Chapter 197

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden streaks across her blueprints. She tapped her pen against the desk, lost in thought. The Martin Group project was nearing completion, but something felt off.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Nathaniel.

"Meeting at the penthouse. 7 PM. Wear something nice."

Evelyn arched a brow. No explanation, just a command. Typical Nathaniel.

She exhaled, glancing at the clock. Five hours to prepare.

Her assistant, Gabrielle, knocked lightly before entering. "Evelyn, Gregory is here to see you."

Evelyn nodded. "Send him in."

Gregory strode in, his usual confident demeanor slightly frayed. "We have a problem."

She straightened. "What is it?"

"The zoning permits for the waterfront project just got delayed. Again."

Evelyn groaned. "That’s the third time this month."

Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "I know. And Summit Realty is breathing down our necks. Sebastian won’t wait forever."

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. Sebastian Wilson was ruthless, and if they lost this contract, it could jeopardize everything.

"I’ll handle it," she said firmly.

Gregory gave her a skeptical look. "How?"

Evelyn smirked. "I have my ways."

At 6:45 PM, Evelyn stood before the full-length mirror in her penthouse, adjusting the emerald-green dress that hugged her curves. The fabric shimmered under the dim lighting, and she paired it with delicate diamond earrings—a gift from Nathaniel on their first anniversary.

The elevator dinged.

She turned as Nathaniel stepped out, his charcoal suit immaculate, his dark eyes sweeping over her with approval.

"You look stunning," he murmured, closing the distance between them.

Evelyn tilted her head. "You still haven’t told me what this is about."

Nathaniel smirked, sliding a hand around her waist. "Patience, darling."

Before she could press further, the doorbell rang.

Nathaniel released her. "That’ll be our guests."

Evelyn frowned. "Guests?"

He didn’t answer, striding toward the door.

When he swung it open, Evelyn’s breath caught.

Standing in the hallway was Isabella Davis, Nathaniel’s ex, her crimson lips curved in a knowing smile.

And beside her—Edward Martin, Nathaniel’s grandfather, his sharp gaze locking onto Evelyn with unsettling intensity.

Evelyn’s pulse spiked.

What the hell is going on?

"Mrs. Martin? This is Samuel." Samuel Yates sounded mildly surprised. He hadn't anticipated Evelyn reaching out to the executive office.

Evelyn, too, was taken aback for a brief moment before regaining her composure. She cut straight to the point. "Yes. The project manager from Summit Realty needs to consult Mr. Martin regarding the development. Is he available?"

Samuel, ever the consummate professional, recognized the formal tone immediately. "Mrs. Martin, I'm afraid I can't provide any updates on the project at this time. Mr. Martin is currently away on business."

"A business trip? Since when?"

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her phone.

"He left directly from the resort to Dovie. Based on the company’s itinerary, he won’t be returning to Mayby for another two days, so—"

"Understood."

Evelyn didn’t let him finish. Her voice was clipped as she ended the call.

Turning to Jonathan Blake, she exhaled sharply. "You heard him. It’s not that I’m unwilling to help—there’s simply nothing I can do. Without a response from the Martin Group, we’ll have to wait."

Jonathan had witnessed the entire exchange. Learning that Nathaniel was away, he finally relented, though not without pressing her to "do her best" to expedite matters—a thinly veiled attempt to shift the burden onto her.

Once he left, exhaustion settled over Evelyn like a heavy cloak.

She hadn’t known about Nathaniel’s trip. The realization left an odd hollowness in her chest.

Why didn’t Samuel go with him? Did he leave alone?

The questions gnawed at her. Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus on work, burying any thoughts of Nathaniel beneath stacks of blueprints and contracts.

By evening, she was drained. Charlotte wasn’t up for dining out, so Evelyn swung by Scarlett to grab takeout before heading back to her apartment.

At first, nothing seemed amiss. But as she neared her building, a flicker of movement in her rearview mirror caught her attention. A sleek black sedan trailed a few car lengths behind.

Her grip on the wheel tightened.

Am I imagining things?

To test her suspicion, she took an abrupt turn at the next intersection.

The sedan followed.

Evelyn’s pulse spiked. She accelerated, and the car behind matched her speed without hesitation.

Neither showed any sign of backing down.

Just as she prepared to make another sharp turn, a minivan barreled toward her from the opposite direction. Swerving to avoid a collision, she jerked the wheel too hard—her car veered off the road and slammed into a tree.

The impact threw her forward, the seatbelt digging into her shoulders.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then, adrenaline kicked in.

Hands trembling, she instinctively pressed a palm to her abdomen before checking the mirror. The sedan had paused briefly—then sped away, tires screeching.

Evelyn forced herself to breathe. Stepping out, she assessed the damage before calling the authorities. By the time everything was settled, night had fallen.

She dialed Charlotte, voice steadier than she felt.

"Something happened. I need to go to the hospital."

Charlotte’s panic was immediate. "What? What’s wrong?"