Chapter 289

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 design—a new eco-friendly residential complex for Martin Group. The project was her baby, one she had poured her heart into for months.

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

Evelyn straightened, smoothing her blouse. "Send him in."

Gregory Wilson strode in, his usual confident demeanor slightly frayed at the edges. "We have a problem," he said without preamble, dropping a file onto her desk.

She flipped it open, her stomach tightening at the sight of the inspection report. Red marks highlighted multiple structural concerns. "This can't be right. We followed every regulation."

Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "The city inspector is demanding revisions before they’ll approve the permits. If we don’t comply within the week, the project gets delayed—indefinitely."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. A delay meant budget overruns, unhappy investors, and worst of all, Nathaniel’s disappointment. She couldn’t let that happen.

"I’ll handle it," she said, determination steeling her voice. "Get me a meeting with the inspector. Today."

Gregory hesitated. "Evelyn, you know how these people operate. They don’t just change their minds because we ask nicely."

She met his gaze, unflinching. "Then we’ll make them."

Nathaniel Martin leaned back in his leather chair, listening as Samuel Yates briefed him on the quarterly earnings. The numbers were strong, but his mind kept drifting to Evelyn. She had been distant lately, buried in her work. He missed her.

His phone buzzed—an unknown number. He almost dismissed it, but something made him answer.

"Mr. Martin," a smooth, feminine voice purred. "Long time no see."

His blood ran cold. "Isabella."

She laughed, the sound like silk over steel. "I’m in town. We should catch up."

Nathaniel’s grip tightened on the phone. "There’s nothing to discuss."

"Oh, but there is," she countered. "Unless you want certain... revelations about your wife to become public?"

A chill slithered down his spine. "What are you talking about?"

"Meet me tonight. Eight o’clock. The usual place." The line went dead.

Nathaniel stared at the phone, dread coiling in his gut. Whatever game Isabella was playing, Evelyn was the pawn. And he would be damned if he let her win.

Evelyn rubbed her temples as she stepped out of the city inspector’s office. The meeting had been brutal, but she’d managed to negotiate a compromise. The relief was short-lived, however, as her phone buzzed with a message from an unfamiliar number.

Unknown: You should ask your husband about his dinner plans tonight.

Her breath hitched. A photo followed—Nathaniel entering an upscale restaurant, his expression unreadable. The timestamp was from last week.

Then another image loaded.

Isabella Davis, smirking at the camera, a wine glass raised in mock toast.

Evelyn’s world tilted.

What the hell is going on?

Evelyn jolted awake, her skin slick with sweat. Her fingers instinctively brushed over her abdomen before she realized it had only been a nightmare.

But then—footsteps.

Her breath hitched. She sat frozen, pulse hammering.

Evelyn slipped out of bed, bare feet silent against the floor. She eased the bedroom door open, creeping forward until the sound grew louder. Closer. Then—

"Rosalind?"

The woman turned, mop in hand, blinking in surprise. "Oh! Mrs. Martin. I didn’t mean to wake you. I came early to tidy up since I thought you’d be home. Did I disturb you?"

Evelyn shook her head, though her nerves still hummed. She moved to the kitchen for water, but the nightmare clung to her like a shadow.

She hadn’t been sleeping well. The dreams kept coming, each one leaving her more unsettled than the last.

Exhaustion weighed her down. She had no appetite, only asking Rosalind to prepare something light for dinner. For now, she curled onto the sofa, eyes closed but not sleeping. No dreams here. Just quiet.

Night fell, and the house felt too empty again. Her fingers tightened around her phone. She wanted to call Nathaniel—wanted him here, beside her, his warmth chasing away the lingering fear. But she refused to seem needy.

Then his name lit up her screen.

"Did you eat?" His voice was low, familiar.

"Yes."

"Good. Rest early. I have a dinner meeting tonight. It’ll run late."

"Okay."

Her lips pressed together. The loneliness ached.

Nathaniel hesitated. "You sound off. Tired? Or is something wrong?"

That gentle concern unraveled her. For a second, she wanted to cry, to spill everything. Instead, she whispered, "Just... bored."

"Bored?" His chuckle sent warmth through her. "Or do you miss me?"

Again with that question.

Did he really need to hear her say it?

Before she could answer, Samuel’s voice cut in on his end. "Mr. Martin, the car is ready."

Nathaniel murmured, "I have to go. Be good. Wait for me."

"Okay." She paused. Then, softly—"Nathaniel."

"Hmm?"

"I think... I might miss you. A little."

She hung up before he could respond.

Alone again, Evelyn sighed. She had gotten used to solitude before. But now Nathaniel’s presence lingered everywhere—his scent on the sheets, his voice in her memories. It made the quiet unbearable.

On the other end, Nathaniel stared at his phone, a slow smile curving his lips.

Samuel blinked. Mr. Martin... smiling?