Chapter 129

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. Her fingers flew over the blueprints, making precise adjustments with her mechanical pencil. The scent of freshly brewed coffee from Gabrielle's desk mingled with the faint aroma of ink and paper.

A sharp knock interrupted her concentration. "Come in," she called without looking up.

The door swung open to reveal Nathaniel, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. "Working through lunch again?" His deep voice held a note of amusement as he placed a paper bag on her desk. "I brought your favorite—turkey avocado from that deli you love."

Evelyn finally glanced up, her lips curving into a smile. "You're my savior. I completely lost track of time." She reached for the sandwich, her stomach growling in anticipation.

Nathaniel leaned against her desk, watching her unwrap the food. "Edward called an emergency board meeting this afternoon. Something about the Summit Realty merger." His expression darkened slightly. "I have a feeling Isabella's involved."

Evelyn paused mid-bite. "What makes you say that?"

"Call it instinct." He straightened his tie, a telltale sign of his agitation. "Samuel intercepted some emails between her agent Vanessa and Summit's project manager Jonathan. The timing's too convenient."

Setting down her sandwich, Evelyn wiped her hands. "Should I come with you?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "Better if you stay clear. If this is another one of her schemes..." His jaw tightened. "I won't let her sabotage us again."

Before Evelyn could respond, her phone buzzed. A text from Charlotte flashed on screen: Emergency at the clinic. Can you cover my shift tonight?

She typed a quick reply as Nathaniel's phone rang. He answered tersely, his posture stiffening. "When?... No, delay them... I'll be there in twenty." Hanging up, he met Evelyn's concerned gaze. "Isabella just arrived at Martin Tower with Sebastian Wilson. They're demanding immediate renegotiation of the merger terms."

Evelyn stood abruptly, knocking over her coffee cup. The dark liquid spread across her blueprints like a stain. "This isn't coincidence. She's been planning this."

Nathaniel caught her hand, his grip firm. "Trust me to handle this. Go help Charlotte—we'll reconvene tonight." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before striding out, his polished shoes clicking against the hardwood.

Gabrielle appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed. "Everything okay?"

Evelyn stared at the ruined blueprints, then at the closed elevator doors where Nathaniel had disappeared. "No," she murmured. "But it's about to get interesting."

She grabbed her bag and coat, pausing only to toss the stained designs in the trash. As the elevator descended, her phone buzzed again—an unknown number. The message contained a single photo: Isabella and Sebastian laughing over cocktails, dated yesterday. The caption read: Some partnerships are meant to be.

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her phone. The game had changed. And this time, she wouldn't play by anyone else's rules.

Nathaniel's brows knitted together. His chiseled features remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of disbelief.

Noticing his reaction, Gregory narrowed his gaze and spoke coolly, "Mr. Wilson, we have no need for these items you've brought. Now isn't the best time for visitors. Goodbye."

With that, he moved to shut the door, but Nathaniel instinctively wedged his foot against it and called out, "Evelyn, are you home?"

His voice carried clearly, cutting through the hum of the range hood in the kitchen. Evelyn paused, thinking she had imagined it—until she heard it again.

She stepped out to find Nathaniel blocking the door while Gregory attempted to close it. "What's going on?" she asked.

Gregory froze. Seizing the moment, Nathaniel pushed the door open wider.

"Evelyn," he murmured, "I heard you moved out. I was worried, so I picked up some of your favorite ingredients. Thought I'd cook for you."

Evelyn reached for the bags in his hands. "You didn’t have to. I already have everything I need."

"Doesn’t matter. Whether I bring them or not is up to me." He adjusted his grip. "It’s heavy. Let me carry it. Where’s the kitchen?"

She gestured, and Nathaniel strode past her, heading straight for the kitchen.

Gregory remained by the door, fingers tight around the knob, his displeasure palpable. "Evelyn, you're letting him walk right in—right in front of me."

"Gregory is my friend," she replied evenly. "You know that. I don’t turn friends away when they visit."

The air between them grew colder. Gregory said nothing, but the tension coiled around him like a storm.

Silence stretched uncomfortably.

"Evelyn, do you have a soup pot?" Nathaniel's voice floated from the kitchen.

She glanced at Gregory before hurrying after Nathaniel.

Watching her go, seeing her stand beside Nathaniel in the kitchen, something sharp twisted in Gregory’s chest. His usually composed face was pale from fever, his eyes bloodshot from restless nights.

The sight of Nathaniel’s easy smile and Evelyn’s responding laughter grated on him. Before he could stop himself, he slammed the front door shut and stalked into the kitchen.

Without a word, he seized Evelyn’s wrist and pulled her toward the bedroom.

She resisted instinctively, but his grip was unyielding. Only when the bedroom door closed behind them did he release her—only to press her against it, his expression unreadable. "Send him away. I don’t want him here."

His breath was hot against her ear, his voice low, almost pleading. His fingers tightened at her waist, preventing any escape.

Evelyn lifted her chin, meeting his gaze from mere inches away. "That’s incredibly rude."

"So you’d rather provoke me than be polite?"

She frowned, confused. "Gregory came as a friend to cook for me. You’re here too—what’s the problem?"

"Would you have let him in if I wasn’t?"

"If you weren’t here, I’d be at work by now."

"You’re impossible." His grip tightened. "Don’t forget, Evelyn—you’re still married."

His gaze burned into her, his fingers pressing just shy of painful. For a heartbeat, she wondered if he might actually crush her.