Chapter 44

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. Her fingers hovered over the blueprint of the new Martin Group project, but her mind was elsewhere—lingering on Nathaniel's unexpected text from last night.

"We need to talk."

Three words that had kept her awake until dawn.

A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts. Gabrielle, her assistant, peeked in with a frazzled expression. "Mr. Wilson is here. He says it's urgent."

Before Evelyn could respond, Gregory strode in, his usually composed demeanor replaced by visible agitation. "Turn on the news," he demanded, tossing his tablet onto her desk.

The screen flashed with a headline that made her blood run cold: "Martin Group Heir Spotted with Former Flame Isabella Davis at Elite Gala—What Does This Mean for His Marriage?"

A paparazzi photo filled the screen—Nathaniel, devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo, standing too close to Isabella near the balcony of the Grand Metropole. Her crimson gown brushed against his leg, her fingers curled around his forearm in a gesture that screamed intimacy.

Evelyn's throat tightened.

Gregory swore under his breath. "This is bad timing. The Kensington project pitch is tomorrow, and the board’s already questioning your credibility as lead architect after the—"

"I know," she cut him off, voice steadier than she felt. She closed the tab with deliberate calm. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to handle this."

Nathaniel's penthouse was eerily silent when she arrived. Alfred, their butler, greeted her with a troubled look. "Madam, Mr. Martin left instructions not to be disturbed—"

"Where is he?"

"The study, but—"

She was already moving.

The door swung open to reveal Nathaniel by the fireplace, whiskey in hand, his profile carved in shadows. He turned slowly, and the raw guilt in his eyes confirmed everything.

"You saw the news," he said flatly.

Evelyn crossed her arms, nails digging into her sleeves. "Explain."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "It wasn’t what it looked like. Isabella ambushed me—said she had information about Grandfather’s will. Next thing I knew, photographers were everywhere."

"Convenient." Her laugh was brittle. "Just like her 'accidental' calls during our honeymoon?"

Nathaniel set his glass down with a sharp clink. "I didn’t invite her, Evelyn."

"But you didn’t walk away." The words hung between them, heavy as an executioner’s axe.

His silence was answer enough.

Her phone buzzed—a notification from Caroline: "Turn on Channel 7 NOW."

On the mounted TV screen, Isabella’s tearful face filled the frame. "...I never stopped loving him," she confessed to the reporter, dabbing at mascara-streaked cheeks. "Some bonds can’t be broken, no matter who tries to come between us..."

Nathaniel cursed, grabbing the remote to mute it, but the damage was done.

Evelyn backed toward the door, her chest burning. "I’ll be at my mother’s. Don’t follow me."

"Evelyn—"

She slammed the door before he could finish, her wedding ring catching the light as she hailed a cab—a golden band that suddenly felt like a shackle.

At Margaret’s brownstone, Evelyn collapsed onto the couch, her composure crumbling. Her mother handed her chamomile tea laced with honey—just like she’d done after childhood scrapes.

"Front-page drama aside," Margaret said gently, "what do you want?"

Evelyn stared into her cup. That was the problem—she wasn’t sure anymore.

Then her phone lit up with a call from an unknown number.

Isabella’s saccharine voice dripped through the speaker: "Let’s settle this like adults, darling. Meet me at the Regent Lounge—unless you’re scared?"

The line went dead.

Evelyn’s fingers clenched around her phone. Oh, this witch had crossed a line.

She stood abruptly, tea forgotten. "Mom, I need your pearl earrings."

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "The ones your grandmother gave me?"

"The very same." Evelyn’s smile was all sharp edges. "Time to remind certain people why they shouldn’t underestimate a Mitchell woman."

Hearing Nathaniel's voice, Evelyn instinctively lifted her gaze, meeting his icy, penetrating stare.

Displeasure was etched across his features. Evelyn frowned slightly. "I wasn't impatient. I just didn’t want to waste your time, so I got ready early and waited here."

Isn’t this better? she thought. Now he can be with Isabella openly without delay.

She didn’t understand why he was angry.

But she held back her questions, simply watching him in silence.

Nathaniel’s glare darkened, his irritation palpable. Just then, Isabella descended the stairs, her voice soft as she called, "Nathaniel."

"Yes?" He turned away from Evelyn, his tone shifting instantly.

Isabella continued, "Are you going to finalize the paperwork later?"

Evelyn ignored her, pretending not to hear. It wasn’t as if the question was directed at her anyway.

Nathaniel answered indifferently, "Yes."

Short. Clipped.

