Chapter 258

The moment Evelyn stepped into the grand hall of the Martin estate, her breath caught in her throat. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made her skin prickle with unease. Across the room, Nathaniel stood rigid, his jaw clenched, his usually warm eyes now cold as steel.

Isabella was there too, her presence like a shadow lingering where it didn’t belong. She wore a smirk that made Evelyn’s fingers curl into fists.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Edward Martin, Nathaniel’s grandfather, sat in his high-backed chair, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, suffocating.

“Explain yourself,” Edward finally demanded, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

Evelyn swallowed hard. She had rehearsed this moment in her head a hundred times, but now, the words stuck in her throat.

Nathaniel stepped forward, his voice low but firm. “There’s nothing to explain. Evelyn is my wife. That’s all that matters.”

Isabella let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Oh, really? Then why did you keep it a secret?”

Evelyn’s pulse raced. She could feel the weight of every gaze in the room—Victoria’s disapproval, Richard’s calculating stare, even Winston’s quiet observation from the corner.

She took a deep breath. “We didn’t want to complicate things.”

“Complicate?” Isabella arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Or did you just not trust your own family?”

Nathaniel’s hand found Evelyn’s, his grip tight. “Enough.”

But Edward wasn’t finished. His sharp gaze locked onto Evelyn. “You married into this family without so much as a word. Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

Evelyn lifted her chin. “I didn’t marry for the name. I married for him.”

A flicker of something—surprise?—passed over Edward’s face before it hardened again. “Intentions aside, secrets have consequences.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with warning.

Then, from the doorway, a voice cut in. “And what about your secrets, Grandfather?”

Everyone turned.

Caroline stood there, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

The room went still.

Edward’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

Caroline didn’t flinch. “I think you know.”

Evelyn’s breath hitched. What was Caroline doing?

Nathaniel’s grip on her hand tightened.

And then—

The doors burst open.

Samuel Yates rushed in, his face pale. “Sir, we have a problem.”

Edward’s patience snapped. “What now?”

Samuel hesitated, then spoke the words that shattered the fragile tension.

“The media has the story.”

Evelyn’s stomach dropped.

This was worse than she thought.

Outside, the first flashes of cameras lit up the windows.

The game had changed.

And there was no going back.

Isabella's voice trembled as she pleaded, "No, it's not like that. I'm just terrified, Nathaniel. Terrified that something might happen to my mother, and I can't stand the suffocating silence of this hospital. Please... will you come stay with me?"

His response was ice-cold. "If I refuse, will you throw yourself off the roof this time?"

"That's not—"

"Isabella," Nathaniel cut her off, his tone devoid of sympathy. "If you truly want to find a heart donor for your mother quickly, listen carefully. Samuel will go to the hospital. Tell him whatever you need."

The line went dead before she could protest.

Evelyn stepped out of the bathroom moments later, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Their eyes met briefly in the dim light before she wordlessly slipped beneath the covers, her back turned to him.

Nathaniel watched her for a long moment before sending Samuel a terse message. Then he settled into bed, the silence between them thick enough to suffocate.

Just as sleep began to claim him, his phone shattered the quiet.

Samuel's voice was tense. "Mr. Martin, Ms. Davis is on the hospital rooftop. She refuses to come down unless you come personally."

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Then drag her down."

"She won't let anyone near her, sir."

"So you're telling me I need to teleport there to stop her?" His voice dripped with venom.

Before Samuel could respond, Isabella's shrill voice carried through the receiver. "Tell Nathaniel if he doesn't come, I'll jump! I should've died a year ago—at least then he'd remember me forever!"

Evelyn's voice sliced through the tension. "Go, Nathaniel. You've already ruined my sleep."

The line went abruptly silent as Samuel hung up, realizing Evelyn was in the room.

The bedroom plunged back into stillness. After a weighted pause, Evelyn spoke again, her voice chillingly calm. "You moved in because of the baby. But if you can't handle your mess, leave. I won't tolerate disruptions—especially not from her."

She turned away, signaling the end of the conversation.

Nathaniel lay motionless in the dark, his expression unreadable. Only when Evelyn's breathing evened out did he rise, dressing swiftly before leaving without a sound.

Evelyn wasn't asleep. The moment the door clicked shut, her eyes snapped open, glittering with cold fury.

She exhaled sharply, irritation coiling in her chest. Sleep was impossible now—all thanks to Nathaniel and his theatrics.

By the time Nathaniel arrived at the hospital, Samuel had coaxed Isabella back to her ward with a lie: He's on his way.

Perched on the edge of her bed, Isabella fidgeted impatiently. "Where is he? It's been fifteen minutes!"

Samuel barely masked his annoyance. "Traffic, Ms. Davis."

Her nails dug into the sheets. "Call him. Now."

When he didn't move, she snapped, "Did you hear me?"

Samuel's patience wore thin. "You'll wait, Ms. Davis. Or would you prefer the rooftop again?"