Chapter 75

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom. Evelyn stirred, blinking against the light as she turned to find Nathaniel already awake, his dark eyes watching her with quiet intensity.

"You're up early," she murmured, stretching beneath the sheets.

Nathaniel's lips curved into a slow smile. "Couldn't sleep." His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, lingering just a moment too long.

Evelyn knew that look—something was on his mind. Before she could ask, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening.

"Work?" she guessed.

"Samuel," he confirmed, exhaling sharply. "There's an issue with the Summit Realty deal."

Evelyn sat up, frowning. "I thought everything was finalized?"

"So did I." Nathaniel swung his legs over the edge of the bed, already reaching for his shirt. "Edward's pulling some last-minute demands."

She watched as he dressed with quick, efficient movements, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable. The Summit Realty acquisition had been months in the making, and Nathaniel had invested too much to let it slip away now.

"Need me to come with you?" she offered.

He paused, turning back to her. The hardness in his gaze softened slightly. "No, stay. You have that meeting with Gregory, remember?"

Right. The new project proposal. Evelyn nodded, though unease prickled at her. Something about the way Nathaniel had looked at his phone...

As if reading her thoughts, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry. I'll handle it."

She forced a smile. "I know you will."

But the moment the door closed behind him, Evelyn reached for her own phone. A quick scroll through her messages revealed nothing unusual—just a reminder from Gabrielle about their afternoon meeting.

Yet the knot in her stomach refused to loosen.

The Martin Group offices hummed with subdued energy when Nathaniel arrived. Samuel was already waiting, his usual composed demeanor frayed at the edges.

"Edward's lawyers just sent over revised terms," Samuel said without preamble, handing Nathaniel a folder. "They're pushing for a higher stake."

Nathaniel flipped through the documents, his jaw tightening. "He's testing me."

Samuel hesitated. "There's more. Isabella Davis called. Twice."

Nathaniel's fingers stilled. "What did she want?"

"She wouldn't say. Just insisted it was urgent."

A muscle ticked in Nathaniel's jaw. Isabella had been silent for months—why reach out now?

"Tell her I'm busy," he said coldly.

Samuel nodded, but his expression was uneasy. "Sir... she mentioned Evelyn."

Nathaniel's head snapped up. "What about her?"

"That's all she said. Just that it concerned Evelyn."

The air in the office grew thick, charged with unspoken tension. Nathaniel's grip on the folder tightened.

"Get her on the phone."

Evelyn's meeting with Gregory had just ended when her phone buzzed. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

Frowning, she answered. "Hello?"

"Is this Evelyn Mitchell?" A woman's voice, smooth and calculated.

"Yes. Who is this?"

A pause. Then, laughter—soft, almost mocking. "Oh, you really don't know? I thought Nathaniel would have mentioned me by now."

Ice trickled down Evelyn's spine. "Isabella."

Another laugh. "Bingo. We need to talk. About your husband... and the secrets he's keeping from you."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her phone. "What do you want?"

"Meet me. Tonight. Alone." Isabella's voice dropped to a whisper. "Or you'll never know the truth."

The line went dead.

Evelyn stood frozen, the echo of Isabella's words ringing in her ears.

Secrets.

What had Nathaniel been hiding?

"What exactly are you implying? Does he believe my painting is counterfeit as well?" Evelyn let out a bitter laugh, her gaze distant, though a deep, unspoken sorrow flickered in her eyes.

"Does he truly love Isabella that much?" The thought twisted in her chest.

Edward noticed the shadow of pain in Evelyn's expression, but his tone remained sharp. "Whose idea was it to invite Ms. Davis to my birthday celebration? I don't recall her name being on the guest list."

His words struck like a blade. Tears pooled in Isabella's eyes, her face a portrait of wounded innocence.

"Grandfather, I know you adore Evelyn, and you're upset that Audrey exposed her deception. I don’t wish to embarrass Evelyn either, but if she was bold enough to deceive, shouldn’t she face the consequences? Or does your affection for her mean the rest of us must turn a blind eye?"

"Isabella, mind your tone with Grandfather." Nathaniel's expression darkened. He shot Isabella a warning glance before addressing Edward. "Grandfather, she didn’t mean any harm."

Edward scoffed. "Oh? So now you’re siding with an outsider to lecture me?"

"Grandfather—"

"Enough!" Edward snapped, his piercing gaze locking onto Isabella. "Ms. Davis, are you attempting to educate me on propriety?"

Richard and Victoria chimed in, their voices laced with suspicion. "Ms. Davis, what exactly are you playing at?"

"Isabella, apologize to Grandfather," Nathaniel commanded.

Though his words seemed chastising, everyone present knew he was shielding her.

Isabella pressed her lips into a thin line. "Nathaniel, I’ve done nothing wrong. I won’t apologize. The fault lies with Evelyn—she’s the one who should be begging for forgiveness."

Nathaniel’s expression turned stormy, the tension in the room thickening like fog.

