Chapter 260

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, illuminating the blueprints spread across her desk. Her fingers traced the intricate lines of the latest project—a luxury resort on the coast. The design was ambitious, but she thrived on challenges.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Gabrielle, her assistant, peeked in. "Mr. Wilson is here to see you."

Evelyn nodded. "Send him in."

Gregory entered with his usual confident stride, though his expression was unusually tense. "We have a problem," he said without preamble.

She arched a brow. "What kind of problem?"

"The investors are getting cold feet. They're questioning the timeline."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "Again? We've gone over this a dozen times. The schedule is tight but manageable."

Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "I know, but they want reassurances. Preferably from someone with more... influence."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She knew exactly who he was hinting at. "You want me to bring Nathaniel into this?"

"It would help," Gregory admitted. "His name carries weight."

Evelyn hesitated. She hated relying on Nathaniel's connections—it made her feel like she wasn't standing on her own merit. But business was business.

"Fine," she relented. "I'll talk to him tonight."

Just as Gregory turned to leave, her phone buzzed. A message from Nathaniel lit up the screen:

"Dinner at eight. Wear something nice. I have a surprise for you."

A small smile tugged at her lips despite her earlier irritation. Whatever it was, she couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation in her chest.

But as she set the phone down, another notification popped up—an email from an unknown sender. The subject line alone made her blood run cold:

"You don't belong in his world."

Her fingers trembled as she hovered over the delete button. Was this another one of Isabella's games? Or something worse?

The office suddenly felt suffocating. Evelyn grabbed her coat and headed for the door. She needed air.

And answers.

The city streets were alive with the hum of midday traffic, but Evelyn barely registered the noise. Her mind raced with possibilities. Who would send such a message? And why now?

Her phone rang, startling her. It was Charlotte.

"Hey, are you free for lunch?" her best friend chirped.

Evelyn hesitated. "Actually, I could use the distraction."

"Perfect! Meet me at The Oak in twenty."

Hanging up, Evelyn took a steadying breath. Whatever was coming, she wouldn't face it alone.

But as she hailed a cab, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

And they weren't friendly.

Isabella pressed her lips together, the pain in her chest so sharp it stole her breath. She had asked Nathaniel countless times if he truly wanted a divorce.

Yet he had never given her a straight answer.

But now, when she proposed an alternative arrangement—one with conditions—he responded without hesitation.

Does he feel nothing for me anymore? Isabella wondered, her fingers trembling at her sides. Has he been waiting for me to suggest this all along?

She forced herself to remain composed, though her voice wavered slightly. "Yes, I've thought it through. So, Nathaniel… do you agree?"

"What exactly do you want?" His tone was detached, as if discussing a business transaction.

"I want the Martin Group to leverage all its influence to back me—to ensure I win Best Female Singer this year."

Nathaniel studied her, his expression unreadable. "That's it?"

"It's more than enough for me. At least this way, when we part, I'll have a foothold in the industry. I won’t be trampled underfoot."

His gaze turned icy. "Isabella, are you absolutely certain?"

She swallowed hard, forcing a fragile smile. "Yes. I can't force you to stay married to me. I love you, but I don’t want you to be miserable. So… I’ll let you go."

His face remained impassive, unmoved by her words. After a long pause, he said, "Then put it in writing. A contract benefits us both. Agreed?"

Isabella froze.

Her eyes burned as she stared at him. "Nathaniel… you want to sign a contract with me?"

He shrugged. "It’s just a formality. And your terms are reasonable."

Disbelief crashed over her.

When had he changed?

The Nathaniel she knew would have indulged her, would have softened at her tears. Now, he treated her like a stranger.

A terrible thought struck her—did he find out about what happened a year ago?

But no. That was impossible. She had covered her tracks too well.

Unless… Evelyn had gotten to him.

Her nails dug into her palms. After a long silence, she whispered, "Nathaniel, I’m afraid that once we sign this, everything between us will become… transactional. Can you give me time to think?"

She was terrified.

Terrified that once the ink dried, he would vanish from her life completely.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Not when Nathaniel owed her—his guilt over the accident that left her incapacitated for months was the only leverage she had left.

She refused to reduce their relationship to a cold, binding agreement.

Nathaniel seemed unsurprised by her hesitation. He said nothing further, leaving her to her thoughts.

By the time he wrapped up the discussion, it was past three in the morning.

He drove back to the penthouse but didn’t go inside. The last thing he needed was to wake Evelyn. If he disturbed her, she’d likely kick him out without a second thought.

These days, she showed him no mercy.

He finally understood—her earlier kindness had been nothing but an act.

Parking the car, he rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. The rest of the night passed with him slumped in the driver’s seat, lost in thought.

At seven, he bought breakfast and headed upstairs.

He found Beatrice already awake and joined her for the meal. When Evelyn stepped out of the room, he seized the moment.

"Beatrice," he said quietly, "Dr. Theodore won’t be back until next week, so I’ve scheduled your checkup for Monday."

She nodded. "Good. I’ll feel better knowing everything’s in order."

Nathaniel hesitated, then asked, "You still don’t plan to tell her?"