Chapter 89

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of our penthouse, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. I stretched beneath the silk sheets, my fingers brushing against the empty space where Nathaniel should have been. The digital clock on the nightstand blinked 7:32 AM in bold red numbers.

"Alfred?" I called out, my voice still thick with sleep.

The door opened immediately, revealing our ever-efficient butler. "Good morning, Mrs. Martin. Mr. Martin left for the office two hours ago. He asked me to inform you that the board meeting was moved up unexpectedly."

I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Of course it was." These sudden schedule changes had become more frequent since Edward Martin's health began declining. The weight of the Martin Group was shifting onto Nathaniel's shoulders faster than either of us had anticipated.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon rolls drifted through the open door. "Rosalind prepared your favorite breakfast," Alfred added with a knowing smile. "She mentioned something about needing your strength today."

As I stepped into the shower, the hot water did little to ease the tension coiling in my shoulders. Today marked the final review of the Harborview project - my first major design since joining Martin Group. The memory of Isabella Davis's smug expression at last week's presentation flashed through my mind. Her architectural firm had been the primary competitor for this contract.

My phone buzzed against the bathroom counter. A text from Gregory lit up the screen: "Emergency meeting at 9. Summit Realty changed their requirements again. Bring your A-game."

I groaned, turning off the water with more force than necessary. Summit Realty and their mercurial CEO Sebastian Wilson had been nothing but trouble since day one. Every approved design seemed to spark a dozen new "suggestions" from their team.

The walk-in closet offered too many choices. I settled on a navy Carolina Herrera pantsuit - professional but with enough feminine detailing to remind the boardroom that I wasn't just Nathaniel's wife. The diamond studs Nathaniel had given me for our anniversary caught the light as I fastened them, their cool weight a comforting reminder of his support.

Downstairs, Rosalind had indeed outdone herself. The cinnamon rolls were still warm, their icing melting slightly against my fingertips. I was halfway through my second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang.

Alfred reappeared, holding a long white box. "Delivery for you, madam."

Inside lay a single white orchid and a note in Nathaniel's precise handwriting: "For my brilliant wife. Knock them dead today. -N"

I smiled despite myself, tucking the flower into my briefcase. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed eight times. Time to face the dragons.

The elevator doors opened directly into the Martin Group executive floor. Samuel Yates stood waiting, his tablet already in hand. "Mrs. Martin, we have a situation. Summit's project manager Jonathan Blake is insisting on structural changes that would require completely reworking the west wing."

I took the tablet, scanning the new demands. "These aren't just modifications, these are entirely different load-bearing requirements." My stomach dropped as I recognized the implications. "They want to add three more floors without changing the foundation specs? That's not just difficult, it's physically impossible."

Samuel's grim expression confirmed my assessment. "Mr. Martin is already in with them. He asked me to bring you straight there when you arrived."

The conference room doors loomed ahead, their polished wood surface reflecting the tense set of my shoulders. Through the glass walls, I could see Nathaniel at the head of the table, his posture deceptively relaxed as he listened to Sebastian Wilson's animated gestures. Isabella sat to Sebastian's right, her designer glasses glinting as she nodded along.

I took a deep breath, adjusting the orchid in my lapel. Time to prove why Martin Group had chosen my design over hers.

"Of course not. She was exhausted last night. Calling this early might disturb her rest, so I answered for her."

The mention of her exhaustion drained the color from Gregory's face, leaving him speechless.

Nathaniel cut in again, his voice sharp. "Gregory, remember that Evelyn is a married woman. Do you understand the implications of your actions? If this gets out, can you still stay at Mayby? If you want to avoid humiliation, keep your distance. Even years of friendship won’t save you."

Without waiting for a response, Nathaniel ended the call abruptly.

His grip on the phone tightened, his expression composed, but his eyes were icy.

This Gregory is relentless.

He switched the phone to silent mode and left the bedroom.

Evelyn slept until half past nine, stretching as she reached for her phone. The moment she saw the screen, she bolted upright.

Multiple missed calls and WhatsApp messages—all from one person.

