Chapter 119

Isabella's lashes trembled slightly as goosebumps prickled across her skin.

"How did you know my shoe size is 36?"

Nathaniel remained expressionless. "They looked small. Just a guess."

Isabella curled her toes uncomfortably in the slippers, her voice icy. "With men, it's always either their hands or their eyes that can't be trusted."

Nathaniel knew he wasn't being honest. He knew her shoe size because he had meticulously gone through every item she left behind at Windsor Estates.

He knew she hoarded snacks like a squirrel, with chocolate taking up most of the space.

Her favorite perfume was Fille de Bel from Maison de Valois. He had smelled it before and thought its spicy, cool scent didn't suit her—until he realized he was wrong. That sharp, proud, intoxicating fragrance was made for her.

He knew she wore size 36 shoes. Those delicate white heels still sat neatly on the shoe rack, as if waiting for her return.

That day, she had accused him of never truly understanding her.

So now, he wanted to try again.

The two-hour car ride passed in near silence.

The Ferrari pulled into Windsor Estates, stopping at the grand entrance.

Nathaniel unbuckled his seatbelt first, then reached for hers.

Anticipating his move, Isabella blocked him with her arm. "I can do it myself."

But before she could react, he had already clicked the release. "No need to thank me."

Her breath hitched. How had he moved so fast? She hadn't even seen his hands move!

Rumors said he could assemble a handgun in eight seconds during his military academy days. His reflexes were terrifying.

Outsmarting her was child's play.

The moment Nathaniel and Isabella stepped inside, whispers erupted among the staff.

"Oh my God! Is that Mr. Nathaniel and Ms. Sinclair? Together?!"

"She's really here! How could he ever divorce someone so stunning?"

"What do we call her now? Mrs. Kingsley or Ms. Sinclair?"

"Better stick with Ms. Sinclair. If Ms. Victoria hears us calling her Mrs. Kingsley, we're dead!"

"True. Ms. Victoria is nothing but a jealous viper compared to Ms. Sinclair."

Nathaniel caught every word. His gaze darkened as he glanced at Isabella beside him.

She must have heard too, but her face remained impassive—unreadable. It unsettled him.

"Where are my things?"

"Still in your room. Exactly where you left them."

"You knew I was coming today. Yet you didn’t prepare in advance. Getting lazy?" She arched a brow.

"Those are your belongings. I didn’t dare touch them." His eyes lingered on her.

Men were masochists, he decided.

When she had been docile, he hadn’t cared. Now, she was a rose with thorns—every word sharp, every glance cutting. And yet, he wanted more.

Isabella avoided his gaze. "So? Do I go up and pack, or will you have someone do it?"

His phone rang.

Nathaniel remembered an urgent conference call. "I need to take this. I'll be back soon."

"Go ahead."

The moment he left, she exhaled, tension draining from her shoulders.

This entire trip was suffocating.

When she was his wife, she had schemed for every second alone with him, only to be met with indifference. Now, he personally drove her, bought her shoes, even buckled her seatbelt—acting like some doting newlywed.

It felt unnatural. Like ants crawling up her spine.

His sudden tenderness was like expired candy—no sweetness, just bitterness.

She dialed Daniel. "Daniel, I'm at Windsor Estates. Can you pick me up?"

"What?! How did you end up there?!"

"Long story. Just get here."

Hanging up, she headed upstairs.

She didn’t want to linger. She’d pack quickly and leave the moment Daniel arrived.

Her old room wasn’t far from Evelyn Kingsley’s. Rumor had it Evelyn had taken leave from school and was home. Isabella decided to check on her.

But as she reached the door, she heard Victoria Kingsley’s shrill voice.

"You little slut! What exactly happened between you and Mr. Adrian at Grandfather’s party? Speak!"

"I didn’t do anything! I swear!" Evelyn’s sobs were heart-wrenching.

"Liar!" Victoria’s rage spiked. "After drinking that, how could nothing happen? Then explain the hickey on his neck!"

"I don’t know! I can’t remember—Ah!"

Crash!

A vase shattered.

Isabella’s fists clenched. Without hesitation, she kicked the door open.

Victoria barely had time to turn before something smacked her square in the face—a slipper.

"Ah!" A second later, the other slipper followed.

Victoria staggered, her nose reddening, a perfect shoe print stamped on her forehead. She looked ridiculous.

Clutching her face, she pointed at Isabella, too furious to form words.

"Calling others sluts so freely—did you forget to wash your mouth after using the toilet?" Isabella crossed her arms, tilting her head with a chilling smile.

"Sister-in-law!" Evelyn huddled in the corner, trembling.

Tears spilled down her cheeks at the sight of Isabella.

"Isabella! You lunatic!" Victoria seethed, her face throbbing. The slippers had left her skin stinging worse than a slap. "Don’t think you can bully me just because you’re a Sinclair! I’m a Kingsley—I won’t let this slide!"

"Promises, promises. Or else I’d have no reason to hit you again."

Isabella’s eyes glittered with icy mockