Chapter 219

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn’s office, casting a golden glow over the blueprints spread across her desk. She traced a finger along the sketched lines of the new resort project, her mind already racing with adjustments. The phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts.

Nathaniel’s name flashed on the screen.

Her heart skipped. They hadn’t spoken since their argument last night—another clash about Isabella’s sudden reappearance in their lives.

She hesitated before answering. “Nathaniel.”

His voice was low, strained. “Evelyn, we need to talk.”

A knot twisted in her stomach. She knew that tone. “About what?”

“Not over the phone.” He exhaled sharply. “Meet me at the penthouse. One hour.”

Before she could respond, the line went dead.

Evelyn stared at her phone, dread creeping in. Something was wrong.

Her assistant, Gabrielle, peeked in. “Everything okay?”

“No.” Evelyn shoved her chair back, grabbing her blazer. “Reschedule my afternoon meetings.”

Gabrielle’s brows furrowed. “But the client presentation—”

“Handle it.” Evelyn was already halfway out the door.

The penthouse elevator ride felt endless.

She stepped into the foyer, the silence thick. Nathaniel stood by the window, his back to her, shoulders tense.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Isabella’s pregnant.”

The words hit like a punch. Evelyn’s breath caught. “What?”

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “She claims it’s mine.”

Evelyn’s hands trembled. “And you believe her?”

“I don’t know.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But she’s demanding a paternity test.”

The room spun. Evelyn gripped the back of the sofa to steady herself. This couldn’t be happening.

Nathaniel stepped closer, his voice rough. “Evelyn, I need you to trust me.”

She met his gaze, her own burning with unshed tears. “Then tell me the truth. Did you sleep with her?”

His silence was answer enough.

Her heart shattered.

The penthouse door burst open.

Isabella strode in, her designer dress hugging her frame, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, good. You’re both here.”

Evelyn’s nails dug into her palms. “Get out.”

Isabella ignored her, tossing a folder onto the coffee table. “Test results. Congratulations, Nathaniel. You’re going to be a father.”

Nathaniel paled.

Evelyn’s vision blurred.

The walls closed in.

Then—black.

Charlotte Bennett was confined to a gilded cage—a luxurious bedroom where she'd been held since being whisked away from the airport. Three times a day, a silent maid delivered meals, but the doors remained locked. Resigned, Charlotte stopped wasting energy on futile escape plans.

What she couldn’t tolerate was Thomas Ellsworth treating her like some deranged captive.

Her sharp retorts only amused him. With a dark chuckle, he murmured, "You’ve experienced firsthand whether I’m a real man. Since I repulse you so much, what’s a few more times?"

He didn’t stop.

At first, Charlotte fought back—hissing curses, clawing at him—but soon, her voice shattered into breathless silence.

Hours later, Thomas carried her to the shower, then back to bed. He pulled her against his chest, his arms a possessive cage. Just as his breathing evened out, Charlotte kicked him hard.

"Are you done?" she spat. "Or is your fiancée so inadequate that you’re this desperate?"

Thomas’s grip tightened. "Still feisty. If you’re not tired, we can continue."

Charlotte clenched her teeth and went rigid, enduring his embrace.

But sleep never came. That night, she drowned in the same nightmare—a faceless woman whispering cruelly: "You’re just a foster child, Charlotte. Beneath him. Leave, or you’ll always be his dirty secret."

Morning light spilled into Evelyn Mitchell’s penthouse. She dressed swiftly, ready to meet her grandmother Beatrice for breakfast.

Just as she reached for the door, her phone buzzed.

Samuel Yates.

Evelyn’s stomach knotted. She answered.

"Good morning, Mrs. Martin," Samuel said smoothly. "Mr. Martin requests your presence at Martin Group headquarters. Regarding the Phoenix Project."

Her pulse jumped. "What about it?"

"You’ll need to discuss the details with him directly. But it involves... reactivation."

Reactivate the project. The words sent a thrill through her. This could solve everything.

After a quick breakfast with Beatrice, Evelyn drove straight to the Martin Group’s gleaming tower. Samuel met her at the elevator—but instead of leading her to Nathaniel’s office, he guided her to the conference room.

"Where’s Nathaniel?" Evelyn frowned. "I thought we were renegotiating terms."

"Mr. Martin is occupied. I’ll brief you first."

Samuel slid a contract across the table. Evelyn scanned the clauses, then froze.

"I’m taking full control? What about Summit Realty?"

"Mr. Martin believes too many stakeholders complicate things. Summit has withdrawn. Their prior contributions will be compensated, but from today onward..." Samuel’s gaze sharpened. "You steer this ship. Do you accept?"

Evelyn’s fingers traced the embossed Martin Group logo. "I need to speak with Nathaniel."