[Evelyn, why aren’t you answering? Are you upset about what I said last night?]

[Are you really angry?]

[You’re still coming to dinner tonight, right?]

She ran a hand through her hair and quickly replied: [Sorry, just woke up. Not upset. Of course, I’ll be there tonight.]

A relieved emoji popped up immediately: [Good. Don’t bother coming by during the day. I’ll wander around Mayby on my own. See you tonight.]

Evelyn typed: [Okay.]

Then she got out of bed.

The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out any hint of daylight. What infuriated her more was Nathaniel’s audacity to silence her phone. With a sigh, she immediately changed her password and removed his fingerprint access.

After freshening up and grabbing breakfast downstairs, she drove to the office.

She rarely arrived this late. The moment she stepped into her office, Gabrielle entered with a stack of design documents, beaming. "Ms. Mitchell, you look radiant today."

"Out with it. Do you need a day off?"

"No, I mean it. You’re glowing—like you’ve been kissed by love. Ms. Mitchell, are you in love?"

Evelyn’s expression flickered. Images from last night flashed in her mind, warmth creeping up her cheeks.

Gabrielle didn’t miss it. Her eyes widened. "Oh my god, you are in love!"

"No, I’m not."

"You are! I can see it! Who is it? Mr. Wilson? But you don’t look at him like that. Is it Mr. Martin? He and Mr. Wilson fought last time—was it over you...?"

"Gabrielle," Evelyn interrupted coolly, "do you not have work? Or are you so eager to gossip about your boss that you’d rather not keep your job?"

Evelyn wasn’t one to smile often, but when she did, it was mesmerizing. Right now, though, her face was all sharp edges and frost, radiating an unapproachable aura.

Gabrielle straightened immediately. "Ms. Mitchell, I’ve organized these documents. Once you review them, I’ll take them to Mr. Carter at the construction site."

"I’ll look them over. If there are issues, I’ll let you know."

"Understood. I’ll leave now."

Gabrielle pressed her lips together, not daring another word, and scurried out.

Evelyn watched her go, shaking her head with a faint smile. She hadn’t truly been angry—just unwilling to entertain the conversation further.

By the time she finished reviewing the designs, it was already lunchtime.

Gregory had ordered food, and they ate in her office. He didn’t mention the morning’s incident, but his gaze lingered on the faint marks on her neck. His expression darkened.

"Evelyn," he ventured, "have things improved between you and Nathaniel?"

"Why do you ask?"

Improved? How could they? He doesn’t love me. There’s nothing to improve.

Gregory didn’t press. "Just a feeling."

"You’re mistaken. He doesn’t love me. There’s no ‘improvement’ to speak of." Her voice was soft, a fleeting sadness crossing her face before she smiled. "Let’s eat. I don’t want to talk about this."

Gregory merely hummed in response.

Then her phone rang.

It lay on the coffee table, the caller ID visible to both of them. She frowned and picked up.

"Hello?"

"At the office?"

"Yes."

"You should be resting."

Nathaniel’s low, smooth voice carried implications that made her skin prickle.

"I have work," she replied evenly. "Unlike you, who can skip the office and still have someone else do your job."

"Then come to Martin Group. I’ll give you the position. How about it?"

His tone was casual, but there was no jest in it.

Evelyn blinked. "What would you do?"

"I’ll assist you. Be your secretary. What do you say, Ms. Mitchell?"

The way he purred her title sent heat rushing to her cheeks.

"I’ll think about it," she muttered.

"Think hard. Give me an answer, hmm?" Then, "Eating lunch?"

"Yes."

"What are you having?"

"Chicken."

"Alone?"

Her gaze flicked to Gregory across from her. His expression was neutral, giving nothing away. She stood and walked to the window, lowering her voice. "No. I’m having lunch with Gregory."

Silence.

Then Nathaniel’s voice turned dangerously soft. "So you’d rather eat with him than come to Martin Group and have lunch with me?"

Evelyn was baffled.

"You never asked me to," she pointed out.

"Are you saying if I did, you’d turn him down and come to me?"

It was a challenge—one that demanded a satisfactory answer.