The guests, all influential figures in the business world, exchanged hushed whispers. Though they respected—and feared—the Martins, murmurs began to circulate. Some accused the family of bullying Isabella. If Evelyn had deceived Edward with a forgery, shouldn’t she admit her mistake? It wasn’t fair to dismiss it simply because Edward favored her.

Evelyn’s lips pressed together. She had remained silent, unwilling to disrupt Edward’s celebration.

But now, she couldn’t stay quiet—not when these people were dragging the Martin name through the mud. They could blame her all they wanted, but not Edward, not the Martins.

Evelyn turned to Isabella and Audrey, her voice steady but edged with steel. "So, you genuinely believe this painting is fake?"

"Isn’t it?" Audrey lifted her chin defiantly.

Evelyn didn’t respond immediately, her gaze boring into Isabella instead.

Isabella’s eyes darted away, but she maintained her composure. "Evelyn, I understand you wanted to make Grandfather happy. No one would fault you for failing to acquire the original. But shouldn’t you own up to your mistake? An apology would go a long way."

Evelyn smirked. "So, if I apologize, all will be forgiven?"

"Of course. Admit your error, make amends, and Grandfather won’t hold it against you. Neither will anyone else."

"How generous of you, Ms. Davis."

Then, Evelyn’s expression shifted. She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. "Grandfather, an old friend of mine wishes to extend his birthday greetings. Would you like to see his message?"

"Absolutely! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine." Edward grinned, as though the authenticity of the painting no longer mattered.

But William and Margaret were displeased. Margaret snapped, "Evelyn, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve? Apologize to Grandfather and everyone here at once. Are you determined to humiliate the entire Mitchell family?"

"I haven’t even spoken yet. Why so impatient? You may not know Evelyn, but I do," Edward retorted, his sharp glare silencing the room.

Evelyn’s heart swelled with warmth, a faint smile touching her lips.

Though Nathaniel didn’t believe her, the Martins had given her something rare—a sense of belonging, of protection.

She squeezed Edward’s arm gently. "Grandfather, don’t let them upset you. Sit down, please."

Then, she projected the video from her phone onto the large screen and pressed play.

"Mr. Martin, greetings. Julian Mercer here. Happy birthday! This painting was, in fact, taken from me by Evelyn. She said she wanted to gift it to her beloved grandfather. I had the pleasure of meeting you years ago and know you’re my greatest admirer. This piece is from my private collection, and I’d never part with it—except for Evelyn. Wishing you a splendid celebration, and I hope we can meet soon for a game of chess. She tells me you’re quite the opponent."

The video ended, but the impact lingered.

Most attendees recognized the man in the footage.

"That was Julian Mercer!" someone exclaimed. "The painting might be questioned, but you can’t fake a person. Why would anyone spread such rumors about Ms. Mitchell?"

The tide of opinion shifted instantly. Those who had been fueling the flames moments ago now backtracked hastily.

William and Margaret frowned. "Evelyn, you should have clarified earlier. You could’ve spared Grandfather this distress."

"Who said I’m distressed? I’m delighted," Edward interjected, irritation lacing his tone. He turned to Evelyn, his voice warm. "Evelyn, you’ve arranged for me to meet my idol! You know Julian personally and didn’t tell me? We must invite him for dinner."

"Of course. Next time I see him, I’ll extend the invitation. I doubt he’ll stand a chance against you in chess."

Edward chuckled, his joy palpable.

Then, someone voiced the lingering question. "Ms. Davis claimed her painting was genuine, but Ms. Mitchell’s has been verified. What does that make Ms. Davis’s?"

Audrey and Isabella tensed visibly.

Edward spoke coolly. "Ms. Davis, you and your friend have wronged Evelyn. Don’t you owe her an apology? Frankly, I couldn’t care less about your painting’s authenticity—nor will the Martins."

If they didn’t like it, it held no value to him.

Audrey’s parents swiftly intervened, scolding her before offering hurried apologies and dragging her away.

Isabella stood frozen, desperation creeping into her expression. Her eyes locked onto Nathaniel. "Nathaniel, I swear, I had no idea. I was deceived. I exhausted every resource to acquire it, but those people—they tricked me!"

Tears streamed down her face.

Nathaniel’s expression remained unreadable, his handsome features carved from ice.

Before he could speak, Evelyn cut in. "So, Ms. Davis, being scammed absolves you of accountability?"

"Evelyn... I truly was. Why are you being so hostile? Why must you humiliate me?"

"Now you’re blaming me, Ms. Davis?" Evelyn’s smile was razor-thin.

"Nathaniel, please," Isabella whimpered, clutching his sleeve. "Tell them the truth. I don’t understand how this happened. My head—it’s throbbing again. I can’t breathe. I feel ill."

Nathaniel’s brow furrowed. "Grandfather, Isabella didn’t act maliciously. I apologize on her behalf. Please, don’t be angry."

"Nathaniel, if Ms. Davis is at fault, she should apologize herself. Is she exempt from accountability?"

Evelyn met Nathaniel’s gaze squarely as she posed the question.