Chapter 195

The moment Evelyn stepped into the grand hall of the Martin estate, she felt the weight of countless eyes on her. The air was thick with tension, a stark contrast to the elegant chandeliers and the soft murmur of classical music playing in the background.

Nathaniel stood by the marble fireplace, his expression unreadable. His fingers tightened around the crystal glass in his hand, the amber liquid inside catching the dim light. Across the room, Isabella—dressed in a sleek black gown that accentuated every curve—flashed him a knowing smile.

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. She had known this evening would be difficult, but she hadn’t anticipated the sheer hostility radiating from Isabella’s direction.

Gregory, ever the perceptive one, leaned in. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of conversation.

She forced a smile. "Just peachy."

But she wasn’t. Not when every glance from Nathaniel’s former lover felt like a challenge. Not when she could still hear the whispers—She’s not good enough for him. She’ll never fit in.

Then, as if on cue, Isabella glided toward them, her heels clicking against the polished floor. "Evelyn," she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "How lovely to see you again."

Evelyn met her gaze evenly. "Isabella. You look… striking."

A flicker of irritation crossed Isabella’s face before she masked it with another smile. "Oh, darling, you’re too kind." She turned to Nathaniel, her fingers brushing his arm. "Nathaniel, darling, you simply must introduce me to your grandfather. I’ve heard so much about him."

Evelyn’s jaw clenched. The audacity.

Nathaniel’s expression darkened, but before he could respond, Edward Martin himself appeared, his sharp eyes assessing the scene. "Ah, there you are," he said, his voice carrying the weight of decades of authority. "I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about your old grandfather."

Isabella’s smile faltered for a split second before she recovered. "Mr. Martin, it’s an honor."

Edward barely spared her a glance before turning to Evelyn. "And you, my dear, must tell me about your latest project. I’ve heard fascinating things."

The shift in the room was palpable. Isabella’s face flushed with barely concealed fury, while Evelyn fought the urge to smirk.

Game on.

As the evening wore on, the tension only grew. Every whispered conversation, every exchanged glance, felt like another move in a high-stakes chess match. And Evelyn? She wasn’t about to lose.

Not to Isabella.

Not to anyone.

Nathaniel reacted instantly, his brows knitting together in disapproval. "Evelyn," he said in a tone that brooked no argument, "you shouldn't have hit Isabella. Apologize to her."

The demand made Evelyn laugh bitterly.

"Why should I?" she countered, crossing her arms. "She was being nosy and intrusive. She deserved it."

"Evelyn, apologize."

"Not happening."

"Evelyn!"

Nathaniel's voice was sharp, his patience visibly thinning. His dark eyes bore into hers, simmering with displeasure.

She scoffed. "Would you even consider calling off the divorce if I did?"

He didn’t move, his expression hardening. "Is it so impossible for you to set this aside, even today?"

Today was his birthday.

Evelyn froze.

The commotion had drawn the others outside. Sensing the tension, they quickly intervened, trying to separate the two. But Nathaniel remained rooted in place, his gaze never leaving Evelyn’s face.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice eerily calm. "You’re truly cruel, Evelyn."

Thomas and the others pulled Nathaniel inside, with Isabella trailing behind. Theodore stayed back, motioning for two girls to keep Evelyn company.

"Mrs. Martin," one of them said gently, "couples fight all the time. Just talk it out. Divorce isn’t the answer."

Evelyn didn’t respond. She just stood there, her expression stormy.

Eventually, she exhaled sharply. "I’m fine. Thank you. I’d like to be alone."

The two girls exchanged glances before nodding and heading inside.

Left by herself, Evelyn sank onto the stone bench in the garden, Nathaniel’s words echoing in her mind.

For some reason, in that moment, his eyes had looked unbearably lonely.

She frowned, trying to shake off the heaviness in her chest, but it clung to her like a shadow.

That night, Nathaniel, Thomas, and the others played cards until dawn. Evelyn stayed outside for a while before retreating to her room.

When she woke the next morning, only Theodore and two other girls remained in the villa. The rest had already returned to Mayby.

After breakfast, Theodore pulled his car around to wait for Evelyn, while the other two were sent back in a separate vehicle.

The drive was silent at first. Then Theodore spoke up. "Did you and Nathaniel argue last night?"

Evelyn smirked. "It wasn’t an argument."

Theodore chuckled but didn’t press further. "Sometimes, what we see isn’t the whole truth. People do things for reasons we might not understand."

Evelyn turned to him, puzzled. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing in particular," he said lightly. "Just thinking out loud."

But his words lingered in her mind like a riddle. Was he hinting at something about Nathaniel? That his actions weren’t as straightforward as they seemed?

She shook her head. No, Theodore had said he was just musing. It probably meant nothing.

Theodore dropped her off at her apartment, and as soon as she stepped inside, Gabrielle called.

"Ms. Mitchell," Gabrielle said urgently, "Summit Realty’s representatives are here. They’re demanding to know when the project will resume."

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. "We can’t proceed without the Martins’ approval. We have to wait."

But Gabrielle hesitated. "They’re threatening to halt all our other projects if we don’t give them an answer."

Evelyn’s expression darkened. They were backing her into a corner.

After a tense pause, she replied, "I’ll contact Mr. Martin. Tell them aggression won’t solve anything. We need to find a solution, not a fight."