Chapter 156

Nathan Blackwood slumped onto the leather sofa in his study, fingers pressing against his throbbing temples. His broad shoulders trembled slightly as he leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. The pain was becoming unbearable.

The headache had started during the car ride home. Hearing Penelope, Cassandra, and Victoria's vicious remarks about Evelyn had intensified the pounding in his skull.

"Even with the title of Mrs. Blackwood, she's doing servant's work," they'd sneered. The memory made Nathan's jaw clench. Whether Evelyn was competent or not, no one had the right to speak about her that way.

"Master! Another migraine?" Agnes rushed to the medicine cabinet, her hands shaking as she retrieved the painkillers. She poured a glass of mineral water and handed it to him. "Here, take these."

The pills brought slight relief, easing the tension in his forehead. Nathan's rigid posture relaxed marginally.

"Sir, these medications aren't good long-term solutions," Agnes fretted. "I recall your headaches improved significantly when Madam Evelyn performed her acupuncture treatments. Perhaps we should ask her to return—"

"Agnes." Nathan's voice came out hoarse, his bloodshot eyes lifting to meet hers. "Did they... did they always speak about Evelyn this way? Is it true she cooked for the family all those years?"

The elderly housekeeper sighed. "Yes, Master. I told you repeatedly how hardworking the young madam was, but you dismissed it as an act." She shook her head. "But who could maintain such a pretense for three years? Even if it were an act, such dedication would deserve recognition!"

Nathan's pale lips pressed into a thin line.

"When Madam first arrived, her culinary skills were quite basic," Agnes continued. "She humbly sought my advice, asking me to teach her. I told her the household staff could handle everything - that as the lady of Cliffside Manor, she needn't lift a finger." A wistful smile touched her lips. "But she insisted. Said she wanted to care for her husband personally. Since she couldn't assist with your business affairs, she'd tend to your daily needs instead."

Nathan's chest constricted. "The coughing... why did she cough?"

"At first, the kitchen fumes made her cough violently. She had to wear a mask while cooking." Agnes's eyes grew misty. "Eventually she adapted. Every morning, she'd be in the kitchen before sunrise, preparing breakfast before I even woke."

Nathan felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Even the painkillers couldn't dull this new ache spreading through him.

Agnes's voice turned indignant. "I've had quite enough of Penelope and Cassandra's behavior! After all Madam Evelyn sacrificed for this family, to be treated with such ingratitude..." She shook her head fiercely. "Master, while I dearly wish for your reconciliation, part of me hopes Madam finds happiness elsewhere - with people who'll cherish her properly."

Words could inflict deeper wounds than blades.

Nathan's head snapped up as if struck, his brows knitting together tightly.

Several uneventful days passed.

Reginald Blackwood's birthday approached.

The impending finalization of her divorce left Evelyn with conflicting emotions.

Her marriage to Nathan had been a quiet, rushed affair - just a quick trip to city hall for paperwork. No ceremony, no celebration, not even a shared meal to mark the occasion.

Their marriage certificate contained their only joint photograph. In it, Evelyn beamed radiantly, leaning toward Nathan.

But the man beside her stood stiffly, his expression so cold he might as well have been photoshopped into the frame.

Back then, Evelyn had believed marriage would change things. That with enough effort, she could make Nathan love her.

Now she knew better.

Love was the one thing in this world that couldn't be earned through merit.

"Nathan," she thought, tracing the photograph with her finger, "it wasn't that I didn't try hard enough. We were simply worlds apart."

"Ms. Carter?" Theodore Winslow placed a thick folder on her desk. "The event team worked through three nights on this. The proposal for Isabella Wang's wedding."

Evelyn's eyes brightened as she flipped through the pages. Her fountain pen danced across the document, making swift corrections like a seasoned executive.

"This, this, and this won't work." She tapped the pages decisively. "Too dated. These concepts are five years old at least. And the color scheme - Isabella detests these bright tones. She prefers Mondrian palettes." She closed the folder with finality. "Have them revise it."

"Yes, ma'am." Theodore winced in sympathy for his colleagues.

"We'll prioritize Isabella's wedding after Grandfather Reginald's birthday." Evelyn's gaze sharpened. "This time, we must outperform Blackwood Industries in every aspect. Rally the team - I want everyone at their best."

"Understood. We won't lose to Nathan Blackwood!" Theodore clenched his fist.

Evelyn smirked. "I simply hate losing. This has nothing to do with Nathan. But since he wants competition, I'll show him exactly how outmatched he is."

Her phone buzzed abruptly. Sophia Kingsley's name flashed on the screen.

"Aunt Sophia? What's wrong?"

"Evelyn! I did it!"

Evelyn blinked. "Did... what?"