Chapter 42

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the bedroom as Evelyn stirred awake. Beside her, Nathaniel slept soundly, his breathing steady. She traced the sharp line of his jaw with her fingertips, marveling at how peaceful he looked.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Mrs. Martin?" Alfred's voice came through the door. "Mr. Edward has requested your presence in the study."

Evelyn sighed, slipping out of bed. She dressed quickly, choosing a simple yet elegant navy dress. The house was quiet as she made her way downstairs, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

Edward Martin sat behind his mahogany desk, his expression unreadable. "Ah, Evelyn. Come in." He gestured to the chair opposite him. "We need to discuss the upcoming gala."

She sat, folding her hands in her lap. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

Edward leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "This isn't just any event. It's a statement. The Martins must appear united, especially after... recent events." His tone carried an unspoken weight.

Evelyn's stomach tightened. He was referring to Isabella's sudden reappearance. "I understand," she said carefully. "Nathaniel and I will ensure everything goes smoothly."

A faint smile touched Edward's lips. "Good. Because there's more." He slid a folder across the desk. "Take a look."

She opened it, her breath catching. Inside were blueprints—her designs for the new Martin corporate headquarters. "These were rejected weeks ago."

"Reconsidered," Edward corrected. "Your vision aligns with what we need. But there's a condition."

Evelyn's pulse quickened. "Which is?"

"The project must be completed in six months. Any delays, and we revert to the original plans."

Six months was nearly impossible. Yet the opportunity to leave her mark on the Martin legacy was undeniable. She met Edward's gaze. "I'll make it happen."

As she left the study, her phone buzzed. A message from Gregory: Emergency meeting at the office. Now.

Evelyn hurried out, her mind racing. The gala, the project, Isabella's looming presence—it was all converging too quickly.

At the architecture firm, Gregory's face was grim. "We have a problem," he said, handing her a tablet.

The screen displayed a tabloid headline: Scandal Revisited: Nathaniel Martin's Secret Past with Isabella Davis. Accompanying it were old photos of Nathaniel and Isabella, intimate and damning.

Evelyn's hands trembled. "Who leaked these?"

"Anonymous source," Gregory said. "But the timing is suspicious."

She clenched her jaw. Isabella's doing, no doubt. The gala was in three days. If this scandal erupted now...

Her phone rang. Nathaniel's name flashed on the screen. She answered, bracing herself.

"Evelyn," his voice was strained. "We need to talk."

Nathaniel's brow furrowed slightly as his gaze instinctively sought Evelyn. His response to Isabella came in a low murmur, "Did Evelyn mention we're finalizing everything tomorrow?"

"That's what she told me when she returned this morning. Isn't that right, Evelyn?" Isabella turned with practiced sweetness toward Evelyn, her demeanor a stark contrast to their private encounters.

Evelyn met her glance briefly before looking away, offering no response. The silence stretched, leaving Isabella visibly uncomfortable.

She leaned closer to Nathaniel, whispering, "Since you and Evelyn are proceeding with the divorce, perhaps we should relocate. You mentioned gifting the villa to Evelyn in the settlement. Staying here afterward might... appear inappropriate."

Nathaniel's patience wore thin. "Is that what you want?" His question, though directed at Evelyn, carried an edge of frost.

Their eyes locked—his like winter frost, sharp enough to burn. Evelyn held his gaze steadily. "I won't be living here post-divorce. If you haven't found suitable arrangements yet, you're welcome to stay."

Nathaniel owned half the city's luxury properties. His claim about lacking appropriate housing for Isabella was transparently flimsy—a thinly veiled excuse to remain near her. But soon, none of it would concern Evelyn anymore. She refused to dwell on it further.

His displeasure simmered through dinner, an unspoken storm brewing beneath his controlled exterior. By nightfall, he retreated to his study while Evelyn withdrew to their bedroom. When he finally joined her hours later, sleep had already claimed her.

Dawn arrived without fanfare. At six sharp, Nathaniel emerged from the master suite, bypassing breakfast entirely. As he stepped toward his car, a voice halted him. "Nathaniel, leaving so early?"

He turned to find Isabella hurrying toward him, her sundress fluttering. "Just heading to the office," he replied. "You're up early."

Her smile was bright. "Since you're finalizing the divorce today... might I join you? For support?"

His jaw tightened. "At the courthouse?"

"If that's alright? I'd like to be there for you." Her hopeful expression didn't waver.

Nathaniel exhaled sharply. "Courthouse opens at nine. I have work first."

"Oh, I don't mind waiting at the office with you."

"Suit yourself." His terse agreement sent her scrambling into the passenger seat.

Evelyn woke at seven to an empty bed. Downstairs, Alfred informed her, "Mr. Martin departed earlier with Ms. Davis."

"I see." Her voice remained steady, but the words settled like stones in her stomach. Where would he take her at dawn? The unspoken question twisted inside her. Celebrating their newfound freedom already?

The ache was insidious—tiny, relentless teeth gnawing at her composure. After forcing down toast, she drove straight to the courthouse alone, assuming Nathaniel would meet her there after his... diversions.

