Chapter 27

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn’s office, casting golden streaks across her drafting table. She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples as she stared at the blueprint in front of her. The design for the new Martin Group project was due by the end of the week, and every minute counted.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, not looking up.

Gabrielle, her assistant, stepped inside, balancing a tray with a steaming cup of coffee. "Thought you might need this," she said, placing it carefully on the desk.

Evelyn smiled gratefully. "You’re a lifesaver."

Gabrielle hesitated, then added, "Mr. Wilson called earlier. He said he needs to discuss the final adjustments before the client meeting tomorrow."

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her pen. Gregory Wilson, her business partner, had been pushing her harder than usual lately. She knew he meant well—the firm’s reputation was on the line—but the pressure was suffocating.

"I’ll call him back later," she said, forcing her voice to stay even.

Gabrielle nodded and turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Oh, and Nathaniel called too. He said he’d be home late tonight. Another board meeting."

Evelyn’s chest tightened. Lately, it felt like Nathaniel was slipping further away, buried under the weight of his family’s empire. She missed the days when they could just be—no expectations, no obligations.

"Thanks," she murmured, picking up her coffee.

As Gabrielle left, Evelyn leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the office pressed in on her, amplifying the doubts swirling in her mind.

Was this what she really wanted? The endless deadlines, the sleepless nights, the growing distance between her and Nathaniel?

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. A message from Caroline, her cousin and closest confidante:

"Dinner tonight? I need to vent. And you look like you could use a drink."

Evelyn chuckled despite herself. Caroline always knew when she was drowning.

"Deal," she typed back. "But only if you promise not to judge me for ordering dessert first."

Caroline’s reply was instant: "Who do you take me for? Dessert is mandatory."

Evelyn set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe tonight would be exactly what she needed—a break from the chaos, a moment to breathe.

She turned back to her work, determination flickering in her chest. She would finish this design. She would prove herself.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d find a way to bridge the gap between her and Nathaniel before it was too late.

Nathaniel finally stirred. His voice came out rough. "Yeah."

He straightened up, his gaze settling on Evelyn with unexpected softness. "Forgive me. My chest tightened suddenly—couldn't brake in time. You weren’t frightened, were you?"

Evelyn studied him, her expression unreadable. Was it truly just the brakes?

Or something else entirely? The thought flickered before she crushed it. Nathaniel didn’t love her. Jealousy wasn’t in his repertoire.

"I’m fine," she said evenly. "What’s wrong with your heart?"

"Nothing dire. Likely exhaustion catching up. Rest will suffice." His pallor betrayed him.

Evelyn’s fingers twitched toward him before she checked the impulse. "Then you should go inside."

"Assist me?" The request was quiet, his eyes holding a plea that disarmed her.

That look—gentler than she’d ever seen—left her mute.

Gregory materialized beside them. "Need help, Mr. Martin? Evelyn’s hardly equipped for this. Let me."

Their eyes clashed—two storms colliding. If glares could ignite, the air would’ve combusted.

Nathaniel didn’t budge. "Appreciated, Mr. Wilson, but I’ve an aversion to strangers’ hands. My wife will do." His focus returned to Evelyn, deliberate. "You’ll help me. No need to inconvenience your… colleague further."

Something in his tone struck her as performative. Uncharacteristic.

When she hesitated, he pressed, "Gregory’s already driven you home. It’s improper to impose more. As your husband, I should be thanking him for seeing you safely here."

"Fine. I’ll help." She turned to Gregory, voice lowered. "You should head back."

"Right. Call if you need anything. We’ll talk tomorrow at the office."

"Drive safe."

"You as well, Mr. Wilson."

They watched his taillights vanish before Evelyn offered her arm. Even at her height, Nathaniel’s frame dwarfed hers. His hand settled on her shoulder, nearly pulling her into his shadow.

Alfred met them at the door, alarmed. "Good heavens—what happened?"

"Could you call Dr. Harrison?" Evelyn said. "Nathaniel’s having chest pains. Overwork, likely."

"At once—"

"Unnecessary." Nathaniel cut in. "Rest is all I require."

Evelyn guided him to the sofa, insistent. "Heart issues aren’t trivial. Humor me."

"I’ll recover. Stay with me—no one else." His voice dipped, gaze anchoring her. This version of Nathaniel—vulnerable, almost clingy—unnerved her.

It sparked treacherous hope. He wants me close. But hope was a flame too near old wounds.

No doctor came. She helped him upstairs, later bringing broth. Even unwell, he was elegance incarnate—each sip measured, his profile aristocratic.

Memories surfaced. "Remember our first meeting?" she ventured.

"Vividly," he said. "Charles Mitchell paraded you into Martin Manor, offering your hand."

His pallor didn’t diminish his beauty. That day had been fate’s decree—a marriage he’d resented until meeting her.

What he didn’t know: she’d seen him years earlier, a countryside glimpse that branded her heart.

While she’d carried that memory, he’d remained oblivious, his heart forever Isabella’s.

Evelyn smiled bitterly. "Nathaniel… do you regret marrying me?"

His brow furrowed. "Why ask?"

"Without our wedding, you’d be with Isabella now."

"Hypotheticals are pointless. Fate decided this."

"But if you could choose—would you still marry me?"

"Would you?" he countered.

Would I? Two options: never meet him, or—knowing this pain—never wed him.

"Perhaps," she whispered.

"‘Perhaps’?" His eyes flashed. "It’s yes or no."

"And you?"

"I don’t dwell on impossibilities. What is, is."

Exactly. Some doors were better left unopened.

After his broth, she ran a bath. "Rest afterward. If the pain persists, we’re calling Dr. Harrison."

"Agreed."

Yet as she turned to leave, his hand caught hers. "Where are you going?"

"To change. You bathe first." She needed to check on the baby—call Caroline for reassurance.

His grip tightened. "Aren’t you staying to help?"

Evelyn froze.