced over at the dinner table and said kindly, “Take care, goodnight.” She knew that next, he'd head to the wine cabinet, as it was his routine to pair a fine wine with dinner, elevating her home-cooked meal into a refined dining experience. However, Evelyn was far too preoccupied today to observe which bottle he chose. She closed the door and strolled casually through the front yard, but once she was out of sight, she sprinted down the road. The last bus home left at ten, and with the entire hillside being an upscale neighborhood, she had to cover six kilometers to reach the bus stop at the foot of the mountain. Breathing heavily from exertion, she chided herself, “Just let me show off a little, huh? Acting all prim and proper while the bus waits. I’ll be crying if I miss it.” What Evelyn didn’t know was that as Bradford poured himself a glass of white wine, he strolled over to the window to open it, catching a glimpse of her frantic run. His brown eyes glimmered, almost sparkling gold in the moonlight. The next morning, Evelyn prepared to leave a full ten minutes early, still feeling the consequences of her earlier showiness which had left her legs weak and her knees scraped from a tumble. Her body wasn’t very reliable—after all, she had spent most of her childhood buried in books instead of building strength. Although she felt slightly better today, sprinting was still a stretch for her, so getting a head start was wise. Just as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, the front door creaked open. Evelyn's heart raced, and her eyes widened. Sure enough, Lord Bradford had come back in (of course, he was the only one living there).
Chapter 3
Evelyn Everwood found herself in a dilemma, torn between her work ethic and the practical reality of her situation. She had always been a go-getter, pushing through her modest beginnings, grinding away with the belief that perseverance would lead to success. In her mind, her current responsibilities dictated that she stay and prepare a warm dinner for Lord Bradford, ensuring that she kept her cushy job with minimal hassle. However, her feet were throbbing painfully, and moving as swiftly as the day before was a challenge. Missing the last bus meant she would be stuck on the streets, and before she could process her options, Bradford approached her, his briefcase in hand. “Hey, are you headed out?” he asked. Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat at his warm glance, ready to nod in agreement. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her with gratitude. “Thanks for the hot dinner yesterday. It really made my day better.” This was a rare moment; he stood still before her, his deep eyes twinkling with appreciation. She noticed his lashes were thick, adding to his already handsome features. His simple, sincere thank you felt incredibly gentle and gentlemanly, leaving her a bit awestruck. As her throat felt dry, the words of refusal stuck, and she mumbled, “I’ll heat up dinner for you.” Watching him ascend the staircase, she sighed and resigned herself to the kitchen, deciding there was no rush. After all, she had already missed the bus. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t afford a car, or that she lived in a cramped rental. Who could she blame but herself for being so devoted to her job? With more time on her hands, Evelyn took extra care to garnish the main dish with intricately carved carrots, making it a feast for the eyes as well. She had grown a good deal in her cooking skills over the past three months. It reminded her of how desperate she had felt her first week in this role; she had only a single dollar to her name and ended up washing dishes at a Chinese restaurant just to fill her stomach. That moment had driven home just how lonely and broke she had been. As she scrubbed dishes until her hands swelled, tears threatened to spill. What was the point of all this struggle? Passing the parking lot of the restaurant, a young, charming guy casually asked, “Hey, do you know how to cook Chinese food?” Evelyn’s mind raced, and she replied with nonchalance, “Of course! Employees at Chinese restaurants know their way around the kitchen.” In that instant, she put on her bravado, selling the guy on her culinary skills like a pro. Within ten minutes, she landed a gig that would pay her $2,000 a month. What made her happiest was that she also received a $1,000 advance, soothing her immediate hunger. Eventually, she learned that the dashing young man was an assistant to Bradford's aide. Every Monday, he would cart her to the supermarket for the week’s grocery haul. Plus, her $2,000 paycheck was solely to keep Lord Bradford well-fed. It felt like a dream job had fallen right into her lap — she had to hold onto this opportunity! Today, Bradford wore a creamy beige loungewear ensemble, moving gracefully like a nobleman. After indulging her eyes a moment longer, she decided it was time to take her leave. “Enjoy your meal, Lord Bradford. I’m off home now. Good night.” Just as she took a few steps away, he casually asked, “Evelyn, did you hurt your foot?” Evelyn turned back, smiling lightly, “Just a minor injury; it’s nothing serious.” As she reflexively answered, a pang of annoyance shot through her. Why didn’t she just admit her foot was hurting and ask for a ride home? She had gotten so used to putting on a façade that she didn’t know how to drop it now.
