Chapter 120

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the bedroom. Evelyn stirred, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. Nathaniel had already left for work—again.

She sighed, sitting up and running a hand through her tousled hair. The weight of their recent arguments pressed heavily on her chest. Ever since Isabella had reappeared in their lives, everything had become… complicated.

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

"Evelyn, the client wants revisions by noon. They’re pushing for a more modern aesthetic."

She groaned. Another last-minute change.

Downstairs, Alfred had prepared her usual coffee—black, no sugar. The rich aroma filled the kitchen, but even that couldn’t lift her mood.

"Good morning, Mrs. Martin," Alfred greeted, his tone as composed as ever.

"Morning," she murmured, taking a sip.

The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

"Mr. Martin left early," Alfred offered, as if sensing her thoughts. "He mentioned an urgent meeting."

Evelyn nodded, though she knew better. Nathaniel had been distant lately, his excuses growing flimsier by the day.

Her phone buzzed again—this time, a notification from a gossip site.

"Isabella Davis Spotted Leaving Martin Group Headquarters—What Does This Mean for the Power Couple?"

Her grip on the coffee cup tightened.

Just then, the front door opened, and Nathaniel strode in, his expression unreadable.

"You're back early," Evelyn remarked, her voice carefully neutral.

He hesitated, then sighed. "We need to talk."

Her stomach twisted. Those words never led anywhere good.

"About what?"

His gaze flickered to her phone, still displaying the headline. His jaw clenched.

"About Isabella."

Evelyn set her cup down with deliberate calm. "What about her?"

Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "It’s not what you think."

"Then enlighten me."

He exhaled sharply. "She’s working on a project with the company. That’s all."

Evelyn arched a brow. "And the press just happened to catch her leaving your office?"

"It’s business, Evelyn."

"Funny how your business always involves her."

The tension between them crackled, neither willing to back down.

Before he could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening.

"I have to take this."

She watched as he stepped away, his voice low and urgent.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Shall I prepare breakfast, Mrs. Martin?"

Evelyn shook her head. "No, thank you. I’ve lost my appetite."

She grabbed her bag and headed for the door, her mind racing. If Nathaniel thought she’d just stand by while Isabella weaved her way back into their lives, he had another thing coming.

As she stepped outside, the crisp morning air did little to cool her simmering anger.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The clock had long since struck midnight, wrapping the world in a hushed silence.

Thomas and the chauffeur carefully guided Nathaniel out of the car, steadying him as they made their way toward the elevator.

Nathaniel, his head spinning, rasped out, "This isn't Pineview Villa."

Thomas smirked. "Planning to spend the night alone, are we?"

Nathaniel scowled. "None of your damn business."

"Fine, not my problem. Want me to take you back?" Thomas pressed the elevator button, having already memorized the details—18th floor, Apartment 101.

Half a minute later, the elevator doors slid open. Thomas maneuvered Nathaniel to the front door and rang the bell, glancing at his friend with amusement. "Whether she opens this door decides your fate."

The next second, the door swung inward.

A drowsy Evelyn blinked at the two men standing before her.

Thomas spoke first. "Evelyn, sorry to bother you so late. Nathaniel had a few too many drinks and wouldn’t stop asking for you. Had no choice but to bring him here."

Nathaniel slumped against him, silent and unresponsive.

Evelyn frowned. "We're separated now. Didn’t he tell you?"

At the sound of her voice, Nathaniel’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto her with an unfocused gaze.

Thomas shrugged. "Evelyn, it’s late, and I’m exhausted. Just let him crash here tonight. He can leave on his own tomorrow, alright?"

Without waiting for her reply, he nudged Nathaniel inside.

Evelyn instinctively stepped back, a protective hand hovering over her belly.

Thomas deposited Nathaniel onto the sofa, where he sprawled motionless. "There you go. I’ll leave you to it. Get some rest."

"Wait—" Evelyn’s protest was cut short as Thomas strode out, shutting the door behind him.

She exhaled sharply, then turned her attention to the man on her couch. "Nathaniel, are you awake?"

A low, rough hum was his only response.

Evelyn approached, crouching beside him. "Should I call Samuel to pick you up?"

Though they were still legally married, they stood on the precipice of divorce.

Once a decision was made, hesitation only bred weakness.

Evelyn feared his presence would unravel her resolve.

The mere thought of staying married—of her child calling Isabella "Mom"—sent a cold wave of dread through her.

Nathaniel remained silent. Evelyn reached into his coat pocket, retrieving his phone. The screen was unlocked, and she quickly dialed Samuel’s number.

Despite the late hour, Samuel answered immediately.

"Samuel, it’s Evelyn. Could you come to my apartment? Nathaniel’s had too much to drink. I need you to—"

Before she could finish, the phone was yanked from her grasp. Nathaniel’s voice, thick with alcohol, growled, "Get lost."

Then he hurled the phone across the room.

Evelyn’s frown deepened. "What the hell was that for?"

"What are you doing?" Nathaniel shot back.

He lay half-propped on the sofa, eyes narrowed, his breath heavy with the scent of whiskey.