Chapter 124

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, illuminating the blueprints spread across her desk. Her fingers traced the intricate lines of the latest project—a luxury resort in the Maldives. The design was ambitious, but she thrived on challenges.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Gabrielle, her assistant, peeked in. "Mr. Wilson is here to see you."

Evelyn nodded. "Send him in."

Gregory strode in, his usual confident demeanor slightly frayed at the edges. "We have a problem," he said without preamble.

Evelyn arched a brow. "What kind of problem?"

"The client wants major revisions. Again." He dropped a folder onto her desk. "They’re insisting on a complete redesign of the central pavilion."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "They approved the plans last week."

Gregory shrugged. "Apparently, they changed their minds after seeing a competitor’s project."

She flipped open the folder, scanning the notes. The changes were extensive—and unreasonable. "This isn’t just a revision. It’s starting from scratch."

"I know." Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "But they’re threatening to pull out if we don’t comply."

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. This client had been difficult from the start, but the contract was lucrative. Losing it would hurt the firm.

She tapped her pen against the desk. "Tell them we’ll review their requests, but we need a formal meeting to discuss feasibility and timeline."

Gregory nodded. "I’ll set it up."

As he turned to leave, Evelyn added, "And Gregory? Make it clear that additional changes will incur extra costs."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Will do."

The moment the door closed, Evelyn leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. The weight of the situation pressed on her shoulders. She needed a distraction.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Nathaniel:

Dinner tonight? I have something to tell you.

Her pulse quickened. Nathaniel had been unusually secretive lately. She typed a quick reply:

Sounds serious. Should I be worried?

His response came instantly:

Not worried. Just… important.

Evelyn chewed her lip. Important could mean anything—good or bad.

Before she could dwell on it, another message popped up—this time from Charlotte:

Emergency girls’ night. My place. 8 PM. No excuses.

Evelyn chuckled. Charlotte’s "emergencies" usually involved wine and gossip. Still, it was exactly what she needed.

She replied: I’ll be there.

As she set her phone down, her gaze drifted back to the blueprints. The resort project was a mess, Nathaniel was being cryptic, and Charlotte was summoning her for an impromptu therapy session.

Just another day in the life of Evelyn Mitchell.

She smiled to herself.

Bring it on.

Nathaniel was burning up with fever after being drenched for hours. His head spun, making it impossible to think straight. He fixed his bleary gaze on Evelyn and muttered, "I'm not going to the hospital."

Evelyn crossed her arms. "If you don’t get treated, this fever could make you delirious. Is that what you want?"

"Why am I even sick?" he demanded.

Guilt twisted Evelyn’s stomach, leaving her silent.

Nathaniel’s lips curled into a weak smirk. "This fever is your fault, so you’re responsible for taking care of me until it’s gone. Evelyn, we’re still married. It’s your duty. Don’t you agree?"

She exhaled sharply but couldn’t argue.

Nathaniel refused to leave, and Evelyn couldn’t force him out.

It was her mistake, after all. She hadn’t planned on letting him stay, let alone inviting him into her apartment. But once he’d shown up drunk and vulnerable, some stubborn sense of obligation took hold.

Her silence seemed to satisfy Nathaniel. He spent the morning dozing, and the apartment remained peaceful.

By lunchtime, Evelyn had prepared two simple dishes—grilled steak and creamy pumpkin soup.

They sat across from each other at the small dining table. Nathaniel eyed the food. It looked surprisingly good—homely and warm, despite its simplicity.

Noticing his scrutiny, Evelyn tensed. "The fridge was nearly empty. If it’s not to your taste, I can order something else."

"Did you make this?" Nathaniel’s deep voice cut through her thoughts.

She nodded. "You should eat something light while you’re sick."

Then she dug in, her stomach growling after a sleepless night and busy morning.

Nathaniel said nothing else. He picked up his spoon and tasted the soup. It was… surprisingly decent.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. He set the spoon down. "When did you learn to cook? After leaving the mansion?"

Evelyn glanced up. "No. I had to figure it out during college when I was living alone."

"Did the Mitchells not take care of you back then?"

Nathaniel rarely asked about her past, especially her life before their marriage.

Evelyn paused. It was unexpected, but the memories no longer stung. Her voice was even. "It doesn’t matter. That’s all in the past."

Nathaniel studied her, his expression unreadable.

Evelyn didn’t elaborate. Once they finished eating, she cleared the dishes.

Then Nathaniel held out his hand. "Give me your phone."

His own had been destroyed—by his own doing.

Evelyn handed it over, and he dialed Samuel. "Bring me a change of clothes to Evelyn’s apartment. And my laptop. I’ll be working remotely for the next few days."

Samuel had been reeling since last night. He’d considered calling back, but Nathaniel’s furious "Get lost!" had stopped him.

Now, hearing Nathaniel’s voice on Evelyn’s phone didn’t shock him half as much as the idea of Nathaniel working from home.

"Mr. Martin," Samuel ventured carefully, "is everything alright?"

"Samuel," Nathaniel said coolly, "since when do you question me?"

Samuel swallowed. "Right away, sir."

Nathaniel ended the call.

Evelyn frowned. "Why are you having Samuel bring you clothes?"