Chapter 56

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Pineview Villa, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. Evelyn stood by the window, her fingers tracing the delicate rim of her coffee cup. The warmth of the porcelain seeped into her skin, but it did little to ease the tension coiling in her chest.

Nathaniel had left early again—another "urgent meeting" that required his immediate attention. She sighed, setting the cup down with a soft clink. These days, it felt like she saw more of Alfred, their butler, than her own husband.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Gregory flashed across the screen: "The client loved your design. They want to discuss revisions today. Can you come in?"

Evelyn hesitated. She had planned to visit her grandmother, Beatrice, at the nursing home. But work was work, and the project was important. She typed a quick reply: "I’ll be there in an hour."

As she grabbed her keys, the front door swung open. Nathaniel strode in, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression unreadable.

"You're back early," she remarked, trying to keep her tone light.

He barely glanced at her as he loosened his tie. "Change of plans."

She waited for more, but he offered nothing else. The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating.

Evelyn bit her lip. "I have to head to the office. Gregory needs me for a client meeting."

Nathaniel finally looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable. "Do what you need to do."

The dismissal stung. She turned away before he could see the hurt in her eyes.

The architecture firm was bustling when she arrived. Gabrielle, her assistant, greeted her with a stack of files. "The client’s already in the conference room. They’re... intense."

Evelyn forced a smile. "Aren’t they always?"

Inside the conference room, Gregory was deep in discussion with a sharply dressed man—Sebastian Wilson, the owner of Summit Realty. His gaze flicked to Evelyn as she entered, and a slow, calculating smile spread across his face.

"Ah, the brilliant Evelyn Mitchell," he said, rising to his feet. "I’ve heard so much about you."

She shook his hand, ignoring the way his fingers lingered a second too long. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wilson."

Gregory cleared his throat. "Sebastian has some... thoughts about the waterfront project."

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his smirk never fading. "I think it needs more... drama. Something bold. Unforgettable."

Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Clients like him always wanted "drama," but rarely understood the cost of it.

"I’ll see what I can do," she said smoothly.

As the meeting dragged on, her phone buzzed again. A message from Caroline: "Emergency girls’ night. My place. 8 PM. No excuses."

Evelyn almost smiled. At least someone wanted her company.

Later that evening, wine glass in hand, Evelyn slumped onto Caroline’s couch. "I don’t know what’s happening with Nathaniel. It’s like he’s a completely different person."

Caroline swirled her own wine, thoughtful. "Men are idiots. But maybe there’s more to it."

Evelyn scoffed. "Like what?"

Before Caroline could answer, Evelyn’s phone rang. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

She hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"

A woman’s voice, smooth as silk, replied, "Evelyn Mitchell? We need to talk."

Evelyn’s blood ran cold. She recognized that voice.

Isabella Davis.

Nathaniel’s ex.

And from the sound of it, she wasn’t calling to chat.

Evelyn gripped her phone tighter. "About what?"

Isabella’s laugh was like ice. "About the secrets your husband’s been keeping."

The line went dead.

Evelyn stared at her phone, her heart pounding.

Secrets?

What the hell was Nathaniel hiding?

And why was Isabella Davis suddenly back in their lives?

The wine in her stomach turned to lead.

Something was very, very wrong.

Isabella hesitated before her agent Vanessa pulled her away. Her schedule overflowed with commitments—recording a new single and filming promotional content. With the powerful backing of the Martin Group, her comeback had sent ripples through the entertainment industry.

Congratulations poured in from fellow celebrities.

Yet, amid the excitement, one concern gnawed at her: she desperately wanted the legendary composer and lyricist, Isaac Whitman, to craft her next song. But Isaac had vanished from public life, making contact nearly impossible.

After much deliberation, Isabella resolved to confide in Nathaniel.

"Nathaniel, I need Isaac Whitman to write lyrics for my song, but I can't reach him. Could you help?"

"Isaac Whitman?"

"Yes. Even though he's reclusive, his work is still revered. A collaboration with him would be perfect. Can you arrange it?"

Isaac had been a prodigy since youth—brilliant but distant, rarely engaging with others. Few could even get close to him.

Nathaniel frowned. "Contacting him won't be easy. Can your comeback wait? I could ask Samuel to find another songwriter."

"Please, Nathaniel. I need Isaac."

Her insistence wasn’t just about the song—it was about proving Nathaniel’s devotion and, more importantly, rubbing it in Evelyn’s face.

She couldn’t afford rejection, especially not in front of her.

Nathaniel’s expression darkened, his gaze turning icy.

Seeing this, Isabella’s eyes welled up. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just—I want to be the best version of myself again, like I was before..."

"I’ll have Samuel reach out. No promises."

His tone was clipped, his face unreadable.

"Thank you! I knew you’d help me."

Her smile radiated triumph, every inch of her glowing with satisfaction.

She shot Evelyn a smug glance, silently declaring, See? He still chooses me.

Evelyn, however, barely reacted.

She had long stopped caring about Isabella’s theatrics.

For nearly three weeks, Nathaniel had remained hospitalized—mostly under Evelyn’s care.

Even when Isabella visited, he’d call for Evelyn the moment he needed anything.

Evelyn wondered if he was sparing Isabella the trouble... or simply didn’t want her around.

She dismissed the thought quickly.

Nathaniel could never want her.

His kindness was just marital obligation—nothing more.

That evening, as they arrived at Martin Manor, Edward studied Evelyn with concern.

"You look pale, dear. Are you eating properly?"

"I’m fine, Grandpa. Don’t worry."

Though nausea struck occasionally, it wasn’t severe.

Edward sighed but didn’t press further. Instead, he turned to Nathaniel, his voice sharp.

"Do you still respect this family, Nathaniel?"

"Of course."

"Then why hide your accident? Concealing injuries for a woman? Have you lost all sense?"

Though Nathaniel’s facial wounds had healed, his foot injury lingered. He walked carefully, but Edward saw through it.

The room tensed.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to Evelyn.

Her stomach twisted under his gaze.

Richard interjected, "It wasn’t Evelyn who told us. Dr. Harrison mentioned it during his last visit. We’re disappointed in you, son."

"You can’t gamble with your life like this," Victoria added quietly.

Nathaniel stayed silent until they finished. "It was an accident. I didn’t want to worry you."

"That’s no excuse. Cut ties with Isabella." Edward’s tone left no room for argument.

Nathaniel’s silence thickened the air.

Evelyn hesitated, then spoke up. "Grandpa, there’s something I need to tell you."

Her words diffused the tension, redirecting the conversation.

Once in Edward’s study, he studied her. "Are you defending him?"

"Not exactly. I... need advice."

"Go on."

She took a shaky breath. "I don’t know if I should tell Nathaniel... I’m pregnant."

The question had haunted her since he postponed their divorce.

Now, more than ever, she needed guidance.