Evelyn assumed he was in a foul mood—after all, even his beloved Isabella was receiving this cold treatment.

Best to stay quiet.

Isabella brightened. "Nathaniel, shall we have dinner out tonight?"

He didn’t refuse. "If nothing comes up, I’ll have Samuel pick you up. Sound good?"

"Perfect." She smiled, nodding.

Evelyn suddenly felt like an intruder, awkward and out of place.

Thankfully, Alfred arrived to announce breakfast.

Half an hour later, after they finished eating, Nathaniel left first and got into the car. Evelyn gathered her documents and hurried after him.

They sat side by side in silence. Just as the car was about to move, Isabella approached again, leaning in through the open window.

"Nathaniel, Evelyn," she began, her voice sweet, "congratulations on your newfound freedom. Evelyn, I appreciate you taking care of Nathaniel for me this past year. Maybe we can be friends?"

Evelyn’s expression remained blank as she met Isabella’s gaze. "Ms. Davis, do you often befriend your fiancé’s ex-wife? I’m afraid I have no interest in being friends with my ex-husband’s future wife."

Isabella’s smile didn’t waver. "You’re overthinking it. You and Nathaniel never loved each other—it was just an arrangement for your families. After the divorce, we could even become close. Besides, Nathaniel will still look out for you. Once we’re married, I’ll consider it my duty too."

Evelyn’s lips thinned. "Sorry, but I’m no saint. Do as you please, Ms. Davis."

With that, she rolled up the window, cutting off Isabella’s voice mid-sentence.

She turned to Nathaniel. "Let’s go."

Nathaniel had stayed silent during the exchange. Now, as he started the car, he shot her a glance. "Isabella wasn’t trying to provoke you. Why the hostility?"

"I was just stating facts."

"What facts?"

Evelyn exhaled. "Nathaniel, after the divorce, I don’t think we—or Isabella and I—should stay in contact. It’s better if we become strangers. Cleaner for everyone."

Most importantly, she couldn’t bear to watch the man she loved with someone else.

A proper ex-wife shouldn’t linger in her ex-husband’s life.

Nathaniel didn’t respond. Just then, her phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID, her stomach twisted. She declined the call immediately.

Nathaniel noticed. "Not answering?"

"Not important."

She turned to the window.

It was Margaret. Evelyn knew exactly why she was calling.

And she had no intention of entertaining it.

But the phone rang again. Without hesitation, Evelyn powered it off.

Everything could wait until after the divorce was finalized.

Nathaniel’s voice cut through the silence. "Who was it?"

"My mother."

"Why ignore her?"

Evelyn kept her tone even. "She doesn’t want us to divorce. Answering won’t change anything."

Nathaniel’s gaze sharpened. "Your relationship with the Mitchells isn’t as perfect as it seems, is it?"

"More or less. Doesn’t matter."

She didn’t elaborate. In their year of marriage, he’d never once asked about her family. Now that they were ending things, it was irrelevant.

Nathaniel sensed her withdrawal. His jaw tightened before he spoke again. "Your parents oppose the divorce. How will you explain it to them?"

"I’m an adult. I make my own decisions. You don’t need to worry about it."

Her voice was calm, detached.

But to Nathaniel, it sounded like deliberate distance. His expression darkened, the air between them turning frigid.

Silence settled over them.

Soon, the car pulled up outside the courthouse.

One step through those doors, and everything between them would be erased.

Neither spoke. The quiet was so heavy Evelyn could hear her own heartbeat.

Finally, she broke it. "Nathaniel, let’s go in."

"Fine."

She reached for the door handle—

Then Nathaniel’s phone rang.

He answered tersely. "What?"

Evelyn couldn’t hear the other side, but Nathaniel’s posture stiffened. His frown deepened before he ended the call abruptly.

"Isabella’s unwell. I need to go to the hospital. Coming?"

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her papers. "Can’t we finish this first?"

"Evelyn," he snapped, "when Isabella is sick, it’s life-threatening. Compared to that, the divorce can wait."

Without waiting for her reply, he slammed the accelerator.

The car lurched forward. Evelyn, who’d already unbuckled, scrambled to fasten her seatbelt again.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Nathaniel’s stormy expression.

Of course, she thought bitterly. Postponing our divorce for her is nothing. After all, she’s more important.

She stayed silent the entire drive.

When they arrived, she didn’t move. "I’ll wait here."

"Suit yourself."

Nathaniel barely glanced at her before striding into the hospital, his urgency unmistakable.

The sight made her chest ache.

Minutes ticked by. Nathaniel didn’t return.

Evelyn sighed.

Must be serious.