Chapter 233

The moment Evelyn stepped into the grand hall of the Martin estate, her breath caught in her throat. The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the marble floors, and the scent of fresh roses filled the air. But it wasn’t the opulence that unsettled her—it was the weight of Nathaniel’s gaze, dark and unreadable, as he stood near the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand.

She hadn’t expected him to be here.

"Evelyn," he said, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "You’re late."

She forced a smile, gripping the strap of her bag tighter. "Traffic was terrible."

A lie. She had spent the last hour pacing in her car, debating whether to come at all.

Isabella’s sudden reappearance had thrown everything into chaos. The woman who had once held Nathaniel’s heart—the one Evelyn had foolishly believed was gone for good—was now standing in the corner of the room, her crimson dress like a warning sign.

"Ah, Evelyn," Isabella purred, gliding forward. "How lovely to see you again."

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. "Isabella. I didn’t realize you were back in town."

"Just for a little while." Her smile was razor-sharp. "Nathaniel insisted."

The words were a deliberate jab, and Evelyn felt the sting. She glanced at Nathaniel, but his expression gave nothing away.

Gregory, ever the peacemaker, stepped in. "Evelyn, I was just telling Edward about the new project. He’s quite interested."

She seized the lifeline. "Yes, the waterfront development. It’s going to be revolutionary."

Edward Martin, Nathaniel’s grandfather, gave her an approving nod. "Your designs are always impressive, my dear."

But before she could respond, Nathaniel cut in. "We should discuss the details later. In private."

His tone left no room for argument.

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. What was he planning?

Just then, Vanessa, Isabella’s ever-loyal shadow, appeared with a tray of champagne. "Drinks, anyone?"

Isabella plucked a glass with a smirk. "Oh, don’t mind if I do."

Evelyn declined with a shake of her head. She needed a clear mind tonight.

As the evening wore on, the tension thickened. Every glance Nathaniel sent her way felt like a silent challenge. Every word Isabella spoke dripped with hidden meaning.

And then, just as Evelyn was about to excuse herself, Nathaniel’s hand closed around her wrist.

"We need to talk," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Now."

Her heart hammered. Whatever he had to say, she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.

But one thing was certain—the game had just changed.

The moment Evelyn heard Nathaniel's voice, she spun around. His striking features were shadowed with unease, his usual composure shattered. The panic in his eyes sent a ripple of alarm through her.

"Where are we going? What's wrong?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nathaniel's gaze flickered over her face. "Just come with me, please?"

Outside, the storm raged on, rain pelting against the windows like a relentless drumbeat. Without another word, Evelyn followed him. The moment they stepped outside, cold droplets soaked through her clothes. She barely had time to fasten her seatbelt before Nathaniel slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car lurching forward with a sharp growl of the engine.

The speedometer climbed dangerously high.

Evelyn gripped the door handle, her knuckles whitening. "Nathaniel, slow down! You can't drive like this in a storm!"

His jaw tightened, his fingers clenched around the steering wheel. He didn't respond.

Her stomach twisted. Something was terribly wrong.

Thirty minutes later, the car screeched to a halt in front of an opulent estate. A servant stood at the entrance, umbrella in hand, waiting. Nathaniel grabbed Evelyn's wrist and pulled her inside before she could protest.

The grand foyer was immaculate, all marble and crystal. But Evelyn's attention snapped to the figure on the sofa—Thomas. His usually polished appearance was disheveled, his shirt half-buttoned, his hair dripping wet.

The moment he saw them, he surged to his feet. "Has Charlotte contacted you?" His voice was rough, desperate. "Is she hiding? Did she run again?"

Understanding crashed over Evelyn. That was why Nathaniel had dragged her here in the middle of the storm.

Her pulse spiked. "Charlotte's missing?"

Thomas's eyes narrowed, searching her face for deception. The intensity of his stare made Nathaniel step forward, his voice sharp. "She disappeared under your watch. Why are you interrogating Evelyn?"

Thomas turned away, his gaze fixed on the storm outside. Lightning split the sky, illuminating his hollow expression. "She vanished when the rain started. Climbed down from the balcony. No one noticed in the chaos." His voice was hollow. "I only realized when I got back."

"You locked her in?" Evelyn's voice rose, fury igniting in her chest. "I told you not to hurt her! What the hell were you thinking?"

Thomas didn't answer.

Evelyn scoffed. "So why drag me here? Do you think I helped her escape?"

"That's not—"

"Save it." She cut him off, her hands shaking. The storm outside mirrored the tempest inside her. Charlotte had no phone, no money—nowhere to go in Mayby except to her.

Thomas exhaled sharply. "The police are reviewing surveillance footage. But the storm's delaying everything."

Silence fell. A servant offered water, but Evelyn ignored it.

Nathaniel reached for her hand, but she jerked away before he could touch her. The look she gave him was icy. Without a word, she stalked to the sofa and sat stiffly.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

They waited in suffocating silence, the only sound the relentless downpour outside.