Chapter 161

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom. Evelyn stirred, blinking against the light as she turned to find Nathaniel already awake, his piercing gaze fixed on her.

"You're up early," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

Nathaniel's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Couldn't sleep." His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, lingering against her cheek. "You were talking in your sleep again."

Evelyn frowned, sitting up. "What did I say?"

"Something about blueprints and deadlines." His chuckle was low, warm. "Even in your dreams, you're working."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Well, someone has to keep this household running."

His expression darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "Speaking of work," he began, his tone shifting, "I need to talk to you about something."

Evelyn's stomach tightened. That tone never meant anything good. "What is it?"

Nathaniel exhaled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Edward called last night. He wants to meet."

Her breath hitched. Edward Martin—Nathaniel's grandfather—was a force to be reckoned with. Every encounter with him was like stepping onto a battlefield. "When?"

"Today."

Evelyn's fingers clenched around the sheets. "And you're just telling me now?"

"I didn't want to ruin your evening," he admitted, his gaze dropping.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. "What does he want?"

Nathaniel hesitated, then met her eyes. "He didn't say. But it's never just a friendly chat."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Alfred's voice came through, polite but firm. "Mr. Martin, your car is ready."

Nathaniel sighed, pressing a quick kiss to Evelyn's forehead. "We'll figure it out."

As he left, Evelyn sat frozen, her mind racing. Whatever Edward wanted, it wouldn't be good. And she had a sinking feeling their fragile peace was about to shatter.

Downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Rosalind, their new chef, bustled about the kitchen, humming softly. Evelyn barely registered it.

Her phone buzzed—a message from Gregory. "Emergency meeting at the office. Need you here ASAP."

Evelyn groaned. Of course. Because today wasn't complicated enough already.

She grabbed her bag, her thoughts a whirlwind of deadlines, meetings, and whatever storm Edward was about to unleash.

One thing was certain—today was going to be hell.

Their gazes locked for a fleeting moment—Nathaniel's expression was unreadable, his features schooled into perfect neutrality. Then, without a word, he turned his attention to William. "What's the meaning of this?"

William scrambled forward, gesturing toward the plush armchair with exaggerated deference. "Nathaniel, we truly appreciate you coming on such short notice. Please, have a seat." He poured coffee with practiced ease, the steam curling between them.

Nathaniel didn’t move. "Get to the point."

William cleared his throat. "Right. Well, we thought it best if Evelyn apologized to you. Given the... silence from your end, we assumed she must have done something to upset you."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Nathaniel’s eyes flicked to Evelyn, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. The weight of it made her parents shift uncomfortably, their conviction in her guilt solidifying.

Margaret rushed to Evelyn’s side, nudging her forward. "Darling, just say you're sorry. You’re married—these little disagreements happen. A simple apology will fix everything."

Evelyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. She looked at her parents, the cold realization settling in her chest like ice.

These were the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally.

Her voice was steel. "And what, exactly, am I apologizing for?"

"It doesn’t matter what you did!" William snapped. "Just apologize and be done with it!"

Evelyn’s gaze flicked to Nathaniel, seated like a king on their sofa, his presence commanding the room. The humiliation burned, but she refused to bend.

She lifted her chin. "No. I won’t apologize when I’ve done nothing wrong."

"Evelyn!" William’s face darkened. "Is this how we raised you? You’ve always been so stubborn—no wonder Nathaniel wants a divorce! Apologize now!"

"Enough." Nathaniel’s voice cut through the room like a blade. His eyes were glacial as they locked onto William. "Did you summon me here just to force my wife into an apology?"

William faltered. "I—well, with all the rumors about your divorce, I thought perhaps Evelyn had—"

"You’d believe gossip over your own daughter?" Nathaniel’s tone dripped with disdain. "You’re her parents. Shouldn’t you be standing by her instead of throwing her to the wolves?" His lips curled. "Frankly, I’m starting to question if she’s even yours."

The words landed like a slap.

Nathaniel’s expression was unyielding, his gaze locked onto Evelyn’s with something she hadn’t expected—protection.

Margaret recovered first, forcing a laugh. "Oh, Nathaniel, you’re absolutely right. We were just worried, that’s all." She turned to Evelyn, her smile brittle. "Sweetheart, we didn’t mean to upset you. You know we only want what’s best for you."

Evelyn barely heard her.

Nathaniel’s voice was low, deliberate. "Evelyn is my wife. She doesn’t bow to anyone—not even you." His eyes never left hers as he added, "And as long as she bears my name, no one will disrespect her."

Margaret’s smile tightened. "Of course, of course. We’re so lucky to have you as her husband."

Evelyn exhaled slowly, the weight on her chest lifting just a fraction.

Nathaniel had just drawn a line in the sand—and for once, it was for her, not against her.