Chapter 103

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of our penthouse, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. I stretched beneath the silk sheets, my fingers brushing against Nathaniel's bare chest. His steady breathing told me he was still asleep, the stress lines from last night's board meeting finally smoothed away.

My phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Gabrielle's name flashed across the screen with three urgent messages about the Montgomery project. I slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Nathaniel, and padded barefoot to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

The view never failed to take my breath away. From our 80th-floor vantage point, Manhattan stretched before me like a living blueprint, each building a testament to someone's architectural dream. My fingers itched to sketch the skyline's ever-changing silhouette.

The shower turned on behind me. Through the frosted glass, I could see Nathaniel's muscular outline. My stomach did that familiar flip it always did when I watched him. Even after two years of marriage, the man could still make my pulse race.

"Good morning, Mrs. Martin," his deep voice rumbled as he emerged, towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets clung to his dark hair, tracing paths down his sculpted torso. "You're up early."

"Work never sleeps," I quipped, accepting the steaming mug of coffee he handed me. The rich aroma of Ethiopian beans filled the space between us. "Gabrielle says the Montgomery clients want to move up the presentation."

Nathaniel's brow furrowed as he buttoned his dress shirt. "That's this Thursday, isn't it? Right before the gala." His fingers stilled on the third button. "You're not canceling on me again, are you?"

I opened my mouth to respond when his phone rang. The caller ID showed Samuel Yates. Nathaniel's expression darkened as he listened to whatever his secretary was saying.

"I'll be there in twenty," he said tersely before hanging up. "Isabella's back in town."

The coffee turned bitter in my mouth. Isabella Davis - Nathaniel's ex-fiancée and the woman who'd nearly destroyed our relationship two years ago. She'd disappeared to Paris after the scandal, leaving her modeling career in shambles.

"And?" I forced my voice to remain steady.

"And she's claiming she has information about my grandfather's will." Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Edward's been acting strange lately. I need to see what this is about."

I set down my mug with deliberate calm. "I'm coming with you."

The Martin Group headquarters loomed over Fifth Avenue like a modern fortress. The elevator ride to the executive floor was silent except for the soft hum of machinery. Samuel met us at the doors, his usually composed face strained.

"She's in the conference room with Vanessa," he murmured. "They're demanding to see the original will documents."

Nathaniel's hand found mine as we walked down the corridor. His grip was almost painfully tight. Through the glass walls, I could see Isabella lounging in a chair like she owned the place, her long legs crossed at the ankle. Vanessa stood behind her, tapping impatiently on an iPad.

The moment we entered, Isabella's crimson lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her cold blue eyes. "Nate," she purred, ignoring me completely. "It's been too long."

Nathaniel didn't return the smile. "What's this about, Isabella?"

She produced a manila envelope from her designer bag with a dramatic flourish. "I think you'll find this very interesting. Your dear grandfather made some... interesting provisions before he passed."

Vanessa placed a recording device on the table. "Play it," Isabella commanded.

The voice that filled the room was unmistakably Edward Martin's, though weaker than I remembered. "If Nathaniel divorces Evelyn within five years of our agreement, the Pineview estate and controlling shares revert to the family trust..."

The blood drained from my face. Nathaniel went rigid beside me. Isabella's smile widened. "Surprise, darling. Your marriage was part of a business deal all along."

Evelyn remained silent, her delicate features unreadable, her gaze icy and detached.

Isabella pressed on, "Evelyn, do you know why Nathaniel is so insistent on you having a child?"

"So you called me here just to tell me that?" Evelyn countered, her voice laced with skepticism.

"Not entirely. I thought you deserved the truth rather than being kept in the dark. Nathaniel didn’t announce your marriage because he wants a future with you—he did it to appease his grandfather and to convince you to agree to a child."

A cold glint flashed in Evelyn’s eyes. Though her lips curved slightly, her expression remained rigid. "So Nathaniel told you to keep this from me, yet you’re betraying his trust?"

"Evelyn, we’re both women. I couldn’t let you live a lie."

"Then I suppose I should thank you?"

"No need. After all, Nathaniel and I will be raising the child together. If anything, I should thank you for carrying our baby."

Isabella’s tone dripped with smug satisfaction, deliberately provocative.

Evelyn’s breath hitched, disbelief flickering across her face before hardening into something sharper.

Her voice was steady but frosty. "If Nathaniel wanted this kept secret, why would you risk telling me? Unless—this is just another one of your lies. Are you that desperate for attention? Stop wasting my time with these petty games."

"You don’t believe me?"

"Why should I?"

"Time will prove everything. Once you give birth, you’ll see exactly what Nathaniel intends to do."

Isabella sounded utterly unshaken.

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her phone before she abruptly ended the call.

Of course, she wouldn’t take Isabella’s words at face value. The woman had spun too many falsehoods before—this was likely just another ploy to undermine Nathaniel’s public acknowledgment of their marriage.

Yet, despite herself, doubt gnawed at her.

Before she could process it, a voice message arrived from Isabella. Reluctantly, Evelyn played it.

A deep, familiar voice filled the air: "Of course, I just want kids."

Her stomach twisted.

Then came Isabella’s taunting follow-up:

[Still in denial? That’s Nathaniel’s promise to me. Ask Thomas or Samuel—they’ll confirm it. Or wait until after the baby’s born. Unless you’re too scared to face the truth.]

Evelyn’s fingers hovered over the screen before she typed back: [Go to hell.]

She tossed her phone aside, staring blankly out the window, her mind in turmoil.

Is that really what Nathaniel wants?

She refused to believe it.

But that voice—his voice—was undeniable.

Evelyn knew exactly who had orchestrated the recent media frenzy. She had even hinted her suspicions to Nathaniel.

Yet he had done nothing.

Was it because he lacked proof? Or because he simply didn’t care?

She searched for excuses to defend him but found none. A bitter laugh escaped her.

While Evelyn wrestled with frustration and hurt, Isabella reveled in triumph.

Ever since the Martin Group had publicly confirmed Nathaniel’s marriage to Evelyn, Isabella had deliberately avoided contacting him. She had waited, expecting him to reach out—but two days had passed in silence.