Chapter 202

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. Her fingers hovered over the latest blueprints for the Martin Group's coastal resort project, but her mind was elsewhere. Nathaniel had been distant lately—ever since that unexpected phone call from Isabella last week.

A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she called, straightening her posture.

Gabrielle, her assistant, stepped inside with a tablet in hand. "Ms. Mitchell, Mr. Wilson is here to see you. He says it's urgent."

Evelyn frowned. Gregory never visited unannounced unless something was wrong. "Send him in."

Gregory strode into the room, his usual composed demeanor replaced by visible tension. "We have a problem," he said without preamble, dropping a folder onto her desk. "Summit Realty just filed a lawsuit against us. They're claiming intellectual property theft on the resort designs."

Her breath hitched. "That's impossible. Those are our original designs."

"According to their legal team, Sebastian Wilson has documents proving otherwise." Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "They're demanding an immediate halt to construction and seeking damages."

Evelyn's pulse raced. This couldn't be happening—not when they were so close to securing the final approval from Edward Martin. She reached for her phone. "I need to call Nathaniel."

Gregory caught her wrist. "Wait. There's more." He lowered his voice. "I did some digging. The documents Summit submitted? They're dated before we even started this project. Someone leaked our preliminary drafts."

Ice flooded her veins. "Who would—" The answer struck her before she could finish. Isabella. It had to be. She'd been Nathaniel's first love, and she'd made no secret of her resentment toward Evelyn. But sabotaging a multi-million-dollar project? That was a new low.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. She answered cautiously. "Hello?"

"Evelyn Mitchell?" A smooth, unfamiliar male voice greeted her. "This is Donovan Sinclair. I believe we have mutual interests regarding a certain... predicament you've found yourself in."

Her grip tightened on the phone. "How do you know about that?"

A low chuckle. "Let's just say Sebastian Wilson isn't as careful with his secrets as he should be. Meet me at The Velvet Hour tonight—nine sharp. Come alone." The line went dead.

Gregory raised an eyebrow. "Trouble?"

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "Or a lifeline." She stood, grabbing her blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to see Nathaniel before this spirals further."

As she hurried toward the elevator, her mind raced with possibilities. Was Donovan connected to Isabella? Or was this another player entering the game? One thing was certain—the stakes had just gotten dangerously high.

"Not yet. Mr. Martin only had me prepare it last night, so—"

"Bring it to me. I'm at the office," Evelyn cut Samuel off sharply.

She assumed it was the same document she had previously sent to Martin Group. If so, she had already signed it—Nathaniel only needed to add his signature.

But since he had redrafted it, signing again wouldn’t matter.

After hanging up, Evelyn sat motionless at her desk, her hands drifting to her abdomen. A whisper escaped her lips. "Sweetheart, it’s just you and me now. Mommy and Daddy… we’re done."

The moment Samuel received her response, he called Nathaniel.

"Well?" Nathaniel’s voice was ice.

"Mrs. Martin said to bring it to her company."

"Then do it."

Nathaniel’s tone was clipped, his expression unreadable. His mind burned with Evelyn’s face—her defiance, her stubbornness. The more he thought, the tighter his chest constricted.

"Once she signs," he continued, voice devoid of warmth, "cut all ties with Mitchell Group. I don’t want a single project, a single transaction left between us."

Samuel hesitated. "Sir, with all due respect—some of our joint ventures are in their final stages. Terminating abruptly could trigger backlash. Shouldn’t we at least wait until—"

"I’m not asking for your opinion," Nathaniel snapped. "I’m giving you an order."

There was no room for negotiation.

Samuel exhaled. "Understood."

The call ended. Nathaniel’s jaw clenched.

This was simple. Either she surrendered—or she faced the consequences.

Thirty minutes later, Samuel arrived at Evelyn’s office.

She skimmed the divorce agreement with detached indifference. The terms barely differed from her original draft—no demands, no disputes. She wanted nothing from the Martins.

Pen in hand, she signed without hesitation. Then she met Samuel’s gaze. "Let me know when he’s free to finalize the paperwork."

Samuel nodded, though something flickered in his eyes. He debated speaking—but held back.

Evelyn noticed. "Something else?"

He forced a polite smile. "Mrs. Martin… are you certain about this?"

Her brows furrowed. For a fleeting second, she wondered if Nathaniel had sent him to ask.

But no.

The papers were here. This was over.

Their marriage was always meant to end.