Chapter 270

The tension in the room was palpable as Evelyn stood frozen in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the doorknob. Nathaniel's back was turned to her, his broad shoulders rigid with unspoken emotions. The dim lighting cast long shadows across his profile, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw.

"Evelyn," he said without turning around, his voice rough with exhaustion. "We need to talk."

Her heart pounded against her ribs. She had known this moment would come ever since Isabella's unexpected return. The air between them crackled with unresolved history, like a storm waiting to break.

"I'm listening," she managed, stepping further into the room. The scent of his cologne—something woodsy and expensive—filled her senses, stirring memories she'd tried so hard to bury.

Nathaniel finally turned, his dark eyes meeting hers. There was something raw in his gaze, a vulnerability she hadn't seen since their early days together. "It's not what you think," he began, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

Evelyn crossed her arms, bracing herself. "Then tell me what it is, Nathaniel. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like your past just walked right back into our lives."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Isabella showed up unannounced. She's in trouble, Evelyn. The kind of trouble that could—"

"Could what?" Evelyn interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended. "Could ruin us? Because that's what this feels like."

The silence that followed was deafening. Somewhere in the mansion, a clock ticked relentlessly, counting down the seconds of their strained peace.

Nathaniel exhaled sharply. "I made a promise a long time ago. One I can't break, even now." He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you need to know—you're my present. My future. That hasn't changed."

Evelyn wanted to believe him. Desperately. But the ghost of Isabella's smirk as she'd brushed past her earlier that evening lingered in her mind like a poison. "Promises are just words, Nathaniel. It's actions that matter."

Outside, the wind howled against the windows, rattling the panes as if echoing her turmoil. The storm wasn't just coming—it was already here. And Evelyn wasn't sure their love could weather it this time.

Nathaniel reached for her, his fingers brushing her wrist. "Give me tonight," he pleaded. "Just tonight to make this right."

She pulled away, her throat tight. "And if you can't?"

His answer was a whisper lost in the space between them, a confession that would change everything. The chapter closed on Evelyn's sharp intake of breath, the truth hanging in the air like a guillotine's blade.

The roar of an engine shattered the evening calm. Evelyn instinctively turned, her breath catching as a white sedan barreled toward her at terrifying speed.

Muscle memory took over. She leaped aside just in time. Rush hour crowds scattered like frightened birds as Danielle's vehicle carved chaos through the pavement.

Fury twisted Danielle's features when her initial strike missed. The steering wheel jerked violently beneath her manicured hands, tires screeching as she corrected course straight for Evelyn again. Madness glazed her eyes - she'd decided Evelyn needed to disappear.

Nathaniel's black sedan screeched to a halt amidst the pandemonium. He took in the screaming pedestrians with a thunderous expression before spotting Evelyn's pale face in the melee.

"Evelyn!" His voice cut through the noise as he grabbed her trembling shoulders.

She gasped, wild-eyed, until recognition dawned. "N-Nathaniel?"

His jaw tightened as he shielded her body with his own, already dialing emergency services with one hand while summoning Samuel with the other.

Evelyn's fingers clutched his sleeve. "It's Gregory's sister," she whispered urgently. "Danielle Parker. She's... not well. I should call him."

Nathaniel's silence was volcanic.

After a tense beat, Evelyn made the call. Only Gregory could defuse this bomb before someone got hurt.

True to form, Gregory materialized within minutes. He threw himself before the still-revving car, pounding the hood. "Danielle! Enough!" His bellow carried across the parking lot.

Behind the windshield, Danielle's lips twisted into something feral. "Move, Gregory! That witch needs to pay! Why does she still cling to you? Why do you protect her?"

"Because you're committing a crime!" Gregory snarled. "Hit me instead if you're so determined to destroy lives!"

Their standoff shattered when Danielle stomped the wrong pedal. The car lurched forward, slamming Gregory onto the hood. He clung desperately as she screamed for him to move, the vehicle now careening wildly.

It took three police cruisers to box her in. Gregory tumbled free with minor scrapes, immediately pleading with officers. "She's ill, she didn't mean—"

"I made the call." Nathaniel's icy pronouncement silenced him. The two men locked gazes like rival predators as Evelyn hovered between them.

"Evelyn," Gregory turned desperately, "you know her condition. This was a breakdown, not malice. Give her this one chance—"

"My pregnant wife could have died today." Nathaniel's voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "As could dozens of bystanders. Mental illness explains; it doesn't excuse."

The handcuffs clicked shut on Danielle's wrists as Evelyn watched, her own hands unconsciously cradling the life growing within her.