Chapter 311

Evelyn sighed in exasperation, realizing the day had taken an unexpected turn.

She had planned to put in extra hours at the design studio, only to stumble upon Jonathan and Judith sharing an intimate lunch.

The awkwardness compounded when she found herself seated near Nathaniel in the same upscale restaurant.

To top it all off, she'd accidentally sipped from a glass of whiskey mistakenly served to her.

Perhaps Evelyn should check her horoscope before leaving home tomorrow.

Nathaniel stood framed in the walk-in closet doorway, his imposing figure demanding attention.

His piercing gaze locked onto Evelyn, who had just finished making unflattering remarks about him.

As Nathaniel remained motionless, memories from their past marriage came flooding back.

In those days, Evelyn would always greet him at the door when he returned from work, standing attentively like a dutiful wife.

They would proceed to their bedroom's walk-in closet where she'd carefully laid out his evening attire.

Though accustomed to her constant presence, Nathaniel had sensed something missing during this period - he just couldn't identify what.

Now, seeing Evelyn standing in the dressing room, he finally understood what had been absent.

"Nothing to say now?" Nathaniel remarked casually. "You were quite articulate moments ago."

Evelyn cleared her throat. "Actually, I rarely speak ill of people behind their backs."

"Spare me the act. Did I mishear you earlier?"

Maintaining perfect composure, Evelyn clarified, "No, Mr. Whitmore, you heard correctly. I simply prefer giving criticism directly rather than gossiping."

The moment the words left her lips, Evelyn noticed Nathaniel's expression darken.

Sensing the rising tension, Abigail discreetly exited the dressing room, wisely avoiding the brewing conflict.

Seeing Nathaniel's stormy expression, Evelyn felt an unexpected surge of satisfaction.

After three years of marriage, Evelyn had mastered both how to please Nathaniel and how to provoke him.

Having endured years of submission only to be discarded, why should she bother catering to his whims now?

Nathaniel caught the mischievous glint in Evelyn's eyes, realizing she was deliberately trying to rile him.

"Since when have I been difficult to please?" he countered quietly. "Even when your fashion choices were questionable, I never complained."

"Oh please," Evelyn scoffed. "Remember when you accused me of being colorblind over slightly darker bedsheets?"

"And what about those ill-fitting shoes you insisted on wearing? I went to multiple stores to find comfortable ones for you."

"Yet you complained they weren't prestigious enough. Need I go on? How can you claim you never made things difficult?"

Evelyn poured out her grievances, emotions laid bare.

Nathaniel remained silent, his stormy expression deepening.

Evelyn stole a glance, noting the dark shadows in his eyes that betrayed his anger - exactly the reaction she wanted.

If Nathaniel hadn't reacted with anger, it would mean her words had failed to land.

"Honestly," Nathaniel said calmly, "Abigail seems to be struggling in her role. Perhaps she should consider resigning."

Evelyn's face darkened as she defended her friend. "Abigail has improved tremendously."

"Mr. Whitmore, you're being overly critical - a trait you seem unaware of in yourself," she fired back.

Using Abigail as leverage was truly despicable.

Unfazed, Nathaniel leaned casually against the wardrobe, his icy gaze fixed on Evelyn.

"Given Abigail's current challenges, I'm prepared to handle the situation personally. Ultimately, I care about results, not process."

Was Nathaniel suggesting Evelyn become his personal stylist again?

"I'm an interior designer now," she retorted. "I don't work without compensation."

"How about a thousand dollars?" Nathaniel offered.

"You think I can be bought that easily?"

"Three thousand."

Evelyn scoffed. "Mr. Whitmore, you clearly have money to burn. But really, styling my ex-husband?"

"Ten thousand dollars," Nathaniel stated flatly.

Evelyn paused, then said coolly, "Ten thousand per session, no revisions."

Nathaniel smirked. "What happened to your principles?"