Meanwhile, on the top floor of Martin Group's headquarters, Nathaniel sat immersed in documents while Isabella waited patiently across from him. An hour passed. Then two. The courthouse had been open for thirty minutes when she finally cleared her throat. "Nathaniel, shouldn't we leave soon?"

He checked his watch. "Give me a moment."

Isabella bit her lip. The paperwork will happen regardless, she reassured herself. No need to rush and risk irritating him.

Nathaniel's phone buzzed discreetly against the desk. A single message sent, then returned to its place. Fifteen minutes later, Samuel burst in urgently. "Emergency board meeting, sir. They're insisting on your immediate presence."

Nathaniel stood abruptly. "Now?"

"Yes. The entire morning's schedule may need postponement."

"Handle it." Turning to Isabella, his tone softened marginally. "I'll arrange a car for you. This can't be delayed."

Before she could protest, he was gone.

By 9:10 a.m., Evelyn had been waiting outside the courthouse for ninety minutes. Her third call to Nathaniel finally connected—to Samuel's voice. "Mrs. Martin? Mr. Martin's in a critical meeting. May I assist?"

"A meeting?" Her grip tightened on the phone. "On today of all days?"

"An unforeseen crisis. Shall I relay a message?"

"No." The word dropped like lead. Hanging up, Evelyn stared at her reflection in the courthouse windows. What meeting could possibly trump this?

Her phone vibrated with Gregory's caller ID. "Is it done?" he asked without preamble.

"Not even close. He's... preoccupied."

A pause. Then, quietly: "Evelyn... is he having second thoughts?"

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Pineview Villa, casting golden patterns across our bedroom. I stirred awake to find Nathaniel already dressed, his crisp white shirt accentuating his broad shoulders as he adjusted his cufflinks by the window.

"Good morning, Mrs. Martin," he murmured without turning, as if sensing my gaze. That name still sent a thrill through me - Evelyn Martin. Architect. Wife. Soon-to-be mother.

I stretched beneath the silk sheets. "You're up early."

"Board meeting at nine." He finally turned, his stormy gray eyes softening as they landed on my barely-there baby bump. "How's our little architect today?"

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. Gregory's name flashed across the screen with three missed calls. My stomach dropped. Gregory never called this early unless something was wrong.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed as I grabbed the phone. "Everything alright?"

"I don't know." My fingers trembled as I dialed voicemail. Gregory's frantic voice filled the room: "Evelyn, call me immediately. Summit Realty just pulled out of the waterfront project. Sebastian Wilson is claiming breach of contract."

The phone slipped from my fingers. This couldn't be happening. Not after six months of work. Not when my reputation was finally recovering from the scandal with Isabella.

Nathaniel was beside me in two strides, scooping up the phone. "Let me handle this."

"No." I swung my legs out of bed, suddenly nauseous. "This is my project. My responsibility."

His jaw tightened. "At least let me call Samuel to-"

"I need to see the contract first." I was already pulling on clothes, my mind racing. What could have possibly gone wrong? We'd been meticulous. I'd personally reviewed every clause with Gregory last week.

Downstairs, Alfred had coffee waiting. The normally comforting aroma turned my stomach. Nathaniel's phone rang as we reached the foyer.

"It's Richard," he said grimly. Of course it was. His father had opposed my firm handling Martin Group projects from the beginning. This would be all the ammunition he needed.

I kissed Nathaniel's cheek. "Go. I'll meet you at the office after I sort this out."

The drive to Mitchell & Wilson Architects passed in a blur. Gregory was pacing outside when I arrived, his usually impeccable suit wrinkled, tie askew.

"Thank God," he breathed, pulling me inside. "Jonathan Blake just sent over their termination notice. They're citing 'failure to meet design specifications' and 'unprofessional conduct.'"

"That's impossible!" I snatched the papers from his hands, scanning the legalese. My vision blurred at Section 4.2: "Designer engaged in conflicts of interest through undisclosed relationship with competing firm."

Ice water flooded my veins. There was only one person who would plant that idea.

Isabella.

The office phone rang shrilly. Gregory answered, then paled. "It's Cassandra Reed's agent. They're withdrawing from the model home showcase."

The walls seemed to close in. Cassandra was our celebrity draw for next month's grand opening. Without her...

My phone buzzed again. Unknown number. A text with a single image loaded slowly - a grainy photo of Nathaniel leaving a hotel with Isabella last night. The timestamp read 11:37pm.

My coffee cup shattered on the floor.

Gregory grabbed my shoulders. "Evelyn? Breathe."

But I couldn't. Because the accompanying message made everything clear: "Some designs should never be built. Walk away now, or everyone sees what your husband really does at night."

The world tilted. Was this why Nathaniel had been so insistent on handling things himself? Had he been lying about cutting ties with Isabella?

My hands found my stomach protectively. I'd survived scandals before. But this time, it wasn't just my career at stake. It was my marriage. My family.

And someone was determined to burn it all down.