Chapter 193

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting delicate patterns across the hardwood floor. Evelyn stretched beneath the silk sheets, her fingers brushing against the cold, empty space beside her. Nathaniel had already left for work—again.

She sighed, running a hand through her tousled auburn hair. The digital clock on the nightstand blinked 8:47 AM. Late. Again.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory.

"Evelyn, the client moved the meeting to 10. Don’t be late this time."

She groaned. The Kensington project was already behind schedule, and the clients were growing impatient. Throwing off the covers, she padded to the ensuite bathroom, the marble tiles cool beneath her bare feet.

The shower did little to wash away the exhaustion clinging to her. As she towel-dried her hair, her gaze caught the framed photo on the vanity—her and Nathaniel on their wedding day, his arms wrapped around her waist, both of them laughing under a shower of rose petals.

That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Dressed in a tailored navy pantsuit, Evelyn grabbed her portfolio and headed downstairs. Alfred, their butler, stood by the foyer, holding out her usual espresso.

"Good morning, Mrs. Martin. Your car is ready."

"Thanks, Alfred." She took the cup, the bitter warmth grounding her.

The drive to the office was a blur of cityscapes and honking cars. Her mind, however, was elsewhere—on Nathaniel’s increasingly distant behavior, on the whispered rumors about Isabella Davis’s return to the city, on the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number.

"We need to talk. It’s about Nathaniel."

Evelyn’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Who was this? And what did they know about her husband?

The light turned green. She accelerated, her pulse quickening.

Whatever this was, she wouldn’t ignore it.

Before Evelyn could speak, Nathaniel cut in, "Evelyn just came to give me a present."

His words caught her off guard. Was he explaining himself to Isabella?

Isabella merely gave him a fleeting glance, her expression unreadable. She stepped forward and handed Nathaniel a neatly wrapped box. "Happy birthday," she said flatly, offering no reaction to his earlier remark.

Nathaniel studied her for a moment before accepting the gift. Without hesitation, he unwrapped it.

Inside lay a sleek black wristwatch.

Though not from a luxury brand, its craftsmanship was impeccable.

Isabella’s sharp eyes caught the delicate engraving on the dial. "Is this… a Seraphina design?" she blurted, unable to hide her surprise.

Seraphina was a legendary watchmaker, notoriously selective about her commissions. Despite offers from elite brands, she had remained independent, building her own empire.

Nathaniel’s gaze softened as he traced the signature with his thumb. He looked up at Evelyn. "Did Seraphina make this?"

Evelyn shrugged. "A friend of mine knows her."

Her tone was indifferent, as if it were nothing significant.

But Nathaniel knew better.

Seraphina didn’t take requests lightly. For Evelyn to secure a custom piece meant she had gone to great lengths.

This watch was one of a kind.

Nathaniel’s eyes warmed as they lingered on Evelyn, the space between them charged with unspoken understanding. Isabella, standing forgotten, clenched her fists.

She forced a smile. "Evelyn, you know Seraphina? That’s… surprising. Even industry insiders struggle to get an audience with her. Unless your friend is very close to her?"

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. He shot Isabella a warning look.

But she pressed on, feigning concern. "I’m just thinking—what if it’s a replica? Nathaniel can’t risk wearing a counterfeit at formal events."

Evelyn arched a brow. "Are you implying this is fake?"

"I never said that," Isabella countered smoothly. "But you do seem defensive."

"Funny. Weren’t you the one who gifted Edward a forged painting last year?"

The memory struck like a whip. Isabella paled. That scandal had humiliated her in front of high society.

Her lips trembled as she turned to Nathaniel. "You know I didn’t mean to—"

"Ms. Davis," Evelyn interrupted coolly, "if crying is your only rebuttal, maybe you should leave."

Tears welled in Isabella’s eyes. "Nathaniel, are you really going to let her treat me like this?"

"Did I lie?" Evelyn scoffed. "If the truth offends you, then everyone must be ‘bullying’ you."

Nathaniel exhaled sharply. "Enough," he said, his voice low but firm.

His neutrality stung. Evelyn’s expression frosted over.

Isabella dabbed at her tears, a smug glint flashing in her eyes. "It’s fine," she murmured. "For your sake, Nathaniel, I’ll let it go."

Evelyn said nothing, her gaze locked onto Nathaniel with icy detachment.

Then, without looking at Isabella, he said, "Go inside."