Chapter 21

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 confrontation with Nathaniel last night still weighed heavily on her.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Evelyn?" Gabrielle poked her head in, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "Thought you could use this."

"Thanks." Evelyn accepted the cup, savoring the rich aroma. "Any updates on the Montgomery project?"

Gabrielle hesitated. "Actually, Mr. Wilson wants to see you in his office. He said it's urgent."

Evelyn's stomach tightened. Gregory never summoned her without reason. Setting down her coffee, she smoothed her blouse and headed down the hall.

Gregory's office door stood ajar. Inside, he was pacing behind his desk, his usually composed features drawn tight. When he saw Evelyn, he gestured for her to sit. "We have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Evelyn perched on the edge of the chair.

"The Martin Group just pulled out of our joint venture." Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "No explanation, just a termination notice."

Evelyn's breath caught. Nathaniel's doing, no doubt. Was this retaliation for last night? She clenched her fists in her lap. "I'll handle it."

"Handle it how?" Gregory's voice rose. "This was our biggest contract, Evelyn. Without it—"

"I said I'll handle it." Evelyn stood abruptly. "Give me twenty-four hours."

Outside, the midday sun glared down mercilessly. Evelyn barely noticed as she hailed a cab. "Martin Group headquarters," she told the driver. Her phone buzzed—a text from Charlotte: Heard what happened. You okay?

Evelyn typed a quick reply: Fine. Handling it.

The sleek glass tower of Martin Group loomed ahead. Evelyn marched through the revolving doors, ignoring the curious glances from the reception staff. "I need to see Nathaniel Martin. Now."

The receptionist blinked. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No." Evelyn leaned forward, her voice low. "Tell him Evelyn Mitchell is here. He'll see me."

Moments later, the elevator doors opened on the executive floor. Samuel Yates waited, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Martin is in a meeting."

Evelyn brushed past him. "Then I'll wait."

Nathaniel's office was empty, the large windows offering a panoramic view of the city. Evelyn paced, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The door opened, and Nathaniel stepped in, his tailored suit immaculate as always.

His gaze locked onto hers. "I was wondering how long it would take you to come."

"Cut the games, Nathaniel." Evelyn crossed her arms. "Why did you terminate our contract?"

Nathaniel moved to his desk, pouring himself a drink. "Business decision."

"Bullshit." Evelyn's voice shook. "This is about last night."

Nathaniel took a slow sip of whiskey. "Maybe I just don't trust your firm anymore."

Evelyn's nails dug into her palms. "You're jeopardizing dozens of jobs over a personal vendetta."

Nathaniel set his glass down with a sharp click. "And what about you, Evelyn? Wasn't keeping secrets from me personal?"

The air between them crackled with tension. Evelyn opened her mouth to retort when Nathaniel's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening. "We'll continue this later."

Evelyn caught his arm as he turned to leave. "No. We finish this now."

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "It's Isabella. She's at the hospital."

The blood drained from Evelyn's face. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Nathaniel pulled free. "But I'm going to find out."

As he strode out, Evelyn stood frozen. The pieces clicked into place—Isabella's sudden reappearance, Nathaniel's distance, and now this. She reached for her phone, dialing Caroline. "I need a favor."

"Alright, take care of that. What about the other firm?" Evelyn asked, rubbing her temples.

"I looked into it. Their CEO, Mr. Sinclair, has a terrible reputation in the industry. They've been operating at a loss for years, massive layoffs... Barely surviving," Gregory replied, scrolling through his tablet.

She exhaled sharply.

Gregory hesitated before asking, "Should we confront them head-on?"

"It's useless right now."

But whether it was futile or not, they had to push forward.

An hour later, they meticulously compared the color schemes and uploaded both the plagiarized and original designs to a design forum. A handful of professionals noticed the discrepancies and voiced their support, but the majority dismissed them as trying to deflect blame.

By afternoon, strangers loitered outside the office, harassing employees trying to enter or leave. The situation was escalating dangerously.

Evelyn had no choice—she dialed Donovan Sinclair herself.

When he answered, she didn’t waste time. "Mr. Sinclair, we’re all just trying to make a living. Isn’t this going too far?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t throw around accusations without proof. I could sue you for slander," Donovan snapped.

Evelyn’s pulse pounded in her ears. "Mr. Sinclair, does your company actually have evidence that we stole anything? Accusing us publicly with nothing but a few images? That’s defamation, isn’t it?"

"Listen here, sweetheart. Watch your tone. If your work is legit, you shouldn’t be afraid of a little competition. Disagree? Prove your innocence. Otherwise, apologize and get out of the business—or face the consequences."

The line went dead before she could respond.

Evelyn clenched her fists. He was twisting everything!

She inhaled deeply, forcing down the fury bubbling inside her.

A year ago, she would’ve exploded.

But now, she had to stay composed.

Turning to Gregory, she said, "We might need to close the office for a few days. I don’t want anyone getting hurt."

"I was thinking the same," Gregory agreed. "Emily’s already informing everyone."

Emily was Gregory’s assistant.

Evelyn nodded, exhaustion weighing on her features.

Gregory frowned. "Are you okay? You look pale."

"I’m fine."

"Evelyn, you can talk to me. I’m here for you."

"I know," she murmured.

Just then, Emily rushed in, breathless.

"Mr. Wilson, Ms. Mitchell—there’s trouble outside!"

They hurried out, but Evelyn swayed, nearly stumbling. Gregory caught her arm. "Evelyn, seriously, are you alright?"

"I’m fine. Let’s see what’s happening."

Outside, the company’s entrance was vandalized—"THIEVES" scrawled in red paint across the glass.

Trash littered the ground, reeking of rotten food.

Their office was in a sleek high-rise, surrounded by young professionals. Gossip spread fast, and a crowd had already gathered.

Evelyn’s head throbbed. She turned away, retreating to her office.

Gregory followed, concern etched on his face. "You need rest. Let me take you home. I’ll handle this mess, and I’ll meet Donovan tonight. Maybe we can negotiate a way out."

Evelyn didn’t argue. She felt awful—dizzy, nauseous, her heart racing. Between the stress and worrying about Edward, she needed to rest—not just for herself, but for the baby.

By the time she returned to Pineview Villa, it was evening.

She texted Victoria for an update on Edward. Still unconscious, but stable.

Victoria assured her not to come—Richard would be there that night.

Evelyn didn’t push. She checked the time—Nathaniel wasn’t home yet.

After a long hesitation, she called him.

If it were just her and Gregory, she’d tough it out. But her employees—people who’d trusted her—were suffering. She owed them a solution.

Afraid she’d lose her nerve, she cut straight to the point when he answered.

"Nathaniel, I need your help. My company’s in trouble. Can you step in?"