Chapter 154

The moment Evelyn stepped into the grand hall of the Martin estate, the weight of Nathaniel’s absence pressed heavily on her shoulders. The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the marble floors, but the opulence did nothing to ease the storm brewing inside her.

She had spent the last few hours poring over blueprints in her office, trying to distract herself from the gnawing uncertainty. But now, standing in the heart of the Martin family’s domain, she couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

"Evelyn," a familiar voice called. She turned to see Isabella Davis gliding toward her, her crimson dress swaying with each step. The sight of Nathaniel’s ex-lover sent a sharp pang through Evelyn’s chest.

"Isabella," Evelyn replied, forcing a polite smile. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

Isabella’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Oh, I’m always around when Nathaniel needs me."

The implication hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Evelyn clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She wouldn’t let Isabella get under her skin—not tonight.

Before she could respond, Samuel Yates, Nathaniel’s ever-efficient secretary, appeared at her side. "Mrs. Martin, Mr. Martin has requested your presence in the study."

Evelyn exhaled slowly. "Thank you, Samuel."

As she followed him down the corridor, her mind raced. What did Nathaniel want? Was it about the rumors swirling around Isabella’s sudden reappearance in his life? Or was it something else entirely?

The study door creaked open, revealing Nathaniel standing by the fireplace, his expression unreadable. The flickering flames cast shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more imposing than usual.

"You wanted to see me?" Evelyn asked, stepping inside.

Nathaniel turned to face her, his dark eyes piercing. "We need to talk."

The gravity in his voice sent a chill down her spine. Whatever he was about to say, she knew it would change everything.

And just like that, the storm inside her broke loose.

Evelyn had managed to steady her emotions while waiting outside, but Nathaniel's dismissive demeanor reignited her frustration. Clenching her fists, she forced herself to speak calmly. "Nathaniel, why are you doing this? This project isn't just about me. Summit Realty depends on it to sustain its employees this year. If you pull out now, your company will suffer losses too."

His expression remained unreadable, his voice chillingly detached. "There's no 'why.' I simply no longer find this venture worthwhile."

No longer worthwhile. The words echoed in her mind, sharp as knives.

She studied the man before her—so familiar yet impossibly distant. He stood mere feet away, yet an uncrossable chasm stretched between them.

Nathaniel continued, indifferent. "Your partners' struggles aren't my concern. We're divorcing, after all. As for Summit Realty—if it can't survive, it shouldn't. But the project won't die. The Martin Group will simply find new partners to complete it."

Evelyn's breath caught.

New partners? That would publicly humiliate both her and Summit Realty, branding them as failures. She could endure the personal blow, but her company didn’t deserve this.

Her patience snapped. "Mr. Martin, we’re halfway through this collaboration. If you’re sabotaging it because I filed for divorce, isn’t that turning personal grievances into professional retaliation? Just because I want out of this marriage, must you destroy me?"

The formal address—Mr. Martin—made his icy demeanor turn glacial.

"You’re imagining things," Nathaniel said, his gaze frigid. "I merely agree with one thing you said. Once divorce is decided, we should cut all ties."

That’s what this is about.

Evelyn stared at his striking features, now so cold they might as well have been carved from marble. She pressed her lips together briefly before responding, her voice steady. "You're right. Once we’re divorced, we should never cross paths again. So sign the papers, Nathaniel. Let’s set a date to finalize this."

Her composure only stoked the storm in his eyes.

Nathaniel’s gaze locked onto hers, sharp enough to pierce. "Even now, you won’t reconsider?"

A bitter laugh nearly escaped her. "What, is this all because I won’t back down? Your actions make it seem like you’re in love with me. But your heart was never truly mine. I don’t understand you—one moment, you act devoted, the next, utterly ruthless. This marriage is torture."

She exhaled, too weary to argue further. "Just tell me—when will you sign?"