Chapter 183

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. "Ms. Mitchell, 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 rough morning," she remarked, gesturing to the chair opposite her.

Gregory exhaled sharply as he sat. "We have a problem. The investors for the Maldives project are pulling out."

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. "What? Why?"

"Rumors," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Someone’s been whispering that our designs are structurally unsound. It’s nonsense, but they’re spooked."

Her mind raced. This project was crucial—not just for her firm, but for her reputation. "Who would spread something like that?"

Gregory hesitated. "I don’t have proof, but… I heard Isabella Davis was seen having lunch with Jonathan Blake last week."

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her pen. Isabella. Nathaniel’s ex. The woman who had made it her mission to undermine Evelyn at every turn.

"This isn’t just business," Evelyn said quietly. "This is personal."

Gregory nodded grimly. "What do you want to do?"

Evelyn stood, her resolve hardening. "First, we counter the rumors. Get Dr. Harrison to review the blueprints and issue a statement. Then—" She paused, a cold smile forming. "I think it’s time I paid Isabella a visit."

Gregory raised a brow. "You sure that’s wise?"

"No," Evelyn admitted. "But I’m done playing nice."

As Gregory left, Evelyn’s phone buzzed. A message from Nathaniel:

Dinner tonight? I have something to tell you.

Her heart skipped. Something in his tone felt… off.

She typed back quickly. Of course. Everything okay?

His reply was delayed. Then: We’ll talk tonight.

Evelyn stared at the screen, unease curling in her chest. Whatever Nathaniel had to say, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be good.

And with Isabella stirring trouble, the timing couldn’t be worse.

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she watched the scene unfold before her. Isabella stood before Nathaniel, her delicate frame trembling, tears glistening in her doe-like eyes. The sterile white lights of the hospital corridor cast sharp shadows, making Nathaniel's chiseled features appear even more unreadable.

He stood with one hand casually tucked into his pocket, his gaze steady as it lingered on Isabella. When he finally spoke, his voice was cool, detached. "I don't care what she says. But you know exactly where we stand, Isabella."

The words struck Evelyn like a physical blow. She froze, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

Isabella's lips quivered. "Nathaniel, you promised me. You said you would marry me. Are you taking it back now?"

Nathaniel exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "Is this really the time?"

"I need to know!" Isabella's voice cracked. "Is it because of Evelyn? Tell me the truth—do you love her?"

Evelyn's pulse roared in her ears. She shouldn’t be listening, yet she couldn’t move.

Nathaniel’s expression darkened. "This has nothing to do with her."

"Liar!" Isabella’s voice rose, desperation lacing every word. "You’re only staying with her because of the baby, aren’t you? Once she gives you an heir, you’ll leave her. That’s the plan, isn’t it?"

Silence.

Evelyn’s stomach twisted. The lack of denial was answer enough.

A bitter laugh threatened to escape her lips. So that was it. She was nothing more than a means to an end—a vessel for the Martin heir.

Isabella’s tear-filled eyes searched Nathaniel’s face, but he remained impassive.

Then, the elevator dinged, shattering the tension.

"Excuse me, where’s the cafeteria?" A nurse’s voice cut through the stillness.

Nathaniel and Isabella stepped apart, their gazes flickering toward Evelyn, who stood motionless.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Evelyn snapped back to reality. Without a word, she turned and stabbed the elevator button, her movements sharp, mechanical. The doors slid open instantly, and she stepped inside, pressing the button for Charlotte’s floor with numb fingers.

As the doors closed, she finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

Her reflection in the polished metal stared back at her—hollow-eyed, lips pressed into a thin line.

So this is what it feels like to be disposable.