Chapter 73

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. I stretched beneath the silk sheets, my fingers brushing against the empty space beside me. Nathaniel had already left for work—again.

I sighed, rolling onto my back. The bed felt too large without him.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gabrielle, my assistant: "Evelyn, the client meeting has been moved to 2 PM. Also, Gregory wants to discuss the new project before then."

I groaned. Another day of juggling deadlines and expectations.

As I stepped into the shower, the warm water did little to ease the tension in my shoulders. The last few weeks had been a blur of late nights and early mornings, with Nathaniel barely home long enough to share a meal. The Martin Group was swallowing him whole, and I was starting to feel like a stranger in my own marriage.

Dressed in a tailored navy suit, I grabbed my coffee and headed out. The city was alive with the hum of traffic and chatter, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere—on the growing distance between us, on the unspoken words piling up like bricks in a wall neither of us knew how to dismantle.

The office was already buzzing when I arrived. Gregory leaned against my desk, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "You look like you could use another coffee."

"Or a vacation," I muttered, dropping my bag onto the chair.

He chuckled. "Well, until then, we’ve got the Kensington project to finalize. The investors are getting antsy."

I exhaled sharply. "Right. Let’s get to it."

By noon, my head was pounding. I rubbed my temples, willing the ache to fade. My phone lit up with a notification—a missed call from Nathaniel. No voicemail. No text. Just another unanswered attempt at connection.

I dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail. "You’ve reached Nathaniel Martin. Leave a message."

I didn’t.

Instead, I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over Isabella’s contact—the woman who had once been his everything. The woman who still lingered in the shadows of our marriage, a ghost I couldn’t exorcise.

A knock at my office door snapped me back to reality. Gabrielle poked her head in. "Evelyn, the client’s here early."

I plastered on a smile. "Send them in."

But as the meeting dragged on, my thoughts kept drifting back to Nathaniel. To the way his eyes had darkened last night when I’d asked about his day. To the way he’d turned away, shutting me out.

Something was wrong. And I wasn’t sure I could fix it this time.

The clock ticked past six. The office emptied. Still no word from him.

I packed up my things, my chest tight with unease.

Then my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:

"We need to talk. It’s about Nathaniel."

My breath caught.

The screen flashed again.

"Meet me at The Velvet Lounge. 8 PM. Alone."

I didn’t recognize the number. But something in my gut told me I couldn’t ignore it.

Because whatever was coming—it was going to change everything.

"Where should we dine?" Nathaniel asked, his piercing gaze fixed on Evelyn.

She blinked in surprise. "Aren't we heading back to Pineview?"

The mention of "heading back" seemed to please him. A faint smile curved his lips, softening his usually stern expression. "We're eating out tonight," he stated matter-of-factly.

Before Evelyn could process his words, Nathaniel accelerated the car.

Then, he asked again, "What are you craving?"

Evelyn didn’t refuse. After a brief pause, she suggested, "How about The Scarlet?"

The Scarlet specialized in light, fresh dishes—perfect for Nathaniel, who disliked heavy spices, and for Evelyn, who had been avoiding strong flavors lately. It was an ideal choice for both.

Despite being married for a year, this was their first time dining out alone.

Evelyn had often wanted to ask him for a private meal but hesitated, fearing rejection or coming across as clingy.

Dinner was quiet, just like their meals at home. Nathaniel had always preferred silence while eating.

Just as she wondered why he had taken her out tonight, his deep voice broke the stillness. "You're unusually quiet."

Evelyn looked up, meeting his intense gaze. "You usually prefer it this way," she replied softly. "No talking, no distractions."

"Who told you that?"

"It's how things are at home," she explained.

Nathaniel smirked, leaning slightly closer. "Evelyn, you pay a lot of attention to me, don’t you?"

Her eyes flickered away. "We’ve been married for a year, Nathaniel. Of course I’ve noticed a few things about you."

