Chapter 4

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's penthouse, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. She stretched languidly, her fingers brushing against the cold sheets where Nathaniel should have been. Again.

Her phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Three missed calls from Gregory.

"Damn it," she muttered, scrambling to grab it just as the fourth call came through.

"Evelyn! Where the hell are you?" Gregory's voice crackled with barely contained frustration. "The Summit Realty presentation starts in forty-five minutes. Sebastian Wilson is already here, pacing like a caged tiger."

Evelyn's stomach dropped. She'd stayed up until 3 AM perfecting the blueprints, only to oversleep on the most important day of her career. "I'm on my way. Stall him with the preliminary models."

She threw on the first professional outfit she could find—a navy-blue pantsuit that Nathaniel once said made her look "unapproachably elegant"—and dashed out the door without breakfast.

The taxi ride was a blur of honking horns and her own racing thoughts. When she finally burst into the conference room, out of breath, all eyes turned to her.

Sebastian Wilson, CEO of Summit Realty, stood at the head of the table, his silver hair impeccably groomed, his sharp gaze assessing her like a specimen under glass. "Ah, Ms. Mitchell. How... punctual."

Evelyn forced a smile, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck. "My apologies, Mr. Wilson. Traffic was—"

"—irrelevant," he interrupted, tapping his platinum watch. "What matters is whether your designs can speak for themselves." He gestured to the empty projector screen. "Shall we?"

As Evelyn set up her presentation, she caught Nathaniel's secretary, Samuel Yates, slipping into the back of the room. Her pulse spiked. Was Nathaniel having her watched now?

But there was no time to dwell. She launched into her pitch, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. The 3D renderings of the luxury waterfront development shimmered to life—sleek glass towers cascading toward the bay, interconnected by sky bridges lined with verdant gardens.

Sebastian's expression remained unreadable until the final slide. Then, slowly, he began to clap. "Impressive. Though I'd expect nothing less from Edward Martin's granddaughter-in-law."

The room erupted in murmurs. Evelyn's grip tightened around her laser pointer. So that's why she'd gotten this meeting. Not her portfolio. Not her firm's reputation. Her marriage.

Before she could respond, the door swung open. Nathaniel strode in, his charcoal suit molding to his broad shoulders, his presence sucking the oxygen from the room. "Apologies for interrupting," he said smoothly, though his stormy eyes locked onto Sebastian. "I believe my wife's designs speak for themselves—without needing my family name as a footnote."

The tension crackled like live wires. Evelyn's breath caught. Nathaniel had never publicly defended her before.

Sebastian chuckled, unfazed. "Of course. Though I wonder..." He slid a glossy brochure across the table. The cover showed Isabella Davis, radiant in a sequined gown, holding a microphone beside renderings of a concert hall. "If we're discussing nepotism, perhaps Ms. Davis' new performing arts center deserves equal consideration?"

Evelyn's blood ran cold. Isabella. Nathaniel's ex. The woman whose shadow she could never escape.

Nathaniel's jaw tensed. Before he could speak, Evelyn stepped forward, her voice icy calm. "Mr. Wilson, with all due respect, my buildings stand on their own merits. Shall we discuss the seismic retrofitting plans? Or would you prefer to keep playing petty games?"

A beat of stunned silence. Then Sebastian threw back his head and laughed. "Touché, Ms. Mitchell. Proceed."

As Evelyn resumed her presentation, she caught Nathaniel's gaze. The pride shining in his eyes made her heart stutter.

Maybe, just maybe, she didn't need his name to shine. But having him in her corner? That felt like sunlight breaking through the storm.

Evelyn's sharp reply left Nathaniel momentarily stunned, his dark eyes flashing with irritation.

Seeking an escape from the mounting tension, she turned toward the stairs, but Nathaniel’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising force. His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Evelyn, are you giving me orders now?"

"I'm only asking for what’s fair," she countered, her chin lifting in defiance.

"Is this for him? Was every kindness you showed me just a lie?" Nathaniel pressed, his grip tightening.

Evelyn tried to twist free, but his hold was unyielding. When she struggled, he pulled her abruptly against his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne enveloping her. She stiffened, trapped in his arms.

"Answer me, Evelyn. Is it because of Gregory?" he demanded, his breath warm against her skin.

She bit her lip, hesitating. The proximity made her pulse race, her thoughts scattering. Finally, she whispered, "No, you’re imagining things. He’s just a friend."

"Just a friend?" Nathaniel’s voice dripped with skepticism.

"If you don’t believe me, why bother asking?" she shot back.

"Evelyn, Gregory isn’t right for you. Stay away from him," he ordered.

Anger flared in her chest. "We’re getting divorced. You can dictate what I do now, but after that, it’s none of your business. Who I see, who I—"

Her words were abruptly cut off as Nathaniel’s lips crashed against hers.

Evelyn froze, shock paralyzing her. They had been intimate before, but never like this—never with such raw, unchecked intensity.

His kiss was relentless, leaving no room for protest. She instinctively pushed against his chest, but the movement only seemed to spur him on. His hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss, their breaths mingling in a heated exchange.

Overwhelmed, Evelyn felt tears prick her eyes. His passion was dizzying, forcing her to clutch his shoulders for balance.

Just as the moment threatened to consume them, Nathaniel’s phone rang sharply, slicing through the tension. He broke the kiss abruptly but didn’t pull away entirely, resting his forehead against hers, his gaze burning into her.

Ignoring the persistent ringing, he finally answered without looking away from her. "What is it?"

"Nathaniel, I—I’m scared..."

Evelyn heard the soft, trembling voice on the other end—Isabella. Reality crashed over her like ice water.

What am I doing? She had already signed the divorce papers. They were over. How had this happened?

Face pale, she shoved Nathaniel away as he spoke into the phone and bolted up the stairs.

Nathaniel watched her retreat, his expression darkening. "What’s wrong, Isabella? Isn’t the nurse there?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I keep hearing noises outside. What if—what if he’s come back? Please, Nathaniel, come over," Isabella pleaded, her voice breaking.

Nathaniel remained silent, his jaw clenched.

Desperation edged her tone. "I think I remember something from that night... I might know what he looks like now..."