Chapter 2 — First Impressions and Tensions

Evelyn

The gates to Gabriel Lawson’s mansion loomed ahead, wrought iron spears clawing at the overcast sky. Evelyn’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles pale against the leather. She had seen estates like this before—cold, imposing fortresses designed to keep the world at bay. This time, though, she had to step inside. Whether she liked it or not.

As the gates slid open with a low, mechanical hum, Evelyn’s stomach clenched—not with nerves, exactly, but with a sharp edge of irritation. She knew this world all too well. A world of carefully curated perfection, where control masked insecurity. And today, she wasn’t just an outsider; she was stepping into the lion’s den.

The driveway snaked between manicured hedges, standing as stiff as sentries. The house—a monolith of glass and steel—reflected the dull gray sky, mirroring the coldness she sensed from Gabriel Lawson’s world. She parked and stepped out into the crisp air, pausing briefly before slinging her leather bag over her shoulder.

Her mind flickered to her clinic, the unpaid bills piling up, the staff she couldn’t afford to keep. This appointment, this client—Gabriel Lawson—could be the difference between keeping the clinic’s doors open or closing them for good. If this didn’t work out, she wasn’t just losing her livelihood. She was losing her purpose.

At the front door, a middle-aged housekeeper greeted her—her uniform crisp, her smile polite but guarded. “Dr. Marks, I presume?”

“Yes, thank you,” Evelyn replied, offering a tight smile in return.

The housekeeper led her through the grand foyer, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the marble floors. The space was cavernous, designed to dwarf anyone who entered. The walls were bare except for a few abstract paintings that did little to warm the sterile atmosphere. Despite all the wealth on display, it felt hollow, as if the house itself were holding its breath.

“Mr. Lawson will meet you in the study,” the housekeeper said, gesturing toward a set of double doors. “Miss Sophie is there as well.”

Evelyn paused just before the doors, taking a steadying breath. She wasn’t just here to meet a billionaire. She was here to help a little girl who had been failed by others. She pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

The study was vast, lined with shelves filled with pristine books that looked more like props than well-worn volumes. A sleek, dormant fireplace sat in the corner, its marble mantle untouched. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the meticulously kept grounds, but even the open space felt suffocating.

Gabriel Lawson stood by the window, his back straight as a board, arms crossed. He turned as she entered, his gaze sharp and assessing, blue eyes locking onto hers. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and composed, his tailored suit fitting him like armor. Everything about him screamed control, from the rigid lines of his posture to the careful way he measured her with his eyes.

“Dr. Marks,” he said, his voice calm but laced with skepticism. “Thank you for coming.”

Evelyn nodded, her attention shifting to the small figure curled up on the couch—Sophie Lawson. The little girl had her knees tucked to her chest, her face partially obscured by thick brown hair. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her dress, an anxious rhythm that Evelyn recognized all too well.

“Sophie, this is Dr. Marks,” Gabriel said, his tone softening slightly as he addressed his daughter, though the shift was barely noticeable.

Sophie glanced up for only a second before her gaze dropped again, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress.

Evelyn crouched down, lowering herself to Sophie’s level. “Hi, Sophie,” she said gently. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Sophie’s eyes flickered up briefly, but she remained silent, her small body tense as if bracing for something. Evelyn could almost feel the weight of the room pressing in on the girl, the tension thick between her and her father.

Gabriel cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I’ve read about your methods, Dr. Marks,” he said, his voice slipping back into its controlled cadence. “I won’t lie—I’m skeptical.”

Evelyn rose to her feet. “Skeptical?”

“We’ve had other therapists. None of them could reach her.” His voice was calm, but beneath it, there was something harder—frustration, maybe even fear. “Can you actually help?”

Evelyn’s jaw tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. She wasn’t a stranger to parents questioning her abilities, but Gabriel’s tone—itched at her. As if this were just another business transaction. As if Sophie were a problem to be solved.

“Therapy isn’t about control, Mr. Lawson,” she said, her tone measured. “It’s about creating a space where Sophie feels safe enough to express herself.”

Gabriel’s gaze didn’t waver. “And you think you can do that?”

Evelyn glanced at Sophie again—still quiet, still curled in on herself. “I think Sophie and I will take it one step at a time—together—if that’s what she wants.”

The silence stretched, heavy and taut. Gabriel was watching her closely, weighing her words like a man used to making calculations. She could almost see the battle going on behind his eyes—the constant need for control warring with his desperation to help his daughter.

“I’ll be in the room,” he said finally, his voice firm. “For the session.”

Evelyn’s first instinct was to push back. She knew from experience how a parent’s presence could stifle a child’s openness. Especially a parent like Gabriel. But one glance at Sophie—small, hunched, her fingers now clutching the edge of a pillow—made her reconsider. She had to tread carefully here.

“We’ll see how it goes,” she said, choosing her words with care. “But if I feel that Sophie needs privacy, I’ll ask for it.”

Gabriel’s jaw clenched, but after a moment, he gave a curt nod. “Fine.”

Evelyn turned back to Sophie, her voice softening. “Do you like to draw, Sophie?”

The girl’s eyes flicked up again, just for a second. There was a faint flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—but still, she remained silent.

Evelyn reached into her bag and pulled out a small sketchbook along with a set of colored pencils. She held them out toward Sophie, offering the items like a peace offering. “I brought these for you. You don’t have to use them now, but if you ever feel like drawing, they’re yours.”

Sophie’s gaze darted toward her father, seeking... permission? Gabriel’s expression softened—just slightly—and he gave her a small nod. Slowly, hesitantly, Sophie reached out and took the sketchbook, clutching it tightly against her chest.

Evelyn smiled gently. “I’m here to help, Sophie. We’ll take this at your pace, okay? No rush.”

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to Evelyn, and for the first time, there was a crack in his composed facade. “We’ll see,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Evelyn stood, still feeling the weight of the tension in the room—but there was something new, too. A shift. A small one, but it was there. A crack in the walls Gabriel had built around himself and his daughter. And cracks, Evelyn knew, were where the light started to seep in.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Lawson,” she said, offering a polite nod. “Sophie, I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

Sophie didn’t respond, but she hugged the sketchbook tighter. It was a small gesture, but it was something. A beginning.

As Evelyn made her way back through the mansion, the sterile coldness of the space contrasted sharply with the warmth she tried to foster in her clinic. This was going to be a challenge, she thought. A challenge not just with Sophie, but with Gabriel as well.

But Evelyn thrived on challenges. And despite the tension, despite Gabriel’s walls, she knew one thing for certain: she wouldn’t let this family down.

She glanced down at her pocket watch, the faint ticking a reminder of time slipping away. This was just the beginning, and already the cracks were showing.