Chapter 395

"Mr. Martin, this feels off. Tracking someone like Isabella shouldn't be this straightforward, yet we've pinpointed a lead almost instantly."

Nathaniel slid into the driver's seat, his grip tight on the wheel while his other hand held his phone. His expression was unreadable, his voice detached. "Find her first. Everything else will fall into place."

"Understood." Samuel nodded.

Before hanging up, Nathaniel added abruptly, "Check with Isabella's therapist. Confirm if she's actually been attending her sessions."

He should've asked yesterday, but Evelyn's disappearance took priority. Now, he needed to know if Isabella had lied.

Samuel's earlier words had planted doubt in Nathaniel's mind.

Ending the call, Nathaniel accelerated toward Martin Group headquarters.

The Martin Group, in collaboration with Montgomery Enterprises, had secured a prime plot in Marseille's west district. The area had been dormant for years, but insider intel hinted at imminent development—government incentives included.

Their plan? A luxury mall flanked by corporate towers.

Everything was prepped, awaiting the results of the architectural competition before breaking ground.

Lately, Nathaniel had been locked in strategy sessions with Cassandra, ensuring maximum ROI.

When he strode into his office, Cassandra's glare greeted him.

She knew he'd taken Evelyn for her prenatal checkup. What she hadn't expected was for it to consume the entire morning.

"Nathaniel," she drawled, "once that baby arrives, will you start scheduling board meetings with a diaper bag? Maybe morph into one of those CEO dads who Zoom-calls with a newborn in a sling?"

A wry smile flickered across her lips, bitterness flashing and vanishing just as fast.

Like she'd told Evelyn, she'd made peace with her feelings. No disruptions. Just dignity.

Nathaniel considered her words, then smirked. "Absolutely."

Cassandra's eyes widened, but she said nothing, merely turning back to her work with a quiet exhale.

That evening, Evelyn and Charlotte arrived first at Scarlett, the upscale restaurant where Nathaniel had reserved a private room.

The maître d' led them inside. "Mrs. Martin, shall we serve now or wait?"

"Later," Evelyn said. "He isn't here yet."

With a nod, the maître d' left.

Charlotte flopped onto the plush sofa, eyeing Evelyn. "A formal dinner invite? Feels like I'm being buttered up for something."

"Consider it a thank-you for covering my workload."

"Will this gratitude come in cash or wire transfer?" Charlotte teased, reaching for her phone.

Evelyn tossed a velvet cushion at her.

"After this favor," Evelyn added, "next time I'll need you might be when I'm in labor."

Charlotte grinned. "Hand over the company keys when you go on leave. I'll make sure to loot everything."

"Looking forward to it," Evelyn deadpanned.

The door swung open. Nathaniel walked in, his presence immediately filling the room.

"Apologies for the delay."

"We just got here," Evelyn said.

"Shall we eat?" Nathaniel glanced at Charlotte, who shrugged.

"Sure."

As they settled at the table, servers began bringing out dishes.

Dresden cuisine was bold, all heavy spices and rich flavors. Marseille's was subtler, refined. Evelyn, raised in Dresden, shared Charlotte's preference for intensity—but pregnancy demanded restraint.

Nathaniel had ordered both: fiery curries for Charlotte, delicate seafood for Evelyn.