Chapter 50

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

She sighed, pushing herself up. The silk sheets slipped from her shoulders as she reached for her phone. Three missed calls from Gregory. Her stomach tightened. This couldn't be good.

"Evelyn, finally!" Gregory's voice crackled through the line the moment she called back. "We have a problem. Summit Realty just pulled out of the Riverside project. Sebastian Wilson claims we breached contract terms."

Her breath hitched. "What? That's impossible. We followed every specification—"

"Doesn't matter. Their legal team is already moving forward. We need you at the office. Now."

The shower spray did little to wash away the tension coiling in her shoulders. As she dressed, her phone buzzed—a text from Nathaniel: Dinner tonight? 8 PM. Le Ciel.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Part of her wanted to cancel, to bury herself in work. But another part, the part that still remembered how his lips felt against hers last night, typed: I'll be there.

The office was chaos. Gabrielle rushed to her side the moment she stepped off the elevator. "Mr. Wilson's been calling every fifteen minutes. He's threatening to sue for damages unless we revise the entire structural design by Friday."

Evelyn's heels clicked against the marble floor as she strode toward the conference room. "Get me the original blueprints. And call Jonathan Blake—no, actually, set up a meeting with Sebastian directly. Today."

Gabrielle hesitated. "He's... not taking our calls."

Of course he wasn't. Evelyn clenched her jaw. This had Isabella Davis written all over it. That woman had connections everywhere, including Summit Realty's board.

Her phone rang again—Charlotte this time. "You need to see this," her best friend said without preamble. A link popped up on her screen.

The society column headline burned her retinas: Martin Heir Spotted with Ex at Charity Gala—While Wife Works Late Again. The accompanying photo showed Nathaniel smiling at something Isabella was whispering in his ear, her manicured fingers resting on his forearm.

Evelyn's vision blurred. She'd known about the gala. He'd asked her to come. She'd said she was too busy with the Riverside project.

Gabrielle cleared her throat. "The structural engineer is waiting in Conference Room B."

Evelyn squared her shoulders. "Tell him I'll be right there." She typed a reply to Charlotte: Not now. Then, after a heartbeat, added: Save the article.

The day passed in a haze of calculations and tense negotiations. At 7:45 PM, she stood outside Le Ciel, smoothing her emerald green dress. The maître d' led her to their usual corner table.

Nathaniel stood as she approached. His gaze swept over her, lingering on the hollows beneath her eyes. "You look exhausted."

"Long day," she murmured, accepting the kiss he pressed to her cheek. His cologne—sandalwood and something darker—wrapped around her like a familiar embrace.

He waited until they'd ordered before speaking again. "You saw the photos."

It wasn't a question. Evelyn took a sip of wine. "I did."

"Isabella showed up uninvited. I was just being polite."

"Of course." The words tasted bitter. "Just like you were 'just being polite' when you had lunch with her last week?"

His eyes flashed. "You've been checking up on me?"

"Your secretary puts everything in your shared calendar, Nathaniel. It's not exactly covert."

The waiter arrived with their appetizers, forcing a temporary ceasefire. As he walked away, Nathaniel leaned forward. "What's really going on? This isn't about Isabella."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her fork. "Summit Realty is trying to back out of Riverside. They're claiming design flaws."

"And you think I had something to do with it?"

"Did you?"

The silence between them stretched taut. Somewhere in the restaurant, a glass shattered.

Nathaniel's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You really believe I'd sabotage your career?"

Evelyn opened her mouth—then froze as her phone vibrated. Gregory's name flashed on the screen with the subject line: URGENT - Check your email.

Her stomach plummeted as she read the attached document. Summit Realty's formal complaint—cc'd to the entire architectural review board.

Nathaniel watched her face pale. "What is it?"

She stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her wine glass. "I have to go."

"Evelyn—"

But she was already walking away, the whispers of other diners following her out the door. The night air hit her like a slap. As her Uber pulled up, her phone buzzed once more.

Unknown number. A single sentence: You should have stayed away from what's mine.

The screen went dark before she could reply.

"Ms. Davis has been located, but she's running a high fever from exposure and is still receiving IV fluids."

"Understood. Keep watch here. Everything else can wait until he wakes."

Evelyn gave brief instructions before leaving the hospital room.

Part of her wanted to march straight to Isabella and demand answers, but the thought dissolved as quickly as it came.

Nathaniel had rushed out in the middle of a storm to find Isabella—no one had forced him at gunpoint. So what right did Evelyn have to interrogate her?

