Chapter 212

Nathan's jaw tightened. After a brief hesitation, he gave a stiff nod. "Fine." He accepted her compensation demands without question, though implementing them would require some maneuvering.

Yet relief washed over him. If she's willing to accept my reparations, does that mean there's still hope for us? Evelyn showed no surprise at his immediate agreement.

She rose gracefully, moving behind her mahogany desk. "I'll have my legal team draft the agreement with Blackwood Enterprises."

"Let's keep this collaboration confidential for now." Nathan had been thinking the same. The project was too nascent for public scrutiny.

From Evelyn's posture, she was clearly preparing to dismiss him. With their fragile truce newly formed, he knew better than to overstay his welcome.

Nathan stood, adjusting his suit sleeves. "I should—" His words died as his gaze locked onto the bronze sculpture behind her.

His breath caught. The modernist tree sculpture was unmistakably the work of renowned Swedish artist Lars Magnusson, known for his reinterpretation of Baroque motifs.

But it wasn't the sculpture's six-figure price tag that froze his blood.

Sunlight streaming through the window caught on something dangling from one bronze branch—a diamond solitaire ring suspended by its platinum band.

His lost wedding ring.

Nathan's lungs constricted. The ring he'd mourned losing years ago... here, in Evelyn's office?

Evelyn glanced up impatiently. "Mr. Blackwood, if we're finished—" She broke off, frowning at his expression.

Nathan moved forward like a man in a trance. His lips parted soundlessly, chest heavy as if filled with lead. When his dark eyes met Evelyn's, her immediate recoil made his stomach drop.

He reached toward the paired rings—his and hers—displayed like museum pieces. Evelyn reacted like he'd drawn a weapon.

"Don't!" She shoved him back with surprising strength, making him stumble. Her icy glare kept him from approaching again.

Pain and confusion warred in Nathan's shadowed eyes. Evelyn's voice could have frosted glass. "Our business is concluded."

Every second he remained threatened to resurrect ghosts she'd buried long ago. That naive girl who'd loved Nathan Blackwood? She refused to be her anymore.

"Evelyn," he rasped, "why is my ring here?" The question tore from him. "I lost it years ago. How—"

"My ring," she corrected sharply. What had their marriage been, really? Two signatures on legal documents. She'd bought these rings herself, just as she'd borne the pain alone.

When she'd offered her heart, he'd discarded it like yesterday's newspaper. What claim did he have now?

Nathan's lips pressed into a bloodless line. Years of suppressed regret surfaced in his haunted expression. "I'm sorry." The words felt woefully inadequate.

Evelyn's laugh held no warmth. "Save your apologies. Your signature on that contract tells me everything I need to know."

Adults settled things with contracts and compensation, not sentimental drivel. Isabella had been right—cold hard cash healed most wounds.

Nathan's gaze returned to the rings, polished to museum-quality brilliance. "How did they end up here?" The question was barely audible.

The matching bands gleamed mockingly in the sunlight, pristine as the day she'd bought them. A monument to broken promises.