Chapter 138

The moment Nathaniel stepped into the grand hall of the Martin estate, the air shifted. His presence commanded attention, his sharp gaze scanning the room with practiced ease. Evelyn stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the glass. She could feel the weight of his stare before she even turned around.

"Evelyn," Nathaniel said, his voice low and steady.

She turned, meeting his eyes. "Nathaniel."

The tension between them was palpable, a silent battle of wills. The last time they had spoken, words had been exchanged—harsh, unforgiving. Now, standing in the opulent hall, surrounded by the echoes of their shared history, neither seemed willing to break the silence first.

Isabella's sudden appearance shattered the moment. She strode in, her heels clicking against the marble floor, a smirk playing on her lips. "Am I interrupting something?"

Evelyn clenched her jaw but forced a polite smile. "Not at all."

Nathaniel's expression darkened. "What are you doing here, Isabella?"

Isabella feigned innocence, twirling a strand of her perfectly styled hair. "Just paying a visit to dear old Edward. You know how fond he is of me."

Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Isabella had always been skilled at inserting herself where she wasn’t wanted.

Before the conversation could spiral further, Alfred, the butler, appeared. "Mr. Martin requests your presence in the study," he announced, his tone neutral.

Nathaniel gave a curt nod. "We’ll be right there."

As Alfred retreated, Isabella leaned in, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Don’t worry, Evelyn. I’ll make sure Nathaniel doesn’t forget about you."

Evelyn’s patience snapped. "Isabella, if you have something to say, say it plainly. Otherwise, spare us the theatrics."

Isabella’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "You always did think you were better than everyone else."

Nathaniel stepped between them, his voice cutting through the tension. "Enough. We have more important matters to attend to."

Evelyn exhaled sharply, turning on her heel. She didn’t wait for Nathaniel or Isabella to follow as she made her way toward the study. The weight of the past few weeks pressed down on her, but she refused to let it show.

Inside the study, Edward Martin sat behind his imposing desk, his sharp eyes assessing them as they entered. "Good. You’re all here."

Evelyn folded her arms. "What’s this about?"

Edward steepled his fingers. "The Summit Realty deal. It’s time to make a decision."

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. "We’ve already discussed this."

Edward’s gaze flicked to Isabella, then back to Nathaniel. "Circumstances have changed."

Evelyn’s stomach twisted. She knew exactly what that meant. Isabella had somehow weaseled her way into the deal. Again.

Edward leaned forward. "The board wants assurances. Stability."

Nathaniel’s voice was ice. "And you think bringing Isabella into this provides stability?"

Edward’s expression remained unreadable. "I think it’s time to consider all options."

Evelyn’s nails dug into her palms. She had fought too hard to let Isabella undermine everything now.

But before she could speak, Nathaniel’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting. "I have to take this."

As he stepped out, Isabella smirked. "Looks like you’re losing your grip, Evelyn."

Evelyn met her gaze evenly. "We’ll see about that."

The door clicked shut behind Nathaniel, leaving Evelyn alone with Isabella and Edward. The game had just gotten more complicated.

And Evelyn was done playing nice.

Nathaniel's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief. "You're already annoyed with me when I haven't even done anything? What if I actually did something? Would you cry then?"

His words carried a suggestive undertone, and it took Evelyn a moment to catch his meaning. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

Instinctively, she pressed closer to his chest, though it did little to shield her from his teasing. She steadied her breathing, forcing her voice to remain calm. "What do you want?"

"I haven't done anything, and you refuse to kiss me. Am I not even allowed to stand here?" His low chuckle sent a shiver down her spine.

Evelyn finally understood.

He wasn’t threatening her with words—he was doing it with actions.

Taking a deep breath, she rose onto her toes and brushed her lips against his in a fleeting kiss. Her mouth was cool, barely grazing his before she tried to pull away.

But Nathaniel wasn’t having it.

The moment she initiated, warmth flooded his dark eyes. He seized control, deepening the kiss until her breath hitched.

It lasted far too long. By the time he finally released her, Evelyn was gasping for air.

Yet he didn’t let go. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his voice rough and thick with desire. "I'm hungry."

She knew exactly what he meant but feigned ignorance. "I can make you spaghetti."

"Evelyn," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "You know what I want."

"I don’t."

"You will."

Without another word, he scooped her up and carried her straight to the bedroom.

Evelyn didn’t resist. Memories of their last encounter flashed through her mind, and she knew she couldn’t use her cycle as an excuse again. Reluctantly, she gave in, silently praying he’d finish quickly.

But her thoughts were elsewhere—on the tiny life growing inside her.

Nathaniel noticed.

His grip tightened as he studied her face, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Do you hate it when I touch you?"

"No."

"Then why do you look so cold?"

"I’m just tired."

He scoffed, pinching her chin. "Tired from doing nothing?"

"I’ve been working a lot. That’s all."

"Just that?"

"Yeah."

She wasn’t sure if he believed her, but he loosened his hold.

By the time they finished, it was nearly midnight.

Exhausted, Evelyn curled onto her side, one hand instinctively cradling her stomach. Nathaniel draped the blanket over her and murmured, "Want me to carry you to the shower?"

"Not now."

He didn’t push it, heading to the bathroom alone.

The moment the water turned on, Evelyn reached for her phone. Her fingers flew over the screen as she messaged Caroline, her anxiety spilling into the brief text.

Caroline’s reply came swiftly—everything was fine.

Relief washed over her. She deleted the conversation and set the phone aside, too drained to stay awake any longer.

Sleep claimed her instantly, dreamless and deep.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows, rousing her early.

After a quick shower, she warmed milk and prepared breakfast—simple, light dishes. Once done, she returned to the bedroom.

She had work today and needed to bring the design sketches she’d been working on at home. Opening the bedside drawer, she pulled out her notebook.

A crumpled piece of paper slipped out with it.

Frowning, she picked it up, intending to toss it away—until her fingers brushed against something unusual.

She unfolded it.

And froze.

Her blood turned to ice as she read the words scrawled across the page.