Chapter 22

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across the bedroom. Evelyn stirred, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. Nathaniel had already left for work, his side of the bed cold. She sighed, stretching before reaching for her phone. A message from Gregory flashed on the screen: "Meeting at 10. Don’t be late."

She groaned, rubbing her temples. The pressure of the upcoming project weighed heavily on her. The Martin Group’s latest venture was high-profile, and every detail had to be flawless. Evelyn couldn’t afford any mistakes—not with Nathaniel’s family scrutinizing her every move.

Downstairs, Alfred had prepared her usual breakfast: a cup of strong black coffee and a slice of avocado toast. "Good morning, Mrs. Martin," he greeted with a polite nod. "Mr. Martin left early. He mentioned a board meeting."

Evelyn forced a smile. "Thank you, Alfred." She took a sip of coffee, the bitterness grounding her. The silence of the house was deafening. Even with the staff bustling about, it felt hollow without Nathaniel’s presence.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Caroline. "Emergency brunch. Café Blanc. 30 minutes." Evelyn frowned. Caroline wasn’t one for dramatics, so whatever it was had to be serious.

She arrived at the café to find Caroline already seated, her expression unreadable. "What’s going on?" Evelyn asked, sliding into the chair opposite her.

Caroline pushed a tabloid across the table. The headline screamed: "Martin Heir’s Secret Reunion with Ex-Lover!" Beneath it was a grainy photo of Nathaniel and Isabella, their heads close together in what looked like an intimate conversation.

Evelyn’s stomach twisted. "This is nonsense," she muttered, though her voice lacked conviction.

"Is it?" Caroline arched a brow. "Because according to my sources, they’ve been meeting regularly."

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around the paper. She had trusted Nathaniel implicitly, but doubt crept in like a shadow. "I need to talk to him."

"Be careful," Caroline warned. "The Martins play dirty. Don’t let them break you."

Back at the office, Evelyn’s mind raced. She barely registered Gregory’s updates during their meeting. All she could think about was Nathaniel and Isabella. Had he lied to her? Was their marriage just another business arrangement to him?

That evening, she waited in their bedroom, the tabloid clutched in her hand. When Nathaniel finally walked in, his tie loosened and exhaustion lining his face, she held it up. "Care to explain?"

His eyes flickered to the photo, then back to her. "It’s not what it looks like."

"Then what is it?" Her voice trembled.

Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair. "Isabella’s in trouble. She needed help, and I couldn’t turn her away."

Evelyn scoffed. "How convenient. And you didn’t think to tell me?"

"I didn’t want to worry you." He reached for her, but she stepped back.

"Worry me? Or did you think I’d stop you from seeing her?" The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. "This isn’t about her. It’s about trust. Do you trust me or not?"

Evelyn hesitated. The man standing before her was the same one who had vowed to love her, yet the doubt gnawed at her heart. "I don’t know," she whispered.

The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. "Then we have bigger problems than Isabella."

The tension between them was suffocating. Evelyn turned away, her chest aching. Had their love been a lie all along? Or was she letting her insecurities destroy everything?

As Nathaniel left the room, the door clicking shut behind him, Evelyn sank onto the bed, the weight of her doubts crushing her. The battle lines had been drawn, and she wasn’t sure which side she was on anymore.

"Isabella? Oh, it's Evelyn." The soft voice on the other end of the line made Evelyn freeze mid-step.

She gripped her phone tighter before responding coolly, "Why do you have Nathaniel's phone?"

"He asked me to hold it while he's freshening up," Isabella's melodic voice replied. "You could call back later... or better yet, why don't you join us? We're at Vera Wang selecting my wedding gown. Your professional opinion would be invaluable - you are an artist with spaces, after all."

The words "wedding gown" struck Evelyn like a physical blow. Her breath hitched as icy realization crept through her veins. "Did you say... wedding dress shopping?" she repeated, her voice unnaturally steady.

"Mm-hmm," Isabella practically purred. "Nathaniel says I'm recovering beautifully. Once your divorce is finalized, we won't have to wait. We're doing everything in advance - gown, venue, even the photoshoot. You don't mind, do you Evelyn? It's not like you ever truly wanted him."

Evelyn's nails dug into her palm. "Why would I mind? I'm absolutely thrilled for you both." Her tone could have frozen hell. "So this was all Nathaniel's idea?"

"Oh yes," Isabella gushed. "He's so considerate - always putting my needs first, making sure I'm comfortable."

A bitter taste filled Evelyn's mouth. "How lovely. I won't keep you then."

"Aren't you coming to help?" Isabella's faux-innocent question hung in the air.

Evelyn ended the call without answering.

She stared at her reflection in the darkened window - an architect, not a bridal consultant. What was she supposed to do? Critique the cathedral-length train? Suggest better floral arrangements for their future home?

The irony burned. While Evelyn had never known such romantic gestures from Nathaniel, Isabella - who'd slept through a year of her life - now basked in his undivided devotion.

Nathaniel's hypocrisy was staggering. Just this morning he'd insisted on delaying their divorce for his grandfather's sake. Yet here he was, playing devoted fiancé to another woman. Did he think her a complete fool?

Her hand drifted to her still-flat abdomen. "I'm so sorry, little one," she whispered. "I can't give you the perfect family. But I swear on my life, you'll never lack for love."

Assuming Nathaniel wouldn't return that night, Evelyn ate a solitary dinner, showered, and crawled into bed.

She'd nearly drifted off when light flooded the room. Blinking awake, she found Nathaniel looming over her, his expression unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

His brows knitted together. "This is my house. Where else would I be?"

"With Isabella, presumably. I assumed you'd be... occupied."

"Evelyn," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "why must you constantly pick fights about Isabella? It's becoming tiresome."

The accusation ignited the fury she'd suppressed all evening. Bolting upright, she met his gaze head-on.

"So now I'm the unreasonable one?" Her voice trembled with barely-contained rage. "You really can't fathom why I might be upset?"

The air between them crackled with unspoken accusations, the gulf between them widening by the second.