Chapter 3

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. Evelyn stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. Nathaniel had already left for work—again.

She sighed, rolling onto her back. The silk sheets felt cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth she craved. Their marriage was supposed to be a fresh start, a union of love and ambition. Instead, it felt like she was living with a ghost—one who left before dawn and returned long after midnight.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory.

"Meeting at 10. Client wants revisions on the waterfront project. Bring your A-game."

Evelyn groaned. The waterfront project was supposed to be her breakthrough, but the client—Summit Realty—was proving impossible to please. She typed a quick reply and dragged herself out of bed.

Downstairs, Alfred, their butler, had already prepared breakfast. "Good morning, Mrs. Martin," he greeted, setting down a cup of steaming coffee.

"Morning, Alfred," she murmured, taking a sip. The rich aroma did little to lift her mood.

"You seem troubled," he observed.

Evelyn forced a smile. "Just work stress."

Alfred nodded knowingly. "Mr. Martin mentioned he’d be late again tonight. Another board meeting."

Of course. She bit back a sarcastic remark. Nathaniel’s meetings were becoming as frequent as the stars in the sky.

Her phone buzzed again—this time, a notification from a gossip column.

"Isabella Davis Spotted at Elite Gala—Rumor Has It She’s Back for Good."

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her phone. Isabella. Nathaniel’s first love. The woman who had left him years ago, only to resurface now, like a storm on the horizon.

She exhaled sharply, tossing her phone onto the table.

"Everything alright, ma'am?" Alfred asked.

"Perfect," she lied.

But as she headed out the door, the weight of unspoken doubts pressed against her chest.

Was history about to repeat itself?

"If you truly knew me, you wouldn't keep dredging up the past," Evelyn said sharply.

She had given up her thriving career and public recognition to return to Mayby and marry Nathaniel, only to be handed divorce papers a year later.

Gregory felt the weight of her pain. His expression darkened, irritation flickering across his features.

Noticing his shift, Evelyn softened her tone. "Gregory, no marriage is flawless. I don’t regret being Nathaniel’s wife, even if only for a year. So don’t pity me. Love can’t be manufactured."

"You’re right. It’s better this way. At least now I don’t have to pretend," Gregory muttered, his voice trailing off.

Evelyn frowned. "Pretend what?"

"Nothing. I just never liked Nathaniel. Now I don’t have to fake it for your sake," he admitted.

She laughed lightly, though she’d never understood Gregory’s instant aversion to Nathaniel. The feeling had been mutual—like two alpha wolves refusing to share territory.

At Summit Realty, they were met with rejection. The project manager refused to intervene in the plagiarism accusation and even threatened legal action.

Despite their earnest pleas, it was futile.

Finally, the manager relented slightly. "We’ve just secured a deal with the Martin Group. They’re furious about this. Unless you can sway them, there’s nothing I can do."

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. The Martin Group? Nathaniel’s family empire. Of course. He’d never help me now.

As they left the office, Gregory squeezed her shoulder. "Don’t worry. I’ll handle this. It’ll work out."

She forced a smile, though her mind raced. What options do I have? Going to Nathaniel is the only solution—but we’re divorcing. Would he even care?

Too drained to return to work, she asked Gregory to drive her to Pineview Villa.

The entire ride, Evelyn’s thoughts spiraled—her children, her career, the uncertain future looming ahead.

When they arrived, the evening sun cast a golden glow over the villa. Evelyn stepped out and turned to Gregory. "Let me think things through before we decide our next move. Drive safely."

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, his gaze flickered upward. Someone stood on the second-floor balcony, watching.

Gregory’s jaw tightened. He motioned Evelyn closer. "One more thing."

As she leaned toward the car window, he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Take care of yourself."

Evelyn blinked, puzzled by the sudden tenderness.

From the balcony, the gesture looked intimate—almost like a kiss.

Inside, the moment she crossed the threshold, Nathaniel’s icy voice sliced through the air. "Couldn’t wait to see him, could you?"

She met his glare evenly. "I was at the office."

He scoffed. "We’re still married, Evelyn. Keep your distance from other men."

Her temper flared. "Gregory is a friend. And what about you and Isabella at the hospital? Just because I don’t mention it doesn’t mean I’m blind."

She squared her shoulders, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure. But remember—you’re still my husband. At least for now."