Chapter 38

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. Her fingers flew over the blueprints, making precise adjustments with her mechanical pencil. The scent of freshly brewed coffee from Gabrielle's desk mingled with the crisp paper smell.

A sharp knock interrupted her concentration. "Come in," she called without looking up.

The door swung open to reveal Nathaniel, his tailored navy suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His usual composed expression was replaced by something unreadable. "We need to talk," he said, his voice low.

Evelyn's pencil stilled. She recognized that tone—the one he used before dropping life-altering news. "About?"

"Edward just called an emergency board meeting." Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "He's pushing for immediate approval of the waterfront project."

Her stomach dropped. "But we haven't finalized the environmental impact reports—"

"I know." He ran a hand through his dark hair, a rare sign of agitation. "That's not all. Isabella's back in town."

The pencil snapped between Evelyn's fingers. A jagged piece clattered onto the blueprint, leaving an ink smudge across her carefully drawn elevations. She didn't need to ask why this mattered. Everyone in their circle knew Isabella Davis was Nathaniel's first love—the woman who'd left him at the altar five years ago.

Gabrielle appeared in the doorway, her tablet clutched to her chest. "Mr. Martin? Your grandfather's on line one. He says it's urgent."

Nathaniel's phone buzzed simultaneously. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening further. "Tell him I'll call back."

As Gabrielle retreated, Evelyn stood, brushing graphite dust from her slacks. "You should take that. Edward doesn't call unless—"

"I know what this is about." Nathaniel stepped closer, his cologne—sandalwood with a hint of bergamot—wrapping around her. "The board wants to replace you as lead architect."

The words hit like a physical blow. "On whose authority?"

"Officially? Project efficiency concerns." His gaze locked onto hers. "Unofficially? Someone's been feeding them misinformation about delays."

Evelyn's mind raced. She'd worked eighty-hour weeks on this development. Every deadline had been met. "Isabella," she breathed.

Nathaniel didn't confirm, but the muscle twitching in his jaw spoke volumes. "Meet me at Martin Tower in an hour. Wear the navy Chanel."

As he strode out, Evelyn's phone lit up with a notification from Charlotte: Just saw Isabella at The Plaza. She's meeting with Sebastian Wilson. Thought you should know.

Her blood ran cold. Sebastian Wilson—Summit Realty's CEO and Edward Martin's longtime rival. If Isabella was cozying up to him while sabotaging Evelyn's position...

The intercom buzzed. "Ms. Mitchell?" Gabrielle's voice wavered. "Vanessa Rue is on line two. She says it's regarding a... personal matter between you and Ms. Davis?"

Evelyn's fingers hovered over the receiver. Vanessa was Isabella's bulldog of a publicist. Whatever this was, it wouldn't be good. She took a steadying breath and pressed the button. "Evelyn Mitchell speaking."

"Darling," purred Vanessa's smoky voice. "Isabella's hosting a charity gala tonight at the Met. She insists you and Nathaniel attend. Consider it... a peace offering."

A trap, more like. Evelyn eyed the broken pencil on her desk. "We'll see if our schedule permits."

Vanessa's laugh grated like nails on slate. "Oh, you'll want to clear your calendar. Isabella's making a special announcement about her new partnership with Summit Realty. Something about... repurposing historic buildings?" The line went dead.

Evelyn's stomach twisted. The waterfront project included three landmarked structures she'd fought to preserve. If Isabella and Sebastian teamed up...

Her office door burst open again. This time, Gregory stormed in, his usually impeccable tie loosened. "Turn on CNBC. Now."

The flat-screen on her wall flickered to life. A blonde anchor smiled brightly. "...exclusive report that Martin Group may abandon its signature waterfront development amid rising costs. Sources say Summit Realty is poised to take over the project with a new design team led by former Martin associate Isabella Davis—"

Evelyn's vision tunneled. This wasn't just professional sabotage. ^P

Nathaniel's brow furrowed slightly, his tone laced with displeasure. "Grandfather, did you agree out of anger, or do you truly respect our decision?"

Edward's expression remained icy. "What difference does it make?"

Nathaniel exhaled sharply. "If Evelyn and I divorced without consulting you, there’s nothing you could do to stop us. But I came to you because I hoped for your understanding—not your resentment."

"Oh, listen to my grandson, lecturing me now. How impressive..."

Edward coughed violently, and Evelyn, being the closest, immediately stood and moved to his side. She rubbed his back gently before pouring him a glass of water. "Grandfather, please don’t upset yourself. Your health is what matters most."

"Evelyn, I regret ever pushing you into this marriage."

