Chapter 116

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. I stretched beneath the silk sheets, my fingers brushing against the empty space beside me. Nathaniel had already left for work—again.

A sigh escaped my lips as I sat up, running a hand through my tangled hair. The bed felt too large without him. Too cold.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory.

"Evelyn, the client moved the meeting to 10 AM. Don’t be late."

I groaned. Another last-minute change.

Throwing the covers aside, I padded to the bathroom, the cool tiles beneath my feet a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. The reflection in the mirror stared back at me—tired eyes, faint shadows beneath them.

When was the last time I had a full night’s sleep?

The shower did little to ease the tension coiling in my shoulders. As the water cascaded over me, my thoughts drifted to Nathaniel. Lately, it felt like we were living separate lives. He was buried in work, and I—well, I was just trying to keep up.

Dressed in a tailored navy suit, I grabbed my bag and headed out. Alfred, our butler, stood by the door, holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"For you, Mrs. Martin," he said with a polite smile.

"Bless you," I murmured, taking the cup. The rich aroma was the only thing keeping me upright.

The drive to the office was a blur of honking cars and flashing lights. By the time I arrived, my coffee was half gone, and my patience was wearing thin.

Gabrielle, my assistant, intercepted me the moment I stepped off the elevator.

"Evelyn, the client is already here," she whispered urgently.

I suppressed a groan. Of course they are.

Straightening my shoulders, I strode into the conference room, forcing a professional smile. Gregory shot me a look—half exasperation, half sympathy.

The meeting dragged on, filled with endless revisions and impossible demands. By the end of it, my temples throbbed.

As the clients filed out, Gregory lingered.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

I rubbed my forehead. "Just tired."

He hesitated before speaking. "You know, if you need to talk—"

"I’m fine," I cut in, sharper than intended.

Gregory held up his hands in surrender. "Alright. Just checking."

The rest of the day passed in a haze of emails and phone calls. By the time I left the office, the sun had long since set.

The penthouse was dark when I arrived. No Nathaniel. Again.

I dropped my bag on the couch and poured myself a glass of wine, sinking into the plush cushions. The silence was deafening.

My phone buzzed—a message from Isabella.

"We need to talk."

I stared at the screen, my stomach twisting.

What now?

Observing his reaction, Evelyn realized he truly adored children.

For a fleeting moment, she considered telling him the truth—that their child already existed. She wondered how he would react.

But she dismissed the thought just as quickly.

His biggest reaction would probably be that he could give Isabella a child instead, Evelyn mused bitterly.

So she kept silent.

Nathaniel stared at her, unblinking, his expression unreadable. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his phone rang.

Glancing at the screen, he declined the call immediately. Evelyn didn’t need to ask—she already knew who it was.

"I was planning to go out with Caroline," she said coolly. "If there’s nothing else, we’ll leave first."

Nathaniel’s grip on her wrist tightened. "When are you moving back?"

"I’m not." She frowned.

His jaw clenched, but before he could respond, his phone rang again. This time, he answered with a terse, "What?"

Evelyn tried to pull away, but he held firm.

On the other end of the line, Isabella’s voice was soft and pleading. "Nathaniel, can you come with me to my therapy session? I have an appointment, but I’m scared to go alone..."

"I’ll send Samuel."

"Please, Nathaniel. I need you there. Only you can help me remember what happened that night. Without you, I don’t think I can do this."

His expression darkened. "Fine."

"Thank you. I’ll wait for you."

Hanging up, Nathaniel turned back to Evelyn. "Isabella needs me to go with her. She’s struggling with—"

"You don’t owe me an explanation," Evelyn cut in, her voice icy. "Your relationship with Isabella is your business, not mine. You said that, remember?"

She tried to wrench her wrist free, but his grip was unrelenting.

"You’re hurting me," she hissed.

Nathaniel released her instantly, his gaze dropping to the reddened skin of her wrist. His voice was rough with frustration. "So you really don’t care what happens between Isabella and me?"

Evelyn laughed humorlessly. "Does it matter to you whether I care or not?"

The tension between them thickened. Sensing the situation escalating, Caroline quickly intervened. "Mr. Martin, Evelyn—maybe this isn’t the best place for this conversation. There are too many people around."

Nathaniel ignored her, his eyes locked onto Evelyn’s. "You moved out because you were upset about the baby. Now, as my wife, you act like you couldn’t care less about anything I do. What’s next, Evelyn? What are you planning?"

"Would you agree to whatever I want?"

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means I’m tired of this," Evelyn said flatly. "You can’t let go of Isabella—you drop everything the second she calls. But then you rush over here because you’re worried I might be pregnant. Nathaniel, we should just get a divorce. Don’t you think?"