Chapter 182

The moment Nathaniel stepped into the room, Evelyn felt the air shift. His presence was magnetic, commanding attention without a single word. She had spent the entire morning preparing for this meeting, yet now, under his piercing gaze, her carefully rehearsed speech evaporated.

"Evelyn," he said, his voice low and smooth, like dark velvet. "You look stunning."

She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Flattery won’t get you out of this conversation."

She exhaled sharply. "I wasn’t trying to."

Nathaniel took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good. Because we need to talk about what happened last night."

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. The memory of their heated argument—words thrown like daggers, accusations that cut deep—flashed through her mind. She had stormed out, slamming the door behind her, leaving him standing alone in the dimly lit study.

"I thought we agreed to leave it in the past," she said carefully.

His jaw tightened. "Some things can’t be ignored, Evelyn. Not when they involve her."

Isabella.

The name hung between them like a storm cloud. Evelyn clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She had hoped they could move past this, but Nathaniel’s stubbornness was legendary.

"Fine," she snapped. "What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? That I regret standing up for myself?"

Nathaniel’s expression darkened. "I want you to understand why I did what I did."

Evelyn scoffed. "Oh, I understand perfectly. You chose her over me—again."

"That’s not true."

"Isn’t it?" She crossed her arms. "Then explain why you met with her behind my back."

A tense silence stretched between them. Outside, the distant hum of the city seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of their ragged breaths.

Finally, Nathaniel sighed. "It wasn’t what you think."

Evelyn arched a brow. "Then enlighten me."

Before he could respond, the door burst open.

"Mr. Martin!" Samuel Yates, Nathaniel’s secretary, rushed in, his face pale. "There’s been an incident at the construction site. The police are involved."

Nathaniel’s demeanor shifted instantly, his concern for Evelyn momentarily forgotten. "What happened?"

Samuel hesitated, glancing at Evelyn before answering. "There’s been an accident. Someone was hurt."

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. "Who?"

Samuel swallowed hard. "Gregory Wilson."

Her blood ran cold. Frank.

Without another word, she turned and ran.

Nathaniel called after her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Because if something had happened to Gregory, nothing else mattered.

Not their fight.

Not Isabella.

Nothing.

Nathaniel's gaze shifted away from Evelyn. He glanced at Isabella and said curtly, "No, let's go."

Isabella nodded, a faint smirk playing on her lips the moment Nathaniel turned away.

He escorted her to Wanda's private ward, where the older woman immediately brightened at the sight of him. "Nathaniel, thank you! This place is so luxurious—it must cost a fortune per night!" she gushed, clutching the silk sheets.

Isabella's expression darkened, shooting her mother a warning look, but Wanda was too absorbed in Nathaniel's presence to notice.

Worried he might take offense, Isabella quickly interjected, "Nathaniel, Mom doesn’t mean anything by it. She’s just grateful. She’s not very... refined with her words."

"Wanda, focus on recovering," Nathaniel cut in, his tone detached. "Modern medicine can handle your condition. Money isn’t an issue."

His dismissive response made Isabella tense, her fingers tightening around her purse strap.

Wanda, however, beamed even brighter. "Oh, Nathaniel, you’re too kind!" She hesitated before blurting out, "You and Isabella have been together for years now. When are you two planning for children?"

The air turned frigid.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, a frosty glint in his eyes. He remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Isabella held her breath, waiting.

Seconds stretched unbearably.

Finally, she forced a laugh. "Mom, stop. You’re exhausted—rest now. Nathaniel has work." She shot Wanda a sharp look before turning to him. "I’ll walk you out."

Wanda backtracked hastily. "Oh, Nathaniel, I didn’t mean to pressure you! I just worry about Isabella—"

"Rest well," Nathaniel interrupted coldly. Without another word, he strode out.

Isabella hurried after him, leaving Wanda flustered.

Meanwhile, Evelyn returned to Charlotte’s ward after settling the bills. Charlotte was awake, her face pale but alert.

"I’m so sorry for all this trouble," Charlotte murmured weakly. "You should sit. You’re running yourself ragged."

"How are you feeling?" Evelyn asked, smoothing Charlotte’s hair.

"Better. But starving."

Evelyn sighed. "What do you want to eat?"

"Everything?"

"Try again."

"...Soup?" Charlotte pouted, looking pitiful.

Evelyn handed her a glass of water and pills. "Stay put. I’ll get it."

"You’re the best, Evelyn! Love you!"

"Love me? Then stop poisoning yourself." Evelyn pinched Charlotte’s cheek lightly before grabbing her phone and heading out.

The hospital cafeteria was on the VIP floor. As Evelyn stepped off the elevator, she froze.

Isabella’s voice drifted down the hall, honeyed and pleading.

"Nathaniel, please don’t mind my mother. She’s just protective. In her eyes, you’re already my husband—that’s why she asked. Don’t be angry, okay?"

Evelyn’s grip on her phone tightened.