Chapter 111

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. Her fingers flew over the blueprints as she made last-minute adjustments to the resort project. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of ink from her sketches.

Gabrielle, her assistant, burst in with a stack of files. "Evelyn, the client just called. They want to move the meeting up by two hours."

Evelyn's pen stilled. "What? That's in forty minutes!" She glanced at her watch, heart pounding. Nathaniel would kill her if she was late again. Their last argument about her workaholic tendencies still echoed in her mind.

She grabbed her blazer and dashed for the elevator. As the doors closed, her phone buzzed. Nathaniel's name flashed on the screen.

"Where are you?" His deep voice held an edge. "The car's been waiting downstairs for fifteen minutes."

"Change of plans," she panted, stepping into the lobby. "Client moved the meeting. I have to—"

"No." The single word brooked no argument. "We're having lunch with Grandfather Edward today. You promised."

Evelyn bit her lip. The black town car idled at the curb, Samuel Yates standing stiffly beside it. Across the street, a familiar blonde figure exited a boutique. Isabella. The woman paused, locking eyes with Evelyn before slipping on oversized sunglasses.

"Evelyn?" Nathaniel's voice softened. "Are you still there?"

She swallowed hard. "I'll be there in twenty."

The line went dead. As she slid into the leather seats, Evelyn couldn't shake the image of Isabella's smirk. The woman had been appearing more frequently around Martin Group properties lately. Coincidence? She doubted it.

The car pulled up to Martin Manor precisely as Evelyn finished reapplying her lipstick. Nathaniel waited at the grand entrance, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His stormy expression cleared when he saw her.

"You made it." He brushed a kiss against her temple. "Grandfather's in rare form today."

Inside the opulent dining room, Edward Martin held court at the head of the table. Victoria and Richard sat to his right, while an empty chair waited beside Nathaniel.

"Ah, Evelyn!" Edward's voice boomed. "We were just discussing your latest project. Quite ambitious for someone with your... limited experience."

Evelyn's smile tightened. She felt Nathaniel's hand squeeze hers under the table.

Before she could respond, Winston entered with a silver tray. "Mr. Martin, your two o'clock appointment has arrived early."

Edward dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin. "Show her to the drawing room."

Her? Evelyn's stomach dropped as Nathaniel stiffened beside her.

Isabella's laughter floated down the hallway moments before she appeared in the doorway, dressed in a cream sheath dress that hugged every curve. "I hope I'm not interrupting family time?" Her gaze lingered on Nathaniel before shifting to Evelyn. "Though I suppose not everyone here is family, are they?"

The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the sudden silence. Evelyn's champagne flute trembled in her hand as Nathaniel's grip on her knee turned vice-like.

Edward smiled. "Isabella, my dear, come sit by me. We have much to discuss about your new venture with Martin Holdings."

Evelyn's blood ran cold. Since when did Isabella have business dealings with the Martins? She turned to Nathaniel, but his stony profile gave nothing away.

The game had just changed. And Evelyn wasn't sure she knew the rules anymore.

Evelyn spoke with quiet resolve, "I'm not threatening you, Nathaniel. I'm simply presenting you with a choice. If you truly want children, then you must cut all ties with Isabella—completely and permanently. No more contact, no more excuses."

Nathaniel remained silent.

Evelyn already knew the answer before she even asked. Nathaniel would never fully sever his connection to Isabella, nor would he sacrifice their relationship just for her.

To Nathaniel, Evelyn was nothing more than a wife arranged by Edward.

Beyond that title, she likely meant nothing at all.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, though her voice remained steady. "Nathaniel, stop being selfish. If you want to keep playing games, find someone else. Isabella might be content being your backup, but I refuse to be part of it. I won’t pretend anymore, won’t lie to myself that you two are 'just friends.' Let’s take some time apart."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked upstairs.

She couldn’t risk staying another second—she might break down right there.

Being with Nathaniel allowed her to love him as his wife, but it also meant enduring his closeness with the woman he truly loved. She couldn’t bear it any longer.

Better to endure the sharp pain now than to lose her dignity later.

After Evelyn disappeared upstairs, Nathaniel stood frozen in place, his expression dark and unreadable. Minutes passed before he finally moved, retreating to the bedroom where Evelyn was already in bed. Instead of joining her, he sank into the nearby armchair, his piercing gaze fixed on her still form.

The memory of her revulsion haunted him. The gentle, compliant Evelyn he knew was gone, replaced by someone who recoiled from his touch. It left him unsettled.

Was her reluctance to have children really about Isabella?

Or was it just another excuse to push him away?

His jaw tightened as a storm brewed behind his eyes.

The night passed without dreams.

When Evelyn woke the next morning, Nathaniel was already gone.

She didn’t rush to get ready. Instead, she stepped onto the balcony, lingering until the sound of a car engine faded into the distance. Only then did she retreat to the bathroom.

After breakfast, she called Gabrielle. "I won’t be in the office this morning. Inform Mr. Wilson—if anything urgent comes up, he can handle it."

Moments after hanging up, a message from Gregory appeared:

[Gregory]: Evelyn, is everything alright?

[Evelyn]: Nothing to worry about.

[Gregory]: Let me know if you need anything.

[Evelyn]: I will.

She closed the chat and opened a real estate app, quickly finding a furnished apartment near her firm. From browsing to signing the lease, it took her less than an hour.

She had enough savings to buy a place outright, but she’d never needed to—until now. With the possibility of leaving permanently, buying made no sense.

Once her plans were set, she packed a single suitcase—just clothes and essentials. She couldn’t take too much. This was meant to look like a temporary separation, a cooling-off period. She had to move carefully.

By midday, she was settled into the new apartment, having stocked up on necessities. Lunch was a quick affair, and as she finished, her phone buzzed.