What she really wanted to ask was whether he had ever noticed anything about her.

But the answer might hurt too much, so she swallowed the question.

Nathaniel didn’t respond. Instead, he studied her. "You’ve been distracted lately. What’s going on?"

Evelyn stiffened, surprised he had noticed.

"Just work stress," she deflected.

He didn’t buy it. His frown deepened as he pressed, "Is your relationship with the Mitchells always this strained?"

She assumed he meant the emotional distance between her and her family.

Evelyn pressed her lips together, meeting his gaze head-on. "Strained?" She laughed lightly. "Maybe. The only one who truly mattered to me was my grandfather."

Though she hadn’t grown up with the Mitchells, her grandfather had always been kind, visiting her at her grandmother’s house with thoughtful gifts.

A soft smile touched her lips at the memory.

Nathaniel watched her, an unfamiliar emotion stirring within him.

They had shared a bed for a year, yet he realized now how little he truly knew her.

Who was Evelyn Mitchell?

After dinner, they returned to Pineview Villa. Nathaniel retreated to his study while Evelyn headed to their bedroom.

It was Edward’s birthday soon, and she wanted to find him the perfect gift. Knowing his love for oil paintings, she began searching for a meaningful piece.

Once she finalized the details, she checked her phone again. Still no reply from Gregory.

Since Nathaniel hadn’t returned, she tried calling Gregory once more.

The call was abruptly cut off, followed by a text: "Can’t talk now. Everything okay?"

Evelyn frowned. "You’ve been unreachable all day. What’s going on?"

"I’m fine. Don’t worry."

She wanted to press further, but the bedroom door opened—Nathaniel walked in. She quickly stopped texting.

Perhaps because of tonight’s dinner, the tension between them had eased slightly.

Over the next few days, they visited Martin Manor daily to help prepare for Edward’s birthday celebration. The old man was visibly delighted.

At one point, Edward murmured, "Things will be better soon."

His cryptic remark made everyone pause. Victoria asked, "Father, what do you mean?"

Evelyn froze.

Edward waved it off. "Just thinking aloud. I’ll feel better after my birthday."

"Father, are you unhappy now?"

"Of course not. My happiness lies in seeing all of you well."

His words carried an odd weight, making Richard and Victoria exchange glances with Evelyn and Nathaniel.

Then, Edward asked point-blank, "Nathaniel, Evelyn, have you decided whether you’re divorcing or not?"

Silence fell.

Edward continued, "If you stay married, I plan to formally introduce Evelyn as part of the Martin family at my birthday party."

Evelyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Grandfather, I’d rather keep it private."

If they divorced later, she didn’t want to be forever labeled as Nathaniel’s ex-wife.

She didn’t crave the spotlight—and she certainly wouldn’t use their marriage for personal gain.

But Nathaniel misinterpreted her refusal. His expression darkened. "Why? What’s wrong with going public?"

"Nathaniel, you want a divorce, don’t you? Announcing it now would only complicate things later. You don’t love me, so why bother?"

His jaw tightened. "Is this really about me, Evelyn? Or are you just keeping your options open?"

His usual charm vanished, replaced by cold anger.

Before she could respond, Nathaniel gave her one last piercing look and stormed upstairs.

The room fell silent.

Evelyn bit her lip, saying nothing. Victoria quickly intervened, "Evelyn, let’s go check on the cake, shall we?"

With a forced smile, Evelyn followed her.

Nathaniel’s coldness persisted until Edward’s birthday party.

The celebration was held in Martin Manor’s private banquet hall. The Martins were a prominent family in Mayby, and Edward, a revered business titan, had drawn an illustrious crowd.

The manor was alive with festivity, every detail reflecting the family’s refined taste. Edward’s favorite opera played onstage, performed by renowned maestros in his honor.

The celebration lasted all day—luncheon, afternoon tea, and finally, an evening dance for the younger guests. Before the dance, the family would present Edward with their gifts.