Chapter 4
In the dim glow of the living room, Bradford addressed Evelyn with a sincerity that felt almost palpable, yet his words were paradoxically sharp and probing. This left the normally sharp Evelyn momentarily speechless, and she settled onto the expansive leather sofa, her mind wandering to the choices of the night ahead. The sofa, with its comfortable give, felt worlds apart from the sagging spring mattress in her shared apartment. This was her first time lounging here; typically, at work, she kept her head down, flitting between the kitchen and the dining area. "Maybe after a spell, Mr. Bradford will realize it's getting late,” she mused, “and offer to drive me home.” The thought made her smile faintly. The ideal scenario would begin with her expressing her gratitude, graciously accepting his kindness. With that notion, Evelyn retrieved a book from her backpack in a bid to delay the inevitable. Evelyn was a PhD student studying human resource management—an achievement that brought her a mix of joy and concern upon seeing her diploma. Joy because it wasn’t a hard science, which would have felt like an insurmountable gap given her background in finance. Concern lingered, however, because securing a job in her field overseas proved challenging, especially for a Chinese national in the HR sector where experience took precedence over advanced degrees. With only three months left on her student visa, she was dedicated to patching up her HR skills in a grasping effort to find employment that respected her qualifications. Outside, the chorus of croaking frogs lulled Evelyn into a deep focus on her readings. She pondered organizational culture—a concept that pertains to the values, norms, and behaviors that shape how employees interact and work. The more she learned, the more she compared theory to practice, noting that an innovative company like Ingell Design Co. championed flexibility in both proposals and promotions as part of their ethos. That logo looks familiar; it resembles Intel's, she thought. Her reverie was interrupted by Bradford's gentle voice, “Evelyn, is your ankle still troubling you?” “Not anymore, thank you,” she replied instinctively, only to realize how odd it was to brush off what felt like an invitation for deeper help. He must have finished dinner, for there was a subtle undertone of dismissal in his tone. Disheartened, Evelyn stood to leave, saying, “I guess I should head home. Goodnight.” As she opened the door, an overwhelming sense of melancholy swept over her. The chilly night air struck starkly, reminding her of how isolated she seemed, adrift possibly on the edge of homelessness. Just then, she heard Bradford call from behind her. “Has it really gotten so late? Do you need a ride home, Evelyn?” A flicker of surprise brightened her expression. “Wouldn’t that be a bother?” Her instinct to remain polite flared momentarily, but her reason prevailed. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d truly appreciate it.”
Chapter 5
As the evening unfolded, any gentleman with a sense of decorum would know to extend his courtesy. Evelyn Everwood followed Lord Bradford into the garage, feeling that perhaps this detour led by Bradford would prove beneficial. Observing Bradford's tall and imposing figure from behind, she realized that beneath his cool and distant facade lay a heart that was, after all, soft and kind. Evelyn began to reflect on herself. Truth be told, she had fulfilled only the bare minimum of her responsibilities; she wasn't particularly invested in her work. She often took advantage of the fact that her employers were largely unfamiliar with the intricacies of Chinese cuisine. Dishes like Dongpo pork and Three Cup Chicken were a challenge she had never dared to tackle. As the garage light flickered on, her heart skipped a beat—revealing a stunning blue Lamborghini. Anyone would be thrilled to ride in a Lamborghini at least once in their life. Despite her racing heart, Evelyn managed to maintain a composed exterior. Her professional background as a certified financial planner for the affluent had prepared her well for moments of pressure. When dealing with wealthy clients, skepticism was the norm. Thus, she had honed the skill of appearing unfazed, which had developed her natural ability to confidently navigate any situation. The Lamborghini was a masterpiece, showcasing its value with its upward-opening doors, cushioned seats, and an array of electronic gadgets. It was an incredible stroke of luck to even have the chance to ride in it, especially since Lord Bradford, exhausted from work, had personally offered her a ride home. Feeling indebted, she promised herself to cook a beautiful meal for him as a way of gratitude. As Lord Bradford settled into the driver's seat, his tall figure and sharp features exuded an aura of authority that was impossible to ignore. Just as she prepared to express her gratitude once more, Lord Bradford suddenly paused. “Uh-oh,” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong?” Evelyn inquired. “The car won't start.” Evelyn could only blink in response. When Bradford turned to regard her, his brown eyes held uncertainty—and a hint of regret. Yet, in that moment, she perceived a deeper nuance behind his gaze. Suppressing her own disappointment, Evelyn offered gently, “Maybe it just needs a switch flipped or something.” Bradford pressed several buttons up front. Then, shrugging, he said, “Still nothing.” Evelyn's gaze locked on his eyes, realizing that beneath his angelic appearance lurked a mischievous spirit. Holding her emotions in check, she responded more reservedly, “Then it’s not a problem. Goodnight, Lord Bradford.” With that, she decisively exited the car, disregarding the pain in her knees, rushing toward the front gate. The principles of investment burned in her mind: when the stakes are too high, cut your losses immediately, and she'd done enough of that already. She mentally berated Bradford, thinking: "You can forget about ever tasting Dongpo pork! Hmph." As she made her way to the entrance, she sensed Bradford's voice calling out behind her, but she didn't turn back, fixating instead on her thoughts: You won't be having that pork. You won't be having it. Later, wrapped in her plush comforter as she sat on her Sealy mattress, the events of the evening replayed in her mind, leaving her feeling disoriented. The earlier frustration had caused her to act impulsively, ignoring Bradford's calls until he caught her wrist, pulling her attention back. From that point onward, the rest of the evening unfolded like a dream. Still unsure whether Lord Bradford had been teasing her, he insistently led her back inside and offered her an overnight stay in a guest room on the first floor. After ensuring she was comfortable, he simply said goodnight and headed upstairs. Before drifting off to sleep, Evelyn glanced at her wrist where his warm grip had lingered, reflecting, “Lord Bradford certainly has a strong hold.” She pondered briefly, perhaps it was time to experiment with that Dongpo pork recipe after all.
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