Chapter 100

Agnes Thornton stood with her hands clasped, her wise old eyes filled with sorrow. "Master Nathan, some blessings aren't meant to last. The young mistress was never destined to stay by your side."

Nathan Blackwood felt the world tilt beneath his feet. In his mind's eye, Evelyn Carter's luminous gaze haunted him - those clear, innocent eyes shimmering with unspoken hurt.

He would never again experience her tender care. The hollow ache in his chest betrayed his denial.

"Evelyn wasn't my blessing," he rasped, fingers digging into his palms. "She was my reckoning."

Storming into the master bedroom, his gaze fell upon an elegant box resting on the mahogany coffee table. The crest of Celestial Atelier gleamed in gold leaf - the tailor shop where Evelyn had taken his suits.

Heart pounding, he tore open the packaging. The bespoke suit lay perfectly pressed, its lining meticulously restored. Not a single stitch marred the flawless surface.

His lips curled in reluctant admiration.

"I see you still care for the young mistress's gifts," Agnes observed, her wrinkled face lighting with hope.

"It's an expensive suit," Nathan countered stiffly, running fingers over the crisp fabric. "Waste is unacceptable."

Agnes sighed, her shoulders slumping. "That woman poured her soul into everything concerning you, Master Nathan. Not just this suit." She gestured toward the door. "Come."

They entered the now-vacant guest suite - Evelyn's former sanctuary. Agnes opened a discreet closet, revealing shelves stacked with meticulously arranged gift boxes of every size.

Nathan froze. "What—"

"Three years' worth of gifts," Agnes whispered. "Birthdays. Anniversaries. Even the date of your first meeting." Her voice broke. "She marked every occasion, knowing you'd reject them. As if... as if proving her love to herself."

Nathan's vision blurred. His chest constricted painfully.

"Victoria Sterling's devotion pales beside Evelyn's," Agnes continued fiercely. "I'll never accept another mistress in this house."

Her wrinkled hands trembled with outrage. "That auction business—selling the wine you crafted with your own hands! How could Victoria's family treat your gift so callously? Why didn't she stop them?"

"Enough!" Nathan barked.

But Agnes persisted, her whisper shaking. "Do you know how Evelyn coveted that vintage? She wept for nights when she learned you'd gifted it to Victoria."

Nathan's breath hitched. His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened.

Evelyn... cried? The proud heiress reduced to tears over a bottle of wine?

Agnes produced an ornate lacquered box from the cabinet. When she lifted the lid, Nathan's blood turned to ice.

Inside lay a collection of forgotten treasures - a lost cufflink, discarded ties, even an antique lighter he'd abandoned years ago. Each item polished and preserved with reverent care.

"Evelyn would sooner die than sell your gifts," Agnes said bitterly. "She cherished even your castoffs."

"Victoria didn't know about the auction," Nathan defended hoarsely, though the words tasted like ash. "She'd never—"

"There's an old saying," Agnes interrupted with a sad smile. "You can't wake someone pretending to sleep."

With that, she departed, leaving Nathan drowning in the wreckage of his choices.

The revelation struck like thunder - Evelyn's three-year masquerade. Not the perfect, unflappable society wife, but a woman who burned with jealousy, who raged in silence, who loved so fiercely it broke her.

If her devotion ran so deep... how could she walk away without looking back?

Nathan's jaw tightened. His stormy eyes burned with furious denial.