She drove straight back to Pineview Villa, showered, ate a light breakfast, then took another long bath before collapsing into bed.

At the hospital, Nathaniel stirred awake around eight in the morning.

Evelyn had already been gone for over an hour.

His vision cleared to reveal Isabella slumped in the chair beside him, head propped on her hand, eyes shut.

Nathaniel frowned, taking in her hospital gown and pallid complexion before the memories flooded back.

The anesthesia had worn off. Pain radiated from his wounds and fractured ankle with every slight movement.

Just then, Isabella blinked awake. Seeing him conscious, her face lit up. "Nathaniel! You're awake. How are you feeling? Should I call the doctor?"

"Don't bother." His voice was flat, lips bloodless. Every word sent fresh jolts of agony through him.

"Nathaniel, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault—"

"I don't blame you." He cut her off. "How are you holding up?"

"Just a slight fever. The meds helped." She shook her head, eyes puffy from crying. Seeing him bandaged and broken twisted something in her chest.

His expression remained neutral. "Where is everyone else?"

His gaze swept the room, searching for a familiar silhouette. When he found none, his jaw tightened imperceptibly.

Isabella hurried to explain, "Samuel went to gather your essentials. He'll return soon."

"I see."

Nathaniel said nothing more, closing his eyes. Exhaustion lined his bruised face. Fragments of the crash returned—the reckless speed, the swerve to avoid a red-light runner, the sickening impact.

Isabella watched him silently, not daring to disturb his rest.

Soon after, Samuel returned with supplies.

"Ms. Davis, is Mr. Martin awake?"

"He was, but he's sleeping again—"

"Samuel." Nathaniel's low voice cut through. "Take Isabella back to rest. There's nothing more for her here."

"Let me stay," Isabella pleaded. "I want to help. You got hurt because of me."

His gaze hardened. "No. Samuel will handle it. You need to recover."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. With a reluctant nod, she let Samuel escort her out.

Once they'd gone, Nathaniel's question came sharp as a blade. "Where's Evelyn?"

Though his tone was even, displeasure darkened his features.

Samuel answered swiftly, "Mrs. Martin stayed through the night after your admission. She only left this morning once your condition stabilized. She must be resting at home by now."

Some of the ice in Nathaniel's expression thawed—but not enough.

"Shall I contact her?" Samuel ventured.

"No. Let her sleep."

The clipped response spoke volumes. Samuel tread carefully the rest of the day, avoiding further missteps.

Evelyn slept until mid-afternoon, waking to multiple missed calls from Gregory.

She dialed him back.

"Gregory? I was asleep. What's up?"

"Just checking in—you're never this late. You sound rough. Everything okay?"

"Didn't rest well. I'm skipping the office today. Those Summit Realty blueprints still need adjustments—see if they'll revise. If not, we'll have to work with what they gave us."

She dragged herself up, splashed water on her face, then headed downstairs to scrounge up lunch.

Her mind wandered. Should I inform the Martins about Nathaniel?

If he's keeping it quiet, word won't get out.

Better not worry Edward.

No calls came from the hospital.

Nathaniel would be awake by now.

Evelyn hesitated, then texted Caroline for an update.

The return call came swiftly. "Nathaniel's fine—awake and stable. Needs time to heal the fractures and injuries, but no complications."

"Good." Evelyn's voice gave nothing away.

Caroline hesitated. "I heard this happened because of Isabella?"

Evelyn's grip tightened on her phone. "Yes."

"What the hell? You're still married, and he nearly gets himself killed over her? This is unacceptable!"

Caroline fumed on her behalf. Evelyn was brilliant, stunning—even if the Mitchells couldn't match the Martins' stature, she didn't deserve this disrespect.

But Caroline bit back further outrage, not wanting to upset Evelyn more.

Evelyn offered no reaction. "What's done is done. Just keep me posted if anything changes."

"Of course."

With Nathaniel's condition confirmed, Evelyn had no intention of visiting.

The whole ordeal was a splinter lodged deep—not fatal, but festering with every breath.

Caroline's words had struck a nerve. Still married, yet he'd risk his life for Isabella. Where does that leave me?

She'd thought she could brush it off. But the wound refused to close.

Evelyn stayed away. Nathaniel didn't reach out.

A silent standoff.

Pain kept Nathaniel drifting in and out of sleep. By nightfall, frustration gnawed at him—trapped in bed, reliant on a catheter, utterly helpless.

Isabella returned at dawn, fussing over him.

His continued indifference unsettled her. Desperate to break the silence, she ventured, "Hasn't Evelyn visited? Is she... upset because of me?"