Chapter 140

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

Evelyn straightened, smoothing her blouse. "Send him in."

Gregory Wilson strode in, his usual confident demeanor slightly off. His tie was loosened, and there was a tension in his jaw she hadn’t seen before.

"You look like you’ve had a morning," she remarked, gesturing for him to sit.

He exhaled sharply. "You could say that. Summit Realty just pulled out of the Montclair deal."

Evelyn’s pen stilled. "What? That was our biggest contract this quarter."

"Sebastian Wilson claims budget cuts," Gregory said, rubbing his temples. "But I heard through the grapevine that they’re shifting focus to Isabella Davis’s new development."

Evelyn’s stomach twisted. Isabella—Nathaniel’s ex, the woman who had once tried to sabotage her marriage. Now she was encroaching on her professional life too?

She forced a calm tone. "We’ll find another investor. The Montclair project is too good to abandon."

Gregory hesitated. "There’s more. Nathaniel’s grandfather called an emergency board meeting. Rumor has it, he’s reconsidering Nathaniel’s position as heir."

Evelyn’s breath hitched. "Why?"

"Something about ‘instability’ in his personal life." Gregory’s gaze flickered to her left hand—her wedding ring gleaming under the light.

A cold realization settled over her. This wasn’t just about business. Someone was playing a deeper game, and she and Nathaniel were the pawns.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Nathaniel: We need to talk. Tonight.

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around the device. Whatever was coming, they’d face it together. But first, she had a few calls to make.

"Gabrielle," she called out, her voice steady. "Get me Jonathan Blake on the line. And cancel my afternoon meetings."

If Isabella wanted a war, Evelyn would make sure she was ready.

What truly haunted her were the specifics.

Even knowing she would agonize and blame herself, he went through with it. He'd rather endure the fever without medication, just to twist the knife of guilt deeper into her heart.

Evelyn pressed on, bringing it up again. "Nathaniel, divorce would be the best solution for both of us. You can marry Isabella, and I can finally have my freedom."

"Are you doing this for my sake? Should I be grateful?" Nathaniel scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Evelyn met his gaze evenly. "No gratitude necessary. It's a practical decision."

His eyes darkened. "If you think I'll marry Isabella after this, then what about you? Who’s waiting for you—Gregory? Or Samuel?"

"Why does divorce have to end in marriage? I’m perfectly content alone," she shot back.

Nathaniel’s lips curled into a mocking smile. "So you’re dead set on this?"

"Yes."

"Prove it, then. Give me a reason to agree," he challenged before turning sharply and striding toward the door.

A heartbeat later, the slam of the door reverberated through the room, leaving behind a suffocating silence.

Evelyn remained frozen. This was what she wanted—what she needed—to secure her child’s future.

Yet, beneath the resolve, an oppressive weight settled in her chest, making each breath a struggle. A dull ache pulsed where her heart should have been numb.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, forcing the emotions down until they were locked away.

Then, mechanically, she cleared the dining table, changed into fresh clothes, and left for the office.

Thanks to Nathaniel, she was two days behind. While Gregory had kept things running, relying on him indefinitely wasn’t an option.

The moment she stepped into her office, she dove into reviewing project updates. It wasn’t long before Gregory knocked.

"Evelyn, the Mitchell Group just called. They’re pulling out of the collaboration due to our delayed response," he informed her.

She had nearly forgotten—not that she ever intended to work with them.

"Let them go," she said flatly.

Gregory hesitated. "Since your marriage to Nathaniel went public, they have other options." His gaze lingered, searching for a reaction.

Evelyn barely glanced up. "I never wanted it public. But what’s done is done." Her voice was hollow, her smile brittle.

His brow furrowed. "You don’t have to live like this. Not if he doesn’t love you."

"Gregory." Her tone turned icy, her posture rigid. "I’m aware. You don’t need to remind me."

Realizing his misstep, he backtracked. "Evelyn, I didn’t mean—I just hate seeing you like this."

"I know. You can go. I have work to do." She dismissed him without looking up.

With no choice, he left, shutting the door softly behind him.

Alone, Evelyn exhaled, a flicker of self-loathing crossing her face.

Gregory wasn’t wrong. But facing the truth was another matter entirely.

After a beat, she opened her laptop and typed two words:

Divorce Agreement.