Chapter 297

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, illuminating the blueprints spread across her desk. Her fingers traced the intricate lines of the latest project—a luxury resort that could redefine Martin Group's portfolio.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Evelyn, you have a visitor," Gabrielle announced, stepping aside to reveal Nathaniel standing in the doorway.

Her breath hitched. Even after all this time, his presence still sent a jolt through her. Dressed in a tailored navy suit, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

"I thought we could have lunch," he said, his voice smooth yet laced with something unreadable.

Evelyn hesitated. Their relationship had been a whirlwind of emotions—love, betrayal, reconciliation. But lately, the distance between them had grown, filled with unspoken words and lingering doubts.

"Just lunch?" she asked, arching a brow.

Nathaniel smirked, stepping closer. "Unless you'd prefer something more... private."

Heat crept up her neck, but she forced a composed smile. "Lunch is fine."

As they left the office, Evelyn couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just about food. There was a tension in the air, a silent storm brewing beneath Nathaniel's calm exterior.

The restaurant he chose was elegant, secluded—a place where conversations could remain unheard. Over glasses of wine, he finally broached the subject she'd been dreading.

"We need to talk about Isabella."

Evelyn's grip tightened around her glass. Isabella Davis—Nathaniel's ex, the woman who had once threatened to tear them apart.

"What about her?" Evelyn kept her tone neutral, though her heart pounded.

Nathaniel leaned forward, his expression serious. "She's back in town. And she's not here to play nice."

A chill ran down Evelyn's spine. The past was catching up to them, and this time, she wasn't sure if their love could survive the storm.

As the waiter approached with their meals, Nathaniel's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening.

"We have a problem," he muttered.

Evelyn didn't need to ask. The look in his eyes said it all.

Isabella had already made her move.

And the game was far from over.

Nathaniel's gaze darkened as he lowered his head, his voice softening. "You're right. This situation does involve Isabella Davis."

A dangerous glint flickered in Nathaniel's eyes, his handsome features hardening with icy hostility. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

The office air turned heavy, charged with unspoken tension.

Samuel waited, his pulse quickening, before daring to ask, "Mr. Martin, should we report this to the authorities?"

"No." Nathaniel's response was sharp, his tone leaving no room for argument. He dismissed Samuel with a wave of his hand. "Keep this quiet for now. Recall the team—no further investigation."

Samuel nodded. "Understood, sir."

Once alone, Nathaniel's attention returned to the photograph in his grasp. The longer he stared, the deeper the shadows in his expression grew, masking whatever turmoil churned beneath.

He didn't bother finishing. With a flick of his wrist, he shoved the image back into its envelope and tossed it into the farthest corner of his desk drawer.

A cigarette found its way between his fingers. As smoke curled around him, his sharp features turned colder, more unreadable.

After exhaling a slow drag, he pressed the intercom. "Samuel."

The door opened moments later. "Sir?"

"Rotate surveillance on her every ten days. She can't suspect a thing. Monitor every contact she makes." Nathaniel's voice was steel. "If anything feels off, replace the operative immediately."

"Of course." Samuel hesitated. "Should we... intervene? Send a warning?"

"Not yet. We don't know her endgame. Acting now would tip our hand."

"But—"

Nathaniel's gaze snapped up, silencing him.

Samuel swallowed. "Apologies, sir. I overstepped."

Nathaniel exhaled, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Handle this discreetly. Evelyn cannot find out. Not until we know what Isabella is planning. One misstep, and this spirals."

Samuel dipped his head in acknowledgment before retreating.

Alone again, Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. A single thought echoed: If Evelyn discovers this, will she ever forgive me?

His eyes darkened further, clouded like a storm with no end.

Just as he reached for his phone to call Evelyn, the door burst open—Samuel, uncharacteristically frantic.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed. "What now?"

No knock. No warning.

Samuel thrust a tablet forward. The headline blared: MITCHELL GROUP IN FREE FALL.

"Sir, urgent news. William Mitchell's company is collapsing. Debt collectors swarmed them. He started mass layoffs, but two employees—they jumped from the rooftop."

The Mitchell Group had been drowning for years, barely staying afloat.

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Are they alive?"

"Rescue teams are still working. Initial reports say they hit a solar panel barrier on the way down. Critical, but stable."

A small mercy. Still, the damage was done. The media had already painted the Mitchell name in blood.

Nathaniel was already moving, snapping orders. "Get the car. We're picking up Evelyn."

His phone was at his ear before he crossed the threshold.

Evelyn answered on the second ring, her voice eerily calm. "You're calling an hour early. Getting reckless, Mr. Martin?"