Chapter 209

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. She tapped her pencil absently against the blueprint, her mind elsewhere. The tension between her and Nathaniel had been palpable since their argument last night.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Evelyn?" Gabrielle poked her head in, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "Thought you could use this. You've been staring at that same page for twenty minutes."

Evelyn accepted the cup with a grateful smile. "Thanks. Just... distracted."

Gabrielle hesitated before speaking. "Mr. Wilson called earlier. He said the Summit Realty project needs your final approval by noon."

Evelyn's grip tightened around the cup. Sebastian Wilson had been relentless about pushing deadlines lately. "Tell him I'll have it ready."

As Gabrielle left, Evelyn's phone buzzed. Nathaniel's name flashed on the screen. Her thumb hovered over the answer button before she let it go to voicemail. She wasn't ready to talk yet - not when every conversation lately turned into another battle about Isabella.

The intercom crackled. "Evelyn? Your mother is on line two."

Evelyn sighed. Margaret Mitchell only called during work hours for one reason. "Put her through."

"Darling," Margaret's crisp voice came through the receiver. "We need to discuss the gala next week. The Martin family expects—"

"I know what they expect, Mother," Evelyn interrupted, rubbing her temple. "I'll be there. In the dress you picked. With Nathaniel. Just like every other year."

A pause. "Is everything alright?"

Evelyn glanced at the framed photo on her desk - her and Nathaniel laughing at their engagement party. "Just work stress. I'll see you Saturday."

She hung up before her mother could pry further. The clock ticked toward noon. Evelyn turned back to her blueprints, determined to lose herself in work. But the numbers blurred together, replaced by Nathaniel's hurt expression when she'd walked out of their bedroom last night.

A sudden commotion outside her office made her look up. Through the glass walls, she saw Gregory Wilson storming toward her door, Samuel Yates trailing nervously behind him.

"Evelyn!" Gregory threw open the door without knocking. "What's this I hear about you rejecting the Summit revisions?"

Evelyn stood slowly, squaring her shoulders. "Because they violate three building codes and would put residents at risk. I won't approve unsafe designs, Gregory."

Gregory's face turned red. "Sebastian is our biggest client! Do you know what this could—"

The office phone rang sharply. Gabrielle's voice came through, strained. "Evelyn? It's Mr. Martin. He says it's urgent."

Evelyn's stomach dropped. Nathaniel never called her at work. She reached for the phone, but Gregory slammed his hand down on the receiver.

"This conversation isn't over," he hissed.

Evelyn met his glare without flinching. "Get out of my office. Now."

As Gregory retreated, muttering threats, Evelyn grabbed the phone. "Nathaniel? What's wrong?"

His voice was uncharacteristically tense. "It's Grandfather. He's had another stroke. They're taking him to St. Mary's. I'm on my way now."

The blueprint slipped from Evelyn's fingers. "I'll meet you there."

She hung up and reached for her bag, her earlier anger forgotten. Whatever stood between her and Nathaniel, Edward Martin's crisis took precedence. As she rushed toward the elevator, her phone buzzed again - an unknown number.

The text message contained just four words: "He still loves me." Attached was a photo of Isabella Davis smiling next to a hospital sign for the neurology wing.

Evelyn's steps faltered. The elevator doors opened. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, the battle lines of her personal and professional wars converging at St. Mary's Hospital.

Evelyn understood Beatrice's worries. She pressed her lips together before speaking gently, "Beatrice, I'm expecting—over three months along now. I'll need your help with the baby once they arrive, so please take care of yourself, alright?"

When Beatrice learned of Evelyn's pregnancy, her eyes lit up. She grasped Evelyn's hands tightly, nodding eagerly. "Of course, my dear!"

Beatrice's sudden willingness to cooperate stemmed entirely from the news of Evelyn's pregnancy.

Evelyn planned to let Beatrice rest for a few days to regain her strength before scheduling a full medical check-up. Given Beatrice's age, she had the usual elderly ailments—heart disease, high blood pressure, and a host of other minor health concerns that required careful attention.

The Mitchells had caught wind of Evelyn moving Beatrice to Mayby and had tried reaching out repeatedly. But Evelyn had been avoiding their calls without fail.

After settling Beatrice in, Evelyn returned to her apartment across the street. The moment she stepped inside, she spotted Charlotte curled up on the sofa, knees hugged to her chest, lost in thought. "What's wrong?" Evelyn asked.

She had been so preoccupied with Beatrice that she hadn’t noticed how unusually quiet Charlotte had been.

Charlotte’s expression tightened. "I have to go back to Dattlech."

"So soon?" Evelyn frowned. "Is it because I haven’t been able to spend time with you these past few days?"

"No. Something came up. I have to leave."

Charlotte shook her head, her usual vivacity replaced by exhaustion.

Evelyn studied her. "What happened?"

For a long moment, Charlotte just stared at her, face unreadable. Then, softly, she asked, "Evelyn... do you know who the man I left was?"

"Who?" Evelyn had never pried before. They had always respected each other’s privacy.

"Someone you know," Charlotte said.

Evelyn’s brows knitted together. She hesitated before voicing a name. "Thomas?"

Charlotte’s silence was confirmation enough.

Evelyn blinked in surprise. "It’s really him?"

"Yes. But I lied to you. It wasn’t me who left him. He’s getting engaged. I didn’t want to be the other woman, so I walked away."

Evelyn had only heard fragments about Thomas’s situation, never the full story.

Now, watching Charlotte’s reaction, she couldn’t help but ask, "So... he found out you came to Mayby?"

Charlotte exhaled sharply. "Yes. Somehow, he got my number. He knows I’ve been staying with you. That’s why I have to go back, Evelyn. I’ve already booked my flight."

"When?"

"In two hours."

A beat of silence passed before Evelyn nodded. "Then let’s go. I’ll drive you. Don’t worry about packing—I’ll send your things later."

Charlotte agreed, and within minutes, they were on their way to the airport.

Time was slipping away too quickly.

At the security checkpoint, Evelyn watched Charlotte disappear into the crowd. Just before boarding, she received a text:

"I’ll call when I land."

Charlotte’s flight was supposed to arrive in Dattlech by ten that night. Evelyn waited, planning to call her then—but the phone went straight to voicemail.

At first, she assumed the flight had been delayed or Charlotte’s phone had died. But by midnight, there was still no response.

A knot of unease twisted in Evelyn’s stomach.

If Thomas was involved...

Confronting him in the middle of the night wasn’t an option. After a moment’s hesitation, Evelyn got into her car and drove to Pineview Villa.

She hadn’t been back since moving out. Standing before the familiar gates, something tight coiled in her chest.

Her fingerprint still worked. The door clicked open.