Chapter 216

The moment Nathaniel stepped into the grand hall of the Martin estate, the air shifted. His presence commanded attention, his sharp gaze scanning the room before landing on Evelyn. She stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the golden afternoon light casting a soft glow around her.

"You're late," she remarked without turning, her voice cool but laced with something unspoken.

Nathaniel exhaled, loosening his tie. "Traffic."

Evelyn finally turned, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Traffic? Or another meeting with her?"

The tension between them crackled like static. Nathaniel clenched his jaw, his patience thinning. "Isabella was at the office. It was business."

"Business," Evelyn repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism. She crossed her arms, the diamond on her finger catching the light—a stark reminder of the vows they had taken. "Funny how your business always seems to involve her."

Nathaniel took a step forward, his voice lowering. "Evelyn, we’ve been over this. There’s nothing between us anymore."

"Then why does it feel like she’s still in our marriage?" Evelyn shot back, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

Before Nathaniel could respond, the door swung open, and Alfred, their butler, cleared his throat. "Mr. Martin, your grandfather requests your presence in the study."

Nathaniel hesitated, his eyes locked with Evelyn’s. "We’re not done here."

Evelyn lifted her chin. "No, we’re not."

As Nathaniel strode out, Evelyn turned back to the window, her reflection betraying the turmoil inside. She had known marrying into the Martin family wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t anticipated the ghosts of Nathaniel’s past haunting them at every turn.

Her phone buzzed—a message from Gregory. "The client approved the final design. We’re moving forward."

A small victory, but one that felt hollow. She typed a quick reply, then tossed her phone onto the couch. Outside, the gardens stretched endlessly, meticulously maintained yet devoid of warmth—much like her marriage.

She had fought too hard to let Isabella—or anyone—destroy what she and Nathaniel had built. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, Evelyn couldn’t shake the feeling that the real battle was just beginning.

And this time, she wasn’t sure if love alone would be enough.

Isabella's voice trembled as she asked, "Nathaniel, if not for what happened last year, would you have cut me out of your life long ago?"

Nathaniel didn’t answer. His icy gaze was answer enough.

Isabella swallowed hard, her eyes glistening. "Right. I see now."

She pressed a hand to her lips and fled, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

Nathaniel didn’t follow. Didn’t even call after her.

He stood rooted in place, jaw clenched, wrestling with the storm inside him.

By the time he returned to the dining room, Evelyn was already seated, her posture rigid.

Their eyes met briefly before she looked away, picking up her fork. "We should eat. The food’s getting cold."

No warmth in her tone. No questions.

Nathaniel took his seat across from her. Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

When the meal ended, Evelyn finally spoke. "Nathaniel, will you help me now?"

He leaned back, wiping his hands with deliberate slowness. Then, his voice dangerously calm, he asked, "What do you think of what Isabella just did?"

Evelyn froze. The memory of Isabella pressing her lips to his flashed in her mind.

She hadn’t seen it clearly—only heard their argument, Isabella’s desperate sobs. But the implication was obvious.

Of course they kissed. He loves her. He always has.

Her chest ached. Why was he asking her this?

Was he testing her? Seeing if she’d play the understanding wife?

She forced a smile, nails digging into her palms. "That’s between you and Isabella. It’s not my place to comment." She paused. "But don’t worry. I won’t interfere."

Nathaniel’s laugh was sharp. "How generous of you." His eyes burned into hers. "Should I applaud? Maybe award you ‘Most Tolerant Wife’?"

Evelyn’s mask didn’t crack. "Did I say something wrong?"

You’re the one who taught me to stay out of it. To know my place. And now you’re angry?

Nathaniel shoved his chair back. "You’re never wrong. It’s always me."

He turned to leave.

Evelyn shot up, blocking his path. "Nathaniel, I don’t understand. You made it clear your relationship with Isabella is private. I respected that. So why are you furious now?"

His jaw tightened, veins standing out along his neck.

When he spoke, his voice was rough. "If you want my help finding Charlotte, prove you mean it. You think one meal is enough?" His smile was cold. "My cooperation doesn’t come that cheap."