Chapter 54

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. Her fingers flew over the blueprints, making precise adjustments with her mechanical pencil. The scent of freshly brewed coffee from Gabrielle's desk mingled with the crisp paper smell.

A sharp knock interrupted her concentration. "Come in," she called without looking up.

The door swung open to reveal Nathaniel, his tailored navy suit accentuating his broad shoulders. "Working through lunch again?" His deep voice held a note of amused disapproval.

Evelyn finally glanced up, her pencil pausing mid-stroke. "This proposal for the waterfront development is due tomorrow." She gestured at the scattered documents. "Gregory's meeting with the investors at three."

Nathaniel stepped closer, his cologne - something woodsy with a hint of citrus - enveloping her. "You've been at this since seven." He plucked the pencil from her fingers. "Even genius architects need to eat."

Before she could protest, his phone buzzed. His expression darkened as he read the message. "Isabella's back in town."

Evelyn's stomach clenched. She forced her voice steady. "For how long?"

"Indefinitely, according to Vanessa." He pocketed his phone with a sharp movement. "She's taking over as creative director for Seraphina's new fashion line."

The news hit like a physical blow. Isabella Davis wasn't just Nathaniel's ex - she was the woman who'd shattered his heart before vanishing to Paris five years ago. The same woman whose photos still filled an album in the Martins' penthouse.

Evelyn's fingers found the emerald pendant at her throat - Nathaniel's anniversary gift. "Does Edward know?"

"He will by dinner." Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Grandfather always had a soft spot for her."

Outside, the city hummed with midday activity, oblivious to the storm brewing in the glass-walled office. Evelyn studied her husband's tense profile, the way his knuckles whitened around his phone. The Isabella-shaped shadow that had loomed over their marriage since day one was about to become very real.

Gabrielle chose that moment to appear with two takeout containers. "Your usuals from- oh!" She froze in the doorway, sensing the tension. "Should I come back later?"

"No, we're done here." Nathaniel took the food and set it on Evelyn's desk. His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "Don't work too late."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Evelyn staring at the blueprint where her pencil had left an unintended dark smudge. Right across the proposed couple's retreat. Fitting.

Her phone vibrated with a text from Caroline: Heard the news. Drinks tonight? You'll need them.

Evelyn exhaled slowly. Somewhere in the city, Isabella Davis was unpacking her designer luggage. And nothing in Evelyn's carefully constructed life would ever be the same again.

She hesitated briefly before replying, "Our divorce won't affect Martin Group's stability."

"So my near-fatal accident means nothing compared to your rush to divorce me?" Nathaniel's voice turned icy. "I'm bedridden, yet you're desperate to file papers? Worried my injuries might inconvenience you?"

Evelyn was baffled.

What twisted logic was this?

She opened her mouth to clarify, but he continued, "You're upset because Isabella was involved in my accident, aren't you? Admit it, Evelyn—you're jealous." His tone held finality, not curiosity.

Her lashes fluttered as she met his gaze. After a prolonged silence, she countered, "Suppose I am? How would you explain yourself?"

"Are you in love with me?" Nathaniel fired back.

"What do you think?" She maintained her composure.

"Since you claim not to love me, why the outrage? Isn't that jealousy?" His smirk confirmed he'd already decided her feelings, regardless of her denials.

A humorless laugh escaped her. "If our positions were reversed—if I'd raced through a storm for another man and wound up hospitalized—would you calmly accept it?"

Nathaniel's expression darkened instantly, his glare turning arctic.

Abruptly changing subjects, he muttered, "I need to bathe. Now."

"Now?" Her brows knitted.

"Yes. Now."

"Then I'll call the nurse—"

"The nurse?" His interruption was razor-sharp. "Absolutely not."

"You're covered in injuries. A professional—"

"No." His jaw set stubbornly. "You'll do it."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "You can barely stand. This is reckless—"

"Do I repulse you now?" His voice dropped dangerously as he studied her reaction.

She froze. Where had that come from? "That's not—I'm trying to prevent further injury. Let me call Thomas—"

"No." His refusal was absolute. "We're married. Or does that only matter when convenient for you?"

Her hands clenched. "Fine."

As she prepared the basin, his voice followed her. "Evelyn. Do you hate me?"

The question made her pause. "No."

"Then why the reluctance? If it's truly unbearable, leave."

"It's my responsibility."

"Only duty binds you?"

She didn't answer, focusing on wringing the towel. His relentless stare burned her skin. "Stop looking at me."

"Am I not permitted to look at my own wife?"

"Your staring makes this impossible."

"I'm merely observing. Continue."

With clipped movements, she cleaned his torso and redressed him. "Done."

His eyebrow arched. "Half-done at best."

Following his pointed glance downward, heat flooded her cheeks. Though they'd been intimate, this clinical exposure unsettled her.

When she hesitated, Nathaniel seized her wrist. "Your disgust is obvious."

"That's not—"

He tugged sharply. She lost balance, knee landing on his injured thigh. The bandage bloomed crimson.

"Damn it!" She scrambled to inspect the damage, heart pounding. The gash had reopened.

Nathaniel, however, smiled faintly. "You were worried."

"Are you insane?" She rarely used his full name. "This isn't a game!"

His smile deepened inexplicably. "I needed to know if you cared. Your delayed hospital visit already fuels rumors."

Her temper snapped. "How dare you? You got hurt protecting Isabella, yet you're accusing me?"

The air between them crackled with unspoken accusations.