She shook her head, offering a small smile. "Don’t say that. I’ll always be grateful to you. As for the divorce… perhaps it’s for the best. People change, and so do their paths, right?"

In her heart, she knew—without Edward, she never would have had this year with Nathaniel. And for that, she was thankful.

Her words seemed to soften Edward’s resolve.

But then he spoke again, his voice firm. "You may divorce, but on one condition."

"Name it," Nathaniel and Evelyn said in unison.

"You’ve been married a year and barely spent time here at Martin Manor. For the next two days, you will stay here—together. No leaving. No excuses."

Evelyn blinked in surprise.

Nathaniel went still.

Their eyes met briefly.

Edward added, "Of course, I can’t force you if you refuse."

His words were directed solely at Nathaniel.

Victoria chimed in, her tone gentle but insistent. "Nathaniel, your grandfather isn’t well. Must you always provoke him?"

Richard nodded in agreement. "If this is what he asks, you will honor it."

With no room left to argue, Nathaniel and Evelyn acquiesced.

Edward, ever decisive, wasted no time. "Good. Then you’ll start tonight."

He summoned the staff immediately, instructing them to prepare the master suite with fresh linens and sleepwear.

Though unexpected, the arrangement didn’t faze Evelyn or Nathaniel much. They already lived together at Pineview Villa—this was just a change of scenery.

After dinner, they lingered with Edward in the sitting room. Nathaniel’s cooperation seemed to placate the old man, who finally eased his sharp remarks.

By ten, Edward shooed them away. "Go upstairs and rest. If you need anything, ring for it."

Evelyn nodded, following Nathaniel under Edward’s watchful gaze.

The moment they were out of earshot, Edward turned to Victoria. "We must mend things between them. Find a way to stop this divorce."

Victoria’s lips curved knowingly.

Later, in their private quarters, she murmured to Richard, "Did Edward just imply we should… help Evelyn conceive in two days?"

The room they were given had once been Nathaniel’s. Though Evelyn had stayed at Martin Manor before, she’d never slept in his space.

The staff had laid out fresh clothes and toiletries. An awkward silence stretched between them before Nathaniel finally spoke. "You can shower first."

Evelyn didn’t argue. She simply nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut, Nathaniel’s gaze lingered. The usual warmth in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by something distant. It unsettled him.

While she showered, his phone buzzed. Isabella’s name flashed on the screen.

"Nathaniel, it’s late. Aren’t you and Evelyn coming home?"

His reply was clipped. "We’re staying here the next two days. If you need anything, contact Olivia."

"What? Two days?"

"Yes."

"Are you… traveling somewhere?"

Her voice trembled slightly, though she tried to mask it.

Nathaniel sighed. "No. It’s my grandfather’s condition for the divorce. He wants us here."

"So in two days, you’ll be free?"

"That’s the plan."

Isabella’s joy was palpable. "Nathaniel, does this mean we can finally be together properly?"

He said nothing.

She barreled on, breathless. "I’ve waited so long for this. Every second was worth it. I’d die for you—"

"Isabella, enough. It’s late. Get some rest."

"Of course. Goodnight, Nathaniel."

He ended the call and tossed his phone aside, striding to the balcony. The night air did little to soothe the restless irritation coiling in his chest.

He had wanted the divorce.

So why did the thought of signing those papers suddenly feel like a mistake?

Once it was done, Evelyn would vanish from his life. The Martins might still treat her kindly, but she’d no longer be his. She’d move on—date, marry, have children with someone else.

The thought sent a sharp, unfamiliar anger through him.

Nathaniel scowled. What the hell was wrong with him?

Evelyn emerged from the bathroom to find him on the balcony, his silhouette stark against the moonlight. The loneliness in his posture made her hesitate.

Perhaps he couldn’t stand being near her.

She averted her eyes. "Your turn to shower."

Nathaniel turned, his gaze piercing as he closed the distance between them. "Evelyn, what will you do after the divorce?"

The question caught her off guard. She met his eyes, searching. "I haven’t decided yet. I’ll figure it out when the time comes."

"You haven’t thought about it at all?"

"No."

His jaw tightened. "Will you be with Gregory?"

Evelyn frowned. "I don’t know. The future’s unpredictable."

"Or you just won’t tell me."

She sighed, exhausted. "Nathaniel, neither of us are fortune-tellers."

She moved toward the bed, pulling back the covers, but Nathaniel caught her wrist. His voice was low, urgent. "Do you want this divorce?"

Evelyn froze, staring at him in disbelief.

Then she laughed—soft, bitter. "What, if I said no, would you actually call it off?"