Chapter 79

The moment I stepped into the grand hall of the Martin estate, the weight of Nathaniel’s absence pressed down on me. The chandeliers glittered overhead, casting golden light over the marble floors, but the opulence did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.

"Evelyn."

I turned to find Edward Martin standing by the fireplace, his sharp gaze assessing me. The patriarch of the Martin family had always been an imposing figure, but tonight, there was something different in his expression—something unreadable.

"Mr. Martin," I greeted, forcing a polite smile.

"You look troubled," he observed, his voice low.

I hesitated. How much did he know? Nathaniel had been distant for days, ever since Isabella had resurfaced in his life. The woman who had once held his heart now threatened to unravel everything we had built.

Before I could respond, the doors swung open, and Nathaniel strode in, his presence commanding the room. His dark suit accentuated his broad shoulders, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—were cold, distant.

"Evelyn," he acknowledged me with a curt nod before turning to his grandfather. "We need to talk."

Edward’s lips thinned. "Not here."

The tension between them was palpable, and I clenched my fists at my sides. Whatever was happening, I was being shut out—again.

Isabella chose that moment to make her entrance, her crimson dress clinging to her curves, her smile dripping with false sweetness. "Nathaniel," she purred, brushing past me as if I were invisible.

A muscle ticked in Nathaniel’s jaw, but he didn’t push her away.

My stomach twisted.

"Excuse me," I murmured, turning on my heel before I could witness whatever would happen next.

The gardens outside were quiet, the night air cool against my flushed skin. I exhaled shakily, my breath forming a mist in the crisp air.

"Running away?"

I stiffened at the familiar voice. Vanessa, Isabella’s ever-loyal agent, leaned against a stone pillar, smirking.

"Just getting some air," I replied evenly.

She pushed off the pillar, stepping closer. "You know, it’s only a matter of time before he realizes he never stopped loving her."

I met her gaze, refusing to flinch. "And you’re here to deliver the message?"

Vanessa shrugged. "Just stating facts."

Before I could retort, my phone buzzed. A message from Gregory: We have a problem. The Summit Realty deal is falling apart. Call me.

My heart sank. Another crisis.

I glanced back at the estate, where Nathaniel stood framed in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

One thing was clear—I couldn’t rely on him anymore.

Not when Isabella was back in the picture.

And not when everything I’d fought for was crumbling around me.

Caroline's question darkened Evelyn's expression.

Truth be told, Nathaniel had touched her belly before—not realizing she was pregnant, merely thinking she'd gained weight. His fingers had lingered, tracing the soft curve as he murmured, "I like this. It's comforting."

Even as their relationship cooled in recent days, his hand always found its way to her waist by morning.

If only he'd paid closer attention, he might have noticed the changes. But his heart had never truly been hers, so he remained oblivious.

"Maybe we'll have parted ways before it becomes impossible to hide," Evelyn replied flatly. "Why complicate things now?"

The one not loved—everything they do is an annoyance anyway, she thought bitterly.

Meanwhile, in another Mayby-owned building, Isabella was dragged to the company at dawn by Vanessa. The past few days had been rough. The entertainment industry was ruthless—one misstep, and vultures circled.

Vanessa slid an invitation across the table. "Dinner tonight with the sponsor. Secure this, and your new song's disastrous rollout might recover."

"No." Isabella didn't hesitate. "Vincent Rossi is revolting. I'd rather starve."

The humiliation from Edward Martin's birthday still stung, but she refused to debase herself further.

Vanessa's patience frayed. "Isabella, we need this. It's just dinner. I'll be there the whole time."

"I'm the 'girl next door,'" Isabella snapped. "What if paparazzi catch me with that creep?"

A tense silence fell. Vanessa inhaled sharply—Isabella was her golden goose, but even geese could be plucked.

Finally, Vanessa leaned in, voice honeyed. "These past days, the entire industry's laughed at you. And Nathaniel? Radio silence. Is this really how you want things?"

Isabella stiffened.

She had reached out to Nathaniel, but his responses were tepid. Was it the birthday fiasco? Something Evelyn said? Nothing she tried worked.

Her nails dug into her palms. "What do you suggest?"

Vanessa whispered her plan. Isabella's eyes gleamed. "Just making him jealous is boring. I want everyone who mocked me to see how much he cares."

Vanessa opened her mouth—then closed it. Some battles weren't worth fighting.

That evening, Isabella arrived at the sponsor's chosen restaurant.

Vincent's gaze crawled over her. "Ms. Davis, exquisite as ever. I do hope we can... align our interests."

The implication hung thick.

Isabella's smile stayed plastered as his secretary simpered, "Mr. Rossi is very generous to those who please him. A collaboration would be... mutually beneficial."

Vanessa jumped in. "We're honored by your interest, Mr. Rossi!"

Isabella sipped her wine, seething. Even with her modest fame, capital demanded kneeling.

To mask her disgust, Vanessa kept her drinking. Glass after glass, until Isabella's head spun.

Then—the cue.

Vanessa excused herself, dialing Nathaniel. "Mr. Martin, it's Vanessa. Apologies for the late call."

His voice was ice. "What?"

"Isabella's drunk. Could you fetch her? With her image right now, if paparazzi catch her like this..."

"That's your job." He sounded ready to hang up.

Panicked, Vanessa glimpsed through the door—Vincent's hand sliding up Isabella's shoulder. "Mr. Martin, please. The sponsor's getting handsy. I'm scared he'll—"

A beat of silence.

Then: "Location."

She rattled off the address. "We'll wait outside."

Nathaniel stood by the bedroom window, phone clenched. The call left him unsettled.

The bathroom door opened. Evelyn emerged, towel-drying her hair.

"Going out?" she asked absently.

His jaw tightened. Her recent coldness made the lie stick in his throat. "Thomas set up an urgent meeting."

"Mm."

Gathering his coat, he left Pineview Villa, unease coiling in his gut. Why had he lied?

The truth would upset her—make her withdraw further. These days with her had revealed a side of Evelyn he didn't recognize: distant, untouchable. And he hated it.

At the restaurant, Nathaniel parked but didn't exit.

Vanessa half-dragged Isabella outside, two men hovering.

Then—Vincent reached for Isabella.

Nathaniel slammed the car door.

Vanessa waved frantically. "Mr. Martin!"

Isabella's head lifted. Seeing him, she wrenched free and stumbled forward, collapsing against his chest.

He caught her automatically.

Her arms locked around his waist, face buried in his shirt. "Nathaniel," she slurred, voice thick with tears. "You've ignored me for weeks. Are you angry with me?"