Chapter 173

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. "Evelyn, Mr. Wilson is here to see you."

Evelyn looked up, surprised. Gregory rarely visited her office unless it was urgent. "Send him in."

Gregory strode in, his usual confident demeanor replaced by tension. He dropped a thick folder onto her desk. "We have a problem."

Evelyn flipped it open, scanning the contents. Her stomach twisted. "This can't be right. The permits were approved weeks ago."

"Not anymore," Gregory said grimly. "Summit Realty filed an injunction. They're claiming our design infringes on one of their previous projects."

Evelyn's mind raced. Summit Realty—Sebastian Wilson's company. She had heard rumors about his ruthless tactics, but this was a direct attack. "We need to act fast. If this delays construction, we'll lose the investors."

Gregory nodded. "I've already called our legal team. But Evelyn…" He hesitated. "There's more. Someone leaked internal emails between you and Nathaniel about the project. The press is spinning it as favoritism because of your marriage."

Evelyn's breath hitched. The media had always been relentless, but this was personal. She clenched her fists. "Find out who did this."

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

Evelyn exhaled sharply. The storm was just beginning.

Meanwhile, across town, Nathaniel stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, staring at the city skyline. His phone screen displayed the latest headline: Martin Group Heir's Wife Accused of Unethical Business Practices.

Samuel Yates cleared his throat. "Sir, the board is demanding an emergency meeting."

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Tell them I'll handle it."

But as he scrolled through the messages—some from furious shareholders, others from opportunistic rivals—he knew this wasn't just about business. Someone was targeting Evelyn. And he would tear the city apart to find out who.

His phone rang. Isabella's name flashed on the screen.

Nathaniel hesitated before answering. "What do you want?"

Isabella's voice was smooth, almost amused. "I think you and I should talk. About your wife… and the mess she's in."

The line went dead.

Nathaniel's grip on the phone turned white-knuckled.

The game had just gotten dangerous.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Evelyn and Charlotte rose early, freshened up quickly, and headed to the office together after a light breakfast.

The two women couldn’t have been more different in appearance and temperament.

Evelyn carried herself with quiet elegance—graceful, composed, and exuding an air of quiet strength beneath her polished exterior.

Charlotte, on the other hand, was all fiery charm—a vivacious beauty with a silver tongue, though beneath her confident facade lay a deeply sensitive soul.

Though it was Charlotte’s first visit to the company, she effortlessly struck up conversations with Gabrielle and the others, blending in as if she’d always belonged. The office buzzed with laughter, everyone instantly taken by her warmth. The only issue? She talked—a lot. Evelyn finally had to drag her into the office before she distracted the entire team from their work.

"Enough," Evelyn said, shutting the door behind them. "They have deadlines. If you keep chatting, they’ll be stuck here all night."

Charlotte smirked. "I was just helping them get to know you better."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

Charlotte tilted her head, mischief dancing in her eyes. Then, lowering her voice, she asked, "Where’s Gregory? Did he hear I was coming and run for the hills?"

"Maybe you’re just that terrifying?"

"Evelyn!" Charlotte shot her a mock glare. "If I were scary, you’d be the first one I’d haunt."

"Terrifying," Evelyn deadpanned, just as a knock sounded at the door.

Gregory stepped in, carrying a basket of fresh fruit. "Evelyn," he said warmly, "I heard your friend was visiting. I assumed it was Charlotte. Thought I’d bring something for you both. How about lunch later? My treat."

His tone was kind, but Charlotte’s expression stiffened the moment he entered. Her earlier playfulness vanished, replaced by something unreadable.

Gregory faltered slightly at her reaction but maintained his polite smile.

Evelyn quickly intervened. "Thanks, Gregory. Charlotte just got in last night. Let her settle in first. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up later."

"Of course." He set the fruit on the desk with a nod.

As soon as the door closed, Charlotte turned to Evelyn, her voice dropping to a whisper. "So, back to what we were discussing—your post-divorce love life. What’s your type now? Someone young and reckless, or a refined older man?"

Evelyn’s brows knit. "Alright, enjoy the fruit. I have work to do."

She turned to Gregory, shifting the subject. "Any updates from Summit Realty?"

"Not yet. But I’m sure they’ve considered our proposal."

"Regardless, we need to be prepared. This mess started because of me. If they push for accountability, we can’t refuse. But don’t worry—if it comes to that, I’ll handle the compensation personally."

Gregory’s expression darkened. "Evelyn, do you really think I’m only here for the good times? That I can’t stand by you when things go wrong?"

His usual calm demeanor cracked, revealing rare frustration.

Evelyn met his gaze evenly. "That’s not what I meant. I just prefer to be upfront about these things. It’s how I operate."

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then Charlotte spoke, her tone light but edged with something sharper. "Mr. Wilson, Evelyn’s just being practical. You two are friends, after all. She doesn’t want to owe you anything she can’t repay." She paused, tilting her head. "Unless you’re expecting something else in return?"

"Charlotte," Evelyn warned under her breath.

Gregory’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, the office phone rang, cutting through the tension like a blade.