Dear Eva - Episode 5
Stan started acting differently. It wasn't the kind of difference you could easily point at—it was subtle, careful, and calculated. Like a man trying hard to wear a mask that no longer fits. He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He spoke, but sometimes forgot to call me "Dear Eva," and when I asked about it, he'd just say, "I'm sorry, I've had a lot on my mind."
And he wasn't lying.
It began with a phone call. A call I didn't mean to overhear, but couldn't ignore.
That evening, I had returned to the hotel to pick up my forgotten notepad. I was heading to the staff quarters when I heard his voice in the corridor.
"No, I told you, don't call me here again. This isn't part of the plan," Stan said.
Plan?
I froze. My heartbeat quickened. I leaned against the wall, breath held tight.
"She suspects nothing," he continued. "She thinks I'm just some guy who swept her off her feet. But we need to move fast. Kingsley is getting suspicious."
My legs felt weak. Was he talking about me?
I didn't hear the rest. I walked away quickly, heart hammering against my ribs, questions banging against my brain.
The next day, Stan behaved like nothing had happened. He brought me my favorite chocolate drink during break, and even helped me arrange the files in the reception drawer.
But I had already heard too much.
I didn't confront him right away. I needed answers first. Real answers. So I went to the only person who might know something—Kingsley.
"Sir," I said as I knocked on his office door, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
He looked up. "Eva. Come in."
I sat down. My palms were sweaty, my heart pounding.
"I want to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."
"Who is Stan?"
His expression hardened.
"He said he was like a brother to you," I added. "But… is that really true?"
Kingsley sighed and leaned back in his seat.
"I didn't want to bring you into this, Eva," he said slowly. "But since you asked… Stan isn't my brother. He's not even my friend."
I blinked. "What?"
"I only said that to keep things civil. Stan is connected to some people who want to take over this hotel. He was planted here to keep an eye on me. I found out a few weeks ago."
I felt the ground shift under me.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" I asked.
"Because I had no proof," Kingsley replied. "Until now, it was just suspicion. But you've just confirmed what I feared. He's using you."
I stood up. My chest tightened.
"He called me 'Dear Eva,'" I whispered. "He looked at me like he meant it."
Kingsley stood too, walked around the desk, and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"I know how it feels. Betrayal is ugly. But I need you to stay calm and strong. We're going to figure this out. Together."
I nodded, fighting back the tears. I wasn't going to let them fall. Not this time.
That evening, I went home and opened my diary.
"Dear Eva," I wrote to myself. "You are stronger than you think. You will not break."
For the next few days, I acted normal. I smiled when Stan smiled. I let him hold my hand, whisper sweet nothings, and plan silly dates. But inside, I was watching. Listening.
And then came the day I found the letter.
It was tucked in a book Stan had borrowed from the hotel library. A page folded with names, addresses, account numbers, and a stamped signature at the bottom. My blood ran cold when I saw the hotel's name there, marked under "Property Acquisition Target."
I took a picture with my phone and put the letter back.
The next morning, I met Kingsley in his office and showed him the photo.
His eyes widened. "This is it. This is the evidence we need."
"What now?" I asked.
"We set a trap."
He leaned closer and explained the plan.
That evening, I invited Stan over to my place. I told him I had made something special. Something sweet. I wore my red dress—the one he once said made me look like a goddess.
He came, smiling as always.
"Dear Eva," he said. "You're glowing tonight."
I smiled back. "I wanted to see your reaction."
He chuckled. "You got me."
We had dinner. I asked him questions. Innocent ones.
"So… what do you want to do in the future?"
He smiled, his eyes distant. "Start a business. Maybe a hotel."
"How would you afford it?"
He shrugged. "I have investors."
"People like Kingsley?"
He froze for a second, then smiled again. "You ask too many questions, Eva."
I laughed lightly. "I just want to know more about the man I… like."
His expression softened, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of guilt.
But I shut it down.
Because I knew what he had planned.
The next day, Kingsley invited Stan for a meeting. He told him an investor wanted to meet with us both—said it was a big break for the hotel and for Stan, if he was loyal.
Stan came, of course.
He walked into the conference room, all smiles, until he saw the police.
"You set me up," he whispered, turning to me.
"'Dear Eva,'" I said coldly, "was your weapon. But I made it my shield."
Kingsley handed the evidence to the officers.
Stan was arrested for fraud, identity theft, and attempted corporate sabotage.
When it was over, I sat at my desk and breathed for the first time in days.
I picked up my pen and opened my diary again.
"Dear Eva," I wrote. "You were born for this. You turned betrayal into strength. You turned love into power. You survived."
I closed the book.
To be continued...