Chapter 77

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our penthouse, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. I stretched beneath the silk sheets, my fingers brushing against the cold, empty space beside me. Nathaniel had already left for his early meeting at Martin Group headquarters.

My phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Gabrielle's name flashed across the screen with three missed calls. Before I could react, it rang again.

"Evelyn! Thank God you're awake," Gabrielle's voice crackled with urgency. "The client from Summit Realty is waiting at the office. They moved the presentation up by two hours."

I bolted upright, sheets tangling around my legs. "What? That's impossible! The models aren't even finished being printed yet."

"I know, but Sebastian Wilson just stormed in with his entire team. They're demanding to see the revised waterfront development plans now."

My bare feet hit the cool floor as I scrambled toward the walk-in closet. "Stall them. Offer coffee, pastries, anything. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

The shower spray barely had time to warm before I was twisting my damp hair into a professional bun. My fingers trembled as I buttoned the tailored navy blazer Nathaniel had gifted me last month. The elevator ride down to the garage felt interminable.

Traffic crawled along the financial district. I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, mentally rearranging my presentation points. My phone buzzed again - this time a text from Nathaniel: Heard about Summit's ambush. Sending Samuel with the prototype you left at home last night.

Relief flooded through me. Of course he'd remember. I'd been working on that miniature model until 2 AM, long after he'd fallen asleep with his reading glasses still on.

The elevator doors opened to chaos. Half a dozen unfamiliar suits clustered around our reception area, while Gabrielle frantically refilled a coffee carafe. Sebastian Wilson stood apart from his team, examining our framed blueprints with a critical eye.

"Mr. Wilson," I extended my hand with practiced calm. "What an unexpected pleasure."

His grip was firm, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Ms. Mitchell. We had some... scheduling conflicts come up. Hope this isn't too inconvenient."

Before I could respond, the elevator dinged again. Samuel emerged, impeccably dressed as always, carrying the carefully wrapped model under one arm. He nodded discreetly to me before addressing Sebastian. "Mr. Wilson, Mr. Martin sends his regards. He thought you might appreciate seeing the latest iterations in person."

Sebastian's eyebrows lifted. "Nathaniel Martin is involved in this project?"

"Not officially," I interjected smoothly. "But as my husband, he occasionally offers... creative consultation."

The tension in the room shifted palpably. Sebastian's posture straightened, his gaze reassessing me with new interest. "Shall we begin the presentation then? I'm eager to see what the famous Martin touch has contributed."

As I led the group toward the conference room, Gabrielle caught my elbow. "Vanessa called three times while you were en route," she whispered. "Isabella's apparently throwing some charity gala next month and wants you to design the venue."

I nearly tripped over my own feet. Isabella Davis, Nathaniel's ex-fiancée, hadn't spoken to me since our wedding. Why now? And why me?

The answer hit me as I arranged my materials at the head of the conference table. This wasn't about architecture. This was a move in whatever game Isabella was playing. And judging by the predatory gleam in Sebastian's eyes as he took his seat, I was about to be pulled into multiple battles at once.

The morning sunlight no longer felt warm. It felt like a spotlight.

Silence. That was all she received in return.

Evelyn sensed something was wrong immediately. "Nathaniel," she said softly, "I believe you. Tell me what really happened."

Nathaniel's lips pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes locked onto Isabella. His heart sank like a stone.

See now, Evelyn? she thought bitterly. This is who he truly cares about. Stop deluding yourself.

Drawing a deep breath, Evelyn spoke quietly. "Nathaniel, whether you believe me or not, I didn’t throw myself down those stairs. Isabella pushed me. But of course, you’ll take her word over mine. Nothing I say has ever mattered to you."

Without waiting for a response, she turned to Victoria. "Victoria, I want to go back to Pineview Villa. I’m fine—don’t worry about me. Today was supposed to be Edward’s birthday, and yet everything somehow became about me. I’m sorry."

Victoria’s expression softened. "Don’t be ridiculous, child. You’re family. Richard, Edward, and I all stand with you." She shot Nathaniel a sharp look. "Take her home."

"No," Evelyn refused instantly. "I’ll go alone."

She threw off the covers and stood, her movements quick and decisive. She didn’t spare Nathaniel another glance.

Watching her pale, defiant face, Nathaniel’s expression darkened further, his brows knitting together.

As Evelyn drove away from Martin Manor, the emptiness in her chest expanded. She had known Nathaniel’s favoritism toward Isabella, yet she had still foolishly sought his validation.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

One year of marriage, and not an ounce of trust. How pathetic.

"Evelyn Mitchell," she whispered to herself, "you’re a fool."

Back at the manor, Victoria glared at Nathaniel. "What is wrong with you? Has Isabella cast some spell over you? You trust her over your own wife?"

Nathaniel remained silent, his face unreadable. Victoria, too furious to speak, stormed off after shooting him several withering looks.

Nathaniel stood motionless for a long moment, Isabella’s beautiful face haunting his thoughts. He knew exactly what she was capable of.

After a tense silence, he left the room and sought out Winston, demanding to see the security footage near the pool.

The recording made his jaw tighten, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

Without hesitation, he deleted the footage and headed for the garage.

"Nathaniel, are you leaving? Could you give me a ride?"

Isabella’s soft, pleading voice reached him just as he was about to get into his car.

He turned to see her approaching, Audrey trailing behind her. Isabella’s hopeful gaze locked onto his, waiting.

Nathaniel said nothing, his expression blank.

His silence sent a ripple of panic through Isabella, though she forced herself to remain composed.

As other guests began to leave, witnessing the awkward exchange, Isabella felt her pride crumbling. She released Audrey’s hand and stepped forward. "Nathaniel, why won’t you answer me?"

She turned to Audrey. "Go ahead. I’ll leave with Nathaniel."

Audrey nodded, flashing Nathaniel a polite smile. "Mr. Martin, make sure she gets home safely."

Still, Nathaniel gave no response. Audrey left quickly, discomfort evident in her hurried steps.

Isabella swallowed hard. "Nathaniel, what’s wrong?"

"Call your manager to pick you up."

His voice was ice. He barely glanced at her before sliding into his car and driving away.

Isabella stood frozen, disbelief turning her cheeks pale.

The whispers started immediately.

"Looks like Isabella isn’t as close to Mr. Martin as she claims."

"Did you see how cold he was? It’s obvious he doesn’t care for her."

"The Martins clearly prefer Evelyn. I doubt Isabella will ever marry into that family."

Their words, deliberately loud enough for her to hear, made her fists clench.

This was all Evelyn’s fault. She must have poisoned Nathaniel against her.

Forced to call Vanessa for a ride, Isabella seethed—until she spotted Sophia approaching.

The two women locked eyes, hostility crackling between them.

Sophia’s voice was dripping with disdain. "Isabella, don’t you know Nathaniel is married? Your desperation is disgusting."

Isabella smirked. "Oh? And what about your feelings for him? Don’t pretend you aren’t jealous of Evelyn. How does it feel to want a man who’s now your brother-in-law?"

Sophia’s composure flickered, but she lifted her chin. "Unlike you, I have boundaries. If you hurt my sister, the Mitchells won’t let it slide."

Isabella laughed coldly. "Your sister? Please. We both know how your family treats her. You stole everything from her—you are the real betrayer."

Sophia’s face went rigid.

As Isabella walked away, Sophia stood frozen, her mind flooded with memories she’d tried to bury.

The truth was a blade, and it cut deep.