Chapter 227

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the bedroom as Evelyn stirred awake. Beside her, Nathaniel slept soundly, his breathing steady. She studied his face—the sharp jawline, the faint stubble, the way his dark lashes rested against his cheeks. A warmth spread through her chest.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory: "Meeting at 10. Client wants revisions."

Evelyn sighed. She had hoped for a quiet morning, but work never waited. Carefully, she slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Nathaniel.

Downstairs, Alfred had already prepared coffee. The rich aroma filled the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mrs. Martin," he greeted.

"Morning, Alfred," she replied, taking the cup gratefully.

As she sipped, her thoughts drifted to last night. Nathaniel had been unusually quiet after dinner, lost in thought. She had asked if something was wrong, but he’d only kissed her forehead and said, "Just tired."

She didn’t believe him.

Her phone buzzed again—Isabella’s name flashed on the screen. Evelyn’s grip tightened around her cup.

"We need to talk."

The message was simple, but the weight behind it made her pulse quicken. Isabella had been silent for weeks. Why now?

Before she could reply, footsteps sounded behind her. Nathaniel entered the kitchen, his shirt slightly rumpled from sleep.

"Morning," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She forced a smile. "Morning."

He reached for the coffee pot, his movements slow, deliberate. "You’re up early."

"Gregory needs me at the office."

Nathaniel nodded, but his gaze lingered on her face. "Everything okay?"

Evelyn hesitated. Should she mention Isabella’s message?

Before she could decide, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening. "I have to take this."

He stepped away, his voice low. Evelyn caught fragments—"not now", "later", "I’ll handle it."

Her stomach twisted.

Something was wrong. And whatever it was, Nathaniel wasn’t telling her.

As he ended the call, she met his eyes. "Who was that?"

He pocketed his phone. "Just work."

A lie.

She wanted to press further, but the tension in his shoulders stopped her. Instead, she finished her coffee in silence.

The air between them had shifted.

And Evelyn had the sinking feeling that whatever was coming—would change everything.

Nathaniel ended the call and glanced at Evelyn. "Mrs. Martin, step inside."

Evelyn gave a curt nod before making her way toward the office, design drafts in hand. She knocked once before entering.

Inside, Nathaniel lounged in his chair, a stunning woman in a figure-hugging mini dress standing beside him, gazing at him with adoration. The moment Evelyn walked in, the woman feigned hesitation. "Mr. Martin, if your wife is here... should I excuse myself?"

Though her words suggested retreat, her pout and lingering gaze betrayed her reluctance.

Nathaniel's eyes flicked to Evelyn, his expression unreadable before he smirked at the woman. "No need. My wife won’t mind." His gaze shifted back to Evelyn, challenging. "Isn’t that right, Evelyn?"

Evelyn met his dark, unyielding stare and replied coolly, "Do as you please."

"See?" Nathaniel’s voice dripped with amusement as he addressed the woman. "My wife is exceptionally understanding. Stay. Sit on the sofa—I’ll finish up here, and we’ll have lunch together."

The woman beamed, casting another triumphant glance at Evelyn before sashaying to the sofa.

Nathaniel’s demeanor shifted instantly when he turned back to Evelyn, his smile vanishing. "Speak."

The abrupt change left Evelyn momentarily frozen. She forced composure, handing him the designs.

"Daniel said I should report all progress directly to you," she began evenly. "The first section covers the initial blueprints before the project stalled. The rest is the revised draft. Most structures are still under construction—"

Nathaniel cut her off. "Is that all you came to say?"

Evelyn’s brow furrowed. "What else would there be? Are these insufficient?"

A derisive scoff escaped him. "Oh, they’re more than enough." His tone turned biting. "If that’s everything, you’re dismissed. I’ll review these later. Any revisions needed, Samuel will inform you."

"Nathaniel—"

His eyes flashed. "Evelyn, did you come here to discuss work or not?"

"Yes."

"Then adjust how you address me." His voice was ice. "Unless you want people thinking you’re here as my wife and not an architect."

Evelyn stiffened.

His mercurial moods were impossible to predict. She’d done nothing—yet somehow, she’d provoked him again.

Clenching her jaw, she replied, "Understood."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Then get out."

He didn’t even look at her, his attention already elsewhere.

Evelyn stood there a beat longer before turning toward the door.

Just as she reached it, Nathaniel’s voice halted her. "Tell Samuel to reserve a private room at The Scarlet. I’m hosting a guest for lunch."

She froze. Realizing the order was directed at her, she turned back—just in time to see the woman bounce over to Nathaniel, looping her arm through his.

"Just the two of us, Mr. Martin?" she cooed.

"Of course." He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Unless you’d prefer company?"

Evelyn’s stomach twisted.

She met Nathaniel’s gaze, her voice razor-sharp. "I’m not an employee of Martin Group. Relay your own messages."

Without waiting for a response, she strode out.

Behind her, the woman’s whisper carried. "Mr. Martin... did I upset Mrs. Martin?"

His laugh was low, careless. "Does it matter?"

The door clicked shut.