Chapter 253

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. Her fingers flew over the blueprints, making precise adjustments with her mechanical pencil. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of ink from the printer.

Gabrielle knocked lightly before entering, balancing a stack of files in one arm. "The contractors for the Riverside project just called. They need your approval on the final materials list by noon."

Evelyn glanced at her watch, then at the half-empty coffee cup. "Tell them I'll review it within the hour." She rubbed her temples, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache. The Martin Group gala tonight loomed large in her mind - her first public appearance as Nathaniel's wife since their whirlwind wedding.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Nathaniel: Running late. Board meeting ran over. Will meet you at the penthouse by 6. She typed a quick reply, her lips curving unconsciously. Even after three months of marriage, just thinking about him sent warmth through her chest.

The intercom crackled. "Ms. Mitchell? Mr. Wilson is here to see you." Evelyn's eyebrows rose. Gregory hadn't mentioned dropping by today.

He strode in moments later, his usual crisp suit slightly rumpled. "We have a problem," he said without preamble, dropping a glossy magazine onto her desk. The headline screamed: Martin Heir's Secret Past: The Truth About Isabella Davis.

Evelyn's breath caught. The accompanying photo showed a younger Nathaniel with his arm around a stunning blonde at some charity event years ago. Isabella's smile was dazzling, her grip on Nathaniel possessive even in the frozen moment.

Gregory tapped the page. "This hit newsstands an hour ago. The article claims they were engaged before she disappeared mysteriously." His voice dropped. "There's speculation about... foul play."

Evelyn's fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages. The article quoted "anonymous sources" suggesting Nathaniel's family had paid Isabella to disappear when she became inconvenient. Worse, it hinted she might have met with an accident.

Her stomach twisted. Nathaniel had mentioned Isabella exactly once - as an ex from college days. Nothing about an engagement. Nothing about... this.

The office phone rang shrilly. Gabrielle's voice came through, strained. "It's Mr. Martin's assistant. Line one."

Evelyn reached for the receiver with numb fingers. Samuel Yates' usually composed voice held an edge. "Mrs. Martin, we have a situation. Reporters are camped outside all Martin Group properties. Mr. Martin suggests you leave the office immediately through the service entrance. A car will meet you at—"

The line went dead as Evelyn's cell phone chimed with an incoming video message. The preview frame showed Isabella's face. Alive. Smiling.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Every instinct screamed not to open it. But she had to know.

The video played. Isabella, older but still beautiful, sat in what looked like a hotel room. "Hello Evelyn," she purred. "Bet you didn't see this coming. Neither did Nathaniel." She leaned closer to the camera, her blue eyes icy. "I'm coming home. And darling? You might want to check your prenup. There are things about your husband even you don't know."

The screen went black. Evelyn realized she'd stopped breathing.

Gregory's hand on her shoulder startled her. "Evelyn? What is it?"

She turned the phone toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. "She's back."

Outside, the first reporters were already shouting questions through the building's glass doors. Evelyn's perfect world was crumbling, and the storm had only just begun.

Evelyn protested, "Grandma Beatrice, I've been on my feet all afternoon at the construction site. That's more than enough exercise for today. Please don't make me walk anymore."

"If I didn't see it, it doesn't count," Beatrice replied stubbornly.

"Grandma!"

Beatrice ignored her and turned to Nathaniel instead. "Pregnant women can be moody. Be patient with her."

Nathaniel nodded. "Understood."

In the end, the two of them stepped out under Beatrice’s watchful gaze. Evelyn had half a mind to retreat to her apartment, but Nathaniel murmured, "She’s watching us. Let’s just take a short walk downstairs and come back, alright?"

They strolled around the apartment complex in silence for a while before Nathaniel finally spoke. "Has Beatrice always been this... energetic?"

"Yes," Evelyn answered simply.

Her grandmother was the kind of woman who radiated optimism, no matter the circumstances.

Nathaniel’s lips curved slightly. "Good."

Evelyn didn’t understand why he’d asked, but she didn’t press further.

Half an hour later, they returned to the building’s entrance.

Evelyn stopped and turned to him. "I’ll go up alone. You can leave now."

Nathaniel immediately caught the dismissal in her words. His gaze sharpened as he studied her.

They stood there, locked in a silent standoff. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held something deeper—something questioning.

"Evelyn," he said finally, "are you still upset with me?"

She hesitated, then answered softly, "No. There’s nothing between us to be upset about. Why would you even ask?"

"If that’s true, then why won’t you let me come upstairs?"

"If you come up now, you’ll just have to leave again later. I’m saving you the trouble."

"How thoughtful." His voice was dry. "In that case, have you considered my question?"

Evelyn froze.

His words brought back the memory of him asking—Would you really let us stay divorced?

She pressed her lips together, meeting his gaze steadily. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken tension.

After a long pause, she exhaled. "My answer is—"

A sharp ringtone cut her off.

Nathaniel frowned, pulling out his phone. He glanced at the screen before answering. "What is it?"

"Nathaniel, where are you? Come out for drinks!"

It was Thomas. Evelyn caught fragments of his voice through the phone.

Nathaniel’s eyes flicked back to her. She gave him a small nod. "Go ahead. I’ll head upstairs."

Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away. Nathaniel watched her retreating figure before lifting the phone again. His voice was ice. "I’ll be there."

Thomas, having overheard Evelyn, hesitated. "Did I just interrupt something?"

"No," Nathaniel said flatly, then hung up before Thomas could say another word.

When Nathaniel arrived at the club, Thomas was already several drinks in.

Spotting him, Thomas raised his glass with a wry grin. "Nathaniel! Finally. Let’s drink until we forget everything tonight!"

Nathaniel gave him an unimpressed look. "Don’t expect me to call Charlotte or drag her here for you."

His blunt refusal was merciless.

Yet Thomas only laughed, though the bitterness in his eyes deepened. "You’re overthinking it. Why would I ask you to involve her? We’ve already agreed—we’re going our separate ways."

"And you’re sure about that?"

"What else is there to think about?" Thomas’s smile stretched wider, but the sorrow in his gaze was unmistakable.