Chapter 220

The morning sun 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—again.

She sighed, sitting up and running a hand through her tousled hair. The silence of the mansion was deafening. Even Alfred, their ever-attentive butler, moved about with quiet efficiency, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory.

"Evelyn, the client wants revisions by noon. Can you come in early?"

She groaned. Another day of endless meetings and impossible deadlines. But at least work kept her mind off the growing distance between her and Nathaniel.

Downstairs, Rosalind had prepared breakfast—fluffy pancakes with fresh berries, just the way Evelyn liked them. But the food tasted like ash in her mouth.

"Morning, Mrs. Martin," Rosalind greeted cheerfully. "Coffee?"

"Please." Evelyn forced a smile.

As she sipped her coffee, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Charlotte.

"Girl, we need to talk. Lunch today?"

Evelyn hesitated. She had a mountain of work waiting, but the thought of confiding in her best friend was too tempting.

"Fine. But make it quick."

She grabbed her bag and headed out, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily on her chest.

Meanwhile, across town, Nathaniel sat in his office, staring blankly at the financial reports in front of him. Samuel cleared his throat.

"Sir, the board is expecting your decision on the merger by the end of the day."

Nathaniel barely glanced up. "Tell them I need more time."

Samuel hesitated. "They won’t like that."

"I don’t care."

The door opened, and Isabella walked in, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

"Busy?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. "What do you want?"

She smirked. "Just checking in. You’ve been… distant lately."

He didn’t respond.

Isabella leaned against his desk, her perfume overwhelming. "You know, Evelyn doesn’t appreciate you. Not like I do."

Nathaniel finally looked up, his eyes cold. "Get out."

She laughed, unfazed. "You’ll come around."

As she sauntered out, Nathaniel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over Evelyn’s contact.

But he didn’t call.

Instead, he stood and walked to the window, watching the city below.

Somewhere out there, Evelyn was doing the same.

And neither of them knew how to bridge the gap.

Samuel checked his wristwatch with a quick glance. "I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment. Mr. Martin is currently occupied with a high-profile client."

"That's fine. I can wait."

"Very well."

Evelyn trailed behind Samuel as they exited the conference room, settling into the plush seating of the executive lounge. Just as they approached the secretary's office, the heavy oak door to Nathaniel's private suite swung open. A striking woman with an air of effortless confidence stepped out, her crimson lips curved in a knowing smile. Close behind her, Nathaniel appeared, his expression unreadable but his posture relaxed as they exchanged quiet words.

The woman—Scarlett Cronin—tilted her head, her fingers brushing lightly against Nathaniel's forearm. "So, drinks tonight? Just us. No excuses."

Nathaniel didn’t pull away, merely arching a brow. "I'll have my driver take you back to The Grand. As for drinks... another time."

Scarlett let out a soft, amused huff but didn’t argue. "Fine. But I expect better hospitality next time."

"Elevator?" Nathaniel offered, gesturing down the hall.

"Only if you escort me personally."

They moved past Evelyn without so much as a glance in her direction, though Scarlett’s gaze flickered toward her for the briefest second—long enough to leave a smirk in its wake.

Evelyn’s fingers curled into her palms.

Who is she? The question burned at the back of her throat. How well does Nathaniel know her?

She exhaled sharply, forcing her shoulders to relax as she took a seat in the lounge. But the tension lingered, coiling tight in her chest.

Nathaniel walked Scarlett to the elevator bank, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

"That was your wife, wasn’t it?" Scarlett mused, tapping a manicured nail against the elevator button.

Nathaniel’s silence was answer enough.

"She’s lovely," Scarlett continued, undeterred. "Though I suspect she’s not the type to forgive easily. Am I right?"

Nathaniel shot her a warning look. "What’s your point?"

Scarlett laughed. "My point, darling, is that if you keep treating her with the same warmth you reserve for business associates, you’ll be back on the market sooner than you think."

The elevator doors slid open.

"Goodbye, Nathaniel." She stepped inside, flashing him one last grin before the doors sealed shut.

Nathaniel exhaled through his nose, turning on his heel.

When he returned to the lounge, Evelyn was already on her feet, her posture rigid. Their eyes met—hers guarded, his unreadable.

Then, deliberately calm, she spoke.

"Nathaniel, I need to discuss the project with you. Do you have time now?"