Chapter 72

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 blueprints, but her mind was elsewhere—Nathaniel had been acting strangely since their return from the Hamptons.

Gabrielle knocked lightly before entering, balancing two steaming cups of coffee. "You look like you could use this," she said, setting one down beside Evelyn's elbow.

"Thanks," Evelyn murmured, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. The rich aroma did little to calm her nerves.

"Mr. Wilson called while you were in your meeting," Gabrielle added, flipping through her tablet. "He said the client approved the final revisions for the Montclair project."

Evelyn nodded absently. "Good. That's one less thing to worry about."

Gabrielle hesitated. "Is everything okay? You've been... distracted all morning."

Evelyn forced a smile. "Just tired. Late night."

The truth was, she'd spent hours replaying Nathaniel's cryptic behavior—the way he'd abruptly ended their call last night, the tension in his voice when he mentioned an "unexpected meeting" today. She knew better than to pry; his family's business dealings were a labyrinth of secrets. But the gnawing suspicion that Isabella was involved again refused to quiet.

Her phone buzzed—a text from Charlotte: Lunch at Bistro 45? I have news.

Evelyn typed a quick reply. Be there in 20.

The bistro's terrace was half-empty, the midday crowd thinning. Charlotte waved from a corner table, her auburn curls catching the sunlight.

"You look like hell," she announced as Evelyn slid into the wrought-iron chair.

"Charming as ever," Evelyn deadpanned, signaling the waiter for a sparkling water.

Charlotte leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Okay, spill. What's got you wound tighter than a Rolex?"

Evelyn traced the condensation on her glass. "It's Nathaniel. He's been... evasive. And I think Isabella's back in the picture."

Charlotte's eyes widened. "Again? That woman's like a bad penny."

Before Evelyn could respond, her phone lit up with a notification—a gossip column headline: Martin Heir Spotted at Luxe Hotel with Former Flame. The accompanying photo, though grainy, was unmistakable: Nathaniel holding a door open for Isabella, her trademark smirk in place.

Evelyn's stomach dropped.

Charlotte snatched the phone, scowling. "This was today? What the actual—"

"Don't." Evelyn's voice was eerily calm. "There's got to be an explanation."

But even as she said it, the doubts slithered in. Nathaniel had promised transparency after the last Isabella debacle. Yet here they were, replaying the same nightmare.

Charlotte gripped her hand. "Confront him. Tonight."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "I will. But first..." She pulled up Nathaniel's contact, fingers trembling slightly. We need to talk. Pineview, 8 PM.

The reply came instantly: I'll be there.

No excuses. No delays.

That, at least, was something.

The afternoon passed in a blur of meetings and unanswered questions. By seven, Evelyn stood at the villa's grand piano, idly pressing keys. The discordant notes mirrored her thoughts.

Alfred appeared in the doorway. "Madam, Mr. Martin has arrived."

She turned as Nathaniel strode in, his tailored coat dusted with rain. His expression was unreadable.

"You saw the photos," he stated.

Evelyn crossed her arms. "Enlighten me, Nathaniel. What possible reason could you have for meeting her alone?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "It wasn't planned. She showed up at the office, claiming it was about Edward's anniversary gala."

"And you believed her?"

"No." His jaw tightened. "But she threatened to go to the press with 'our story' if I refused. I needed to control the narrative."

Evelyn scoffed. "By giving her exactly what she wanted? Access to you?"

Nathaniel stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I recorded the entire conversation. She admitted the blackmail scheme. It's over, Evelyn."

The raw conviction in his eyes gave her pause. But before she could respond, the doorbell chimed.

Alfred reappeared, visibly uneasy. "Madam... Ms. Davis is at the gate. She insists on speaking with you both."

Nathaniel's face darkened. "Send her away."

Evelyn held up a hand. "No. Let her in."

As Alfred retreated, Nathaniel gripped her shoulder. "Why?"

"Because," Evelyn said coolly, "I want to see her face when I destroy whatever game she's playing."

The front door opened. Isabella's laughter floated down the hall, sharp as broken glass.

"Darling," she purred, rounding the corner in a cloud of Chanel No. 5, "did you miss me?"

Evelyn smiled. It didn't reach her eyes.

"Actually," she said, "we were just discussing how you're about to learn what happens when you threaten the wrong family."

Isabella's smirk faltered.

Nathaniel's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then at Evelyn. "It's Samuel. The board just received an anonymous tip about Isabella's embezzlement at Davis Holdings."

Evelyn tilted her head. "How... unfortunate for you, Isabella."

The color drained from Isabella's face.

Outside, thunder rumbled. The storm, it seemed, had arrived right on schedule.

Nathaniel set down his fork, dabbing his lips with a linen napkin before meeting Evelyn's gaze. "Grandfather's birthday celebration needs to be memorable. Also, tonight, we'll formally invite the Mitchells together—as husband and wife."

It wasn't a request. It was a declaration.

Edward's birthday would inevitably include the Mitchells, and going with Nathaniel was far better than facing them alone. At least this way, she could avoid unnecessary drama.

Evelyn nodded. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

"I'll pick you up at seven."

"No need. I can drive myself. We'll meet at Mitchell Manor—"

"Evelyn." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "We're married. Couples arrive together."

There was something different about his tone today—more resolute, more possessive. She pressed her lips together and acquiesced silently.

Nathaniel had a meeting, so Evelyn didn’t linger. She hailed a cab back to the office, intending to discuss design revisions with Gregory, only to be told by his assistant, "Mr. Wilson hasn’t returned yet."

"Still?"

Frowning, she pulled out her phone and dialed Gregory. The call rang through, but no one answered. She dismissed it, assuming he was tied up, and retreated to her own office.

Work consumed her until her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The name flashing on the screen made her lips curl into an involuntary smile.

She answered immediately. "Well, look who finally remembered me."

"Don’t flatter yourself," came the dry response. "I just didn’t want you to think I was desperate."

Evelyn chuckled. "Oh, so now I’m the desperate one?"

"Are you saying I am?"

"Wouldn’t dream of it." She leaned back in her chair, grinning. "So, what’s the occasion?"

"I’ll be in Mayby next month for work. Drinks?"

"Absolutely. Tell me when, and I’ll book us a place."

"Can I crash at yours?"

"If you want."

"Good. Because I do. See you then."

They exchanged a few more playful jabs before hanging up. Evelyn was still smiling when Nathaniel’s text came through:

Downstairs. Now.

She typed a quick On my way, shut down her computer, and grabbed her bag. As she passed Gregory’s office, she paused. "Still no sign of him?"

His assistant shook his head. "No, and he’s not answering his phone."

Evelyn checked her watch. "Keep trying. Tell him to text me the second you reach him."

Outside, Nathaniel’s car idled by the curb. She slid into the passenger seat, buckling up before glancing at him. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not long. Who were you laughing with earlier?"

"A friend."

She offered no further explanation, and he didn’t press.

The drive to Mitchell Manor was silent. William and Margaret weren’t expecting them, so when Evelyn and Nathaniel stepped inside, Margaret’s shrill voice carried through the foyer.

"—ungrateful, that’s what she is! After everything we’ve done, she dares to humiliate us like this? If we hadn’t taken her in, if we hadn’t married her off to the Martins, she’d be nothing! And now she drags our name through the mud with her scandals!"

Margaret’s tirade was venomous, every word dripping with resentment.

"Mother, please," Sophia interjected softly. "You know what the doctor said about your blood pressure. Evelyn and Nathaniel’s marriage is their business. We shouldn’t interfere."

"Their business? She’s still a Mitchell! I don’t expect her to bring glory to this family, but I do expect her not to ruin us! Those rumors—disgusting!"

"It might just be a misunderstanding. Dominic has always been reckless. Evelyn wouldn’t—"

"Sophia, stop defending her! She didn’t grow up here. We don’t know what she’s capable of!"

Evelyn stood frozen in the doorway, her fingers digging into the edge of the console table. Nathaniel’s hand closed over hers, warm and steady, as he guided her forward.

His voice cut through the room like steel. "Had we not come today, we wouldn’t have known how deeply you resent us."

Margaret paled. Sophia stiffened.

"Nathaniel!" Margaret scrambled to her feet, forcing a smile. "Please, sit! We had no idea you were coming."

Her glare at Evelyn was accusatory—why didn’t you warn us?

Sophia hurried to order coffee. "You should’ve told us. We’d have prepared dinner."

"I came with Evelyn." Nathaniel didn’t release her hand as they sat.

Evelyn remained silent, her expression unreadable.

William entered then, his demeanor polite but wary. Even as Nathaniel’s father-in-law, he knew his place in the business hierarchy.

Small talk lasted all of five minutes before Evelyn spoke. "We’re here to invite you to Grandfather Martin’s birthday celebration."

Margaret’s face darkened. "Evelyn, after everything Nathaniel has forgiven you for, how can you still—"

"Mother." Sophia tugged at her sleeve. "Nathaniel is right here."

Evelyn’s voice was icy. "So, as the daughter you didn’t raise, as the stranger you don’t understand, everything I do is wrong. Is that it?"

Margaret opened her mouth, but Evelyn continued.

"Nathaniel and I are inviting you to Grandfather’s birthday party at Martin Manor. That’s all."

The room fell silent.

William cleared his throat. "Of course. Please extend our best wishes to Edward."

Nathaniel stood, pulling Evelyn up with him. Despite William’s insistence they stay for dinner, Nathaniel declined. "We have reservations."

As they left, Margaret’s stunned expression was almost comical.

Sophia murmured, "Nathaniel seems… protective of her. You should be more careful, Mother."

She hurried upstairs, her thoughts a tangled mess.

Outside, Evelyn buckled her seatbelt, but Nathaniel didn’t start the car.

She frowned. "Aren’t we leaving?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"…What?"