Chapter 143

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the bedroom as Evelyn stirred awake. Beside her, Nathaniel slept soundly, his breathing steady. She studied his face—the sharp angles of his jaw, the faint scar near his temple from a childhood accident. Even in sleep, he exuded an air of quiet authority.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory: "Meeting moved to 10 AM. The client wants revisions."

Evelyn sighed. Another last-minute change. She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Nathaniel, and padded to the ensuite bathroom. The cool tiles beneath her feet grounded her as she splashed water on her face.

Downstairs, Alfred had already set out breakfast—fresh fruit, a steaming pot of coffee, and warm croissants. "Good morning, Mrs. Martin," he greeted with a slight bow.

"Morning, Alfred," she murmured, pouring herself a cup of coffee. The rich aroma filled her senses, momentarily easing the tension in her shoulders.

The front door opened, and Isabella strode in, her designer heels clicking against the marble floor. She wore a fitted blazer and dark sunglasses, her lips painted a bold red. "Evelyn," she said, removing her shades. "We need to talk."

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her mug. "About?"

Isabella smirked. "Nathaniel, of course."

A chill ran down Evelyn’s spine. She forced herself to remain composed. "Whatever you have to say, make it quick. I have a meeting."

Isabella leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He’s keeping secrets from you. Big ones."

Before Evelyn could respond, Nathaniel’s voice cut through the tension. "Isabella." He stood at the top of the staircase, his expression unreadable. "What are you doing here?"

Isabella straightened, her smirk widening. "Just catching up with your wife."

Nathaniel descended the stairs, his gaze never leaving Isabella. "Leave."

The command was sharp, final. Isabella hesitated, then shrugged. "Fine. But Evelyn deserves to know the truth." With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Silence settled over the room. Evelyn turned to Nathaniel. "What was that about?"

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Nothing important. Just her usual games."

Evelyn studied him. There was something in his eyes—something guarded. "Nathaniel," she pressed. "If there’s something I should know—"

He cupped her face, cutting her off. "Trust me."

The words should have reassured her. But as she looked into his eyes, all she felt was doubt.

Her phone buzzed again. Gregory: "Where are you? The client’s here."

Evelyn stepped back. "I have to go."

Nathaniel nodded. "We’ll talk tonight."

As she grabbed her bag and headed for the door, one thought echoed in her mind: What is he hiding?

The drive to the office was a blur. When she arrived, Gregory was pacing outside the conference room. "Finally," he muttered. "They’re waiting."

Evelyn took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Inside, the client—Jonathan Blake from Summit Realty—sat with his arms crossed. "About time," he said, glancing at his watch.

She forced a smile. "Apologies for the delay. Let’s get started."

But as the meeting progressed, Evelyn’s mind kept drifting back to Isabella’s words. Secrets.

And the unsettling feeling that her perfect life was about to unravel.

Nathaniel gave a curt nod. "Understood. I'll look into it immediately."

With that, he turned to leave the boardroom.

Sebastian spoke up again. "What did Isabella want?"

Nathaniel paused briefly before answering, "She asked when you'd be available to accompany her to her therapy session. I informed her you were in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. Anything urgent would have to wait."

Sebastian's expression remained unreadable, his voice low and rough. "Fine."

Samuel studied him for a moment before Nathaniel asked, "Did you reach my mother?"

"I did, but she said—"

"What?"

"She said you should deal with your own wife yourself." Samuel risked his job delivering that message.

Nathaniel's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as silence stretched between them.

Samuel took the hint and swiftly exited, leaving Nathaniel alone in the vast, empty room.

Evelyn's cold, unyielding words echoed in his mind. He had never seen her so ruthless before—her usual gentleness had been nothing but a facade.

The realization made his handsome face turn stormy. His lips pressed into a thin line, his entire body tense as a drawn bowstring, as if he might shatter at any moment.

He remained seated there for what felt like hours until Samuel knocked again, this time with an urgent report.

After ending the call with Nathaniel, Evelyn sat in silence for a long while before forcing herself back to work.

But barely ten minutes later, her phone buzzed again.

She frowned, then immediately answered when she saw the caller ID. "Victoria?"

"Evelyn, are you busy?"

"Not at all. What’s wrong?"

"You haven’t visited the Martin estate in days. Edward’s been worried, so he asked me to invite you to lunch—just the two of us."

Evelyn checked the time. "Of course. What would you like? I’ll make reservations."

"No need for formalities between family. I’ll wait downstairs at your office. Once you’re done, we’ll grab lunch and maybe do some shopping?"

Evelyn’s frown softened into reluctant amusement. Mostly, though, she felt warmth.

Because Victoria treated her with the kindness of a real mother—the kind Evelyn had always wished for.

Of course, she wouldn’t make Victoria wait outside. She immediately instructed Gabrielle to escort her upstairs.

Victoria, ever thoughtful, had come prepared. Knowing Evelyn wouldn’t let her linger, she brought along gourmet pastries and artisanal coffee—all trending recommendations from influencers.

Since Evelyn’s team was young and lively, they were thrilled by the treats. "Thank you, Mrs. Martin!"

"Just call me Victoria," she said warmly. "And thank you for supporting Evelyn so well. Your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed."

Her genuine, down-to-earth demeanor instantly won them over.

Gabrielle then guided her to Evelyn’s office. As they passed Gregory’s door, Victoria caught his gaze—cold and indifferent—but she still offered a polite smile and nod.

Quietly, she asked, "Who’s that?"

Gabrielle followed her glance. "Mr. Wilson. He’s Ms. Mitchell’s business partner and co-founder."