Chapter 6

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's penthouse, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. She stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the cold sheets where Nathaniel should have been. Again.

Her phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. Three missed calls from Gregory.

"Damn it," she muttered, scrambling to answer the fourth ring.

"Evelyn! Where the hell are you?" Gregory's voice crackled through the speaker. "The Summit Realty presentation starts in forty minutes!"

Her stomach dropped. The Martin Group merger. The most important pitch of her career.

"I'm on my way," she lied, already sprinting to the walk-in closet.

Twenty-three minutes later, Evelyn burst through the glass doors of Mitchell & Wilson Architects, her heels clicking frantically against the polished concrete. Gabrielle materialized beside her, thrusting a tablet into her hands.

"Sebastian Wilson's already in the conference room. He looks pissed."

Evelyn smoothed her navy blazer, catching her reflection in the elevator doors. Dark circles. Frazzled hair. The ghost of last night's argument with Nathaniel still clinging to her like cheap perfume.

The elevator pinged.

Showtime.

Sebastian Wilson stood at the head of the conference table, his tailored suit costing more than Evelyn's monthly rent. His cold gaze tracked her entrance like a predator sizing up wounded prey.

"Ms. Mitchell. How... prompt of you."

Jonathan Blake smirked from Sebastian's right, twirling a gold pen between his fingers. The Summit Realty project manager had been gunning for her position since day one.

Evelyn activated the holographic display with trembling fingers. "Gentlemen, let me walk you through our vision for the Martin waterfront development."

The 3D rendering shimmered to life - a breathtaking fusion of glass and steel that would redefine the city's skyline. Sebastian's expression remained unreadable.

"Interesting concept," he finally said. "But can your firm handle this scale? Rumor has it your husband's family prefers... traditional architects."

The barb struck true. Nathaniel's grandfather Edward had publicly trashed modern architecture at last month's charity gala.

Evelyn's nails bit into her palms. "My marriage has no bearing on my professional—"

Her phone vibrated. A news alert flashed across the screen:

Breaking: Isabella Davis Returns - Supermodel Spotted at Martin Private Airport

The blood drained from Evelyn's face. Isabella. Nathaniel's legendary first love. Back from Paris.

Sebastian's smile turned razor-sharp. "Problem, Ms. Mitchell?"

The conference room walls seemed to pulse around her. Every eye drilling into her crumbling composure.

Evelyn forced a smile. "Just a minor household issue. Now, about these sustainability features..."

But the damage was done.

As she mechanically presented the solar panel schematics, her mind raced to the text Nathaniel had sent at 3:17 AM:

Need to talk. It's about Isabella.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked louder with each passing second, counting down to the moment her professional and personal worlds would collide.

My Fault?

"You could never be ugly. You're healing, that's all. Don't worry, alright?" Nathaniel reassured Isabella, his voice tender.

"Really? You won't change your mind about me?" Her eyes shimmered with fragile hope.

Without missing a beat, he replied, "Never. Once you're better, we'll get married."

"You promise? You're not just saying that?" Isabella pressed, her fingers tightening around the bedsheet.

"I mean every word. Now, eat," Nathaniel murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Nathaniel, I love you," she whispered, her voice like a soft sigh.

Outside the door, Evelyn stood frozen, every word piercing through her like shards of glass. She bit her lip, forcing herself to stay quiet. This wasn’t her moment to interrupt.

When the conversation lulled, she finally knocked.

A cold, detached voice answered, "Come in."

Stepping inside, Evelyn immediately spotted Nathaniel by the bed, still in yesterday’s suit. He hadn’t left the hospital all night. His gaze flicked to her—icy, indifferent, as if she were nothing more than a stranger.

Evelyn clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

From the bed, Isabella brightened. "Evelyn! Thank you for bringing the clothes. Come, sit with us."

Pale and delicate, Isabella’s shoulder-length hair framed her face in a way that made her look heartbreakingly beautiful. The kind of beauty that demanded protection.

She was eating a bowl of cinnamon-laced oatmeal—soft food for her recovery. But the overpowering scent hit Evelyn like a wave.

Her stomach twisted violently. She gagged, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Silence.

Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. "What’s your problem?"

"Evelyn… do I disgust you?" Isabella asked, her voice trembling.

Evelyn swallowed hard, forcing her expression neutral. "It’s not you. The hospital smell just gets to me."

She thrust the bag of clothes forward, avoiding the cinnamon. "Here. Everything you asked for."

Isabella took it, beaming. "You remembered my style! You’re so thoughtful."

Evelyn’s mind reeled. Her style? So the endless wardrobe updates at Pineview Villa were for her?

She shot Nathaniel a mocking glance, lips curling into a bitter smirk.

"If we’re done here, can we talk?" Evelyn asked coolly.

Isabella flinched. "Evelyn, please don’t be upset. I know you’re still his wife. I shouldn’t have called him so late, but I—"

Tears welled in her eyes, her breath hitching.

"Isabella, stop," Nathaniel cut in, voice tight. "The doctor said no stress."

Once she calmed, he turned to Evelyn, jaw clenched. "Why are you making this harder?"

Evelyn nearly laughed. I haven’t even done anything, and it’s my fault?

She forced a tight smile. "Does it matter? If Ms. Davis cared, she wouldn’t have called at midnight. But it’s fine—we’re divorced now. No need for theatrics."

Nathaniel’s frown deepened, an odd pang in his chest despite getting what he wanted. "If you’re mad about the clothes, blame me. Isabella’s too fragile for this."

Evelyn’s nails bit deeper. So it’s fine if I’m hurt, but not her.

Isabella reached for Nathaniel’s hand. "Don’t be harsh. It’s my fault." She turned to Evelyn. "I’m sorry for the trouble."

Evelyn said nothing, face unreadable.

Isabella blinked, unnerved by her silence.

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "Let’s finalize the paperwork. When?"

"Monday morning," Nathaniel bit out.

Today was Saturday. Two days.

"Perfect," Evelyn said lightly. "I’ll leave you two alone."

Nathaniel didn’t respond, his expression stormy.

What did I do now? Evelyn mocked herself silently before turning on her heel and walking out.

Behind her, Isabella murmured, "Go after her. Talk it out."

"Nothing to say," Nathaniel muttered, though his grip on the chair tightened.

Since when did she become so stubborn? he wondered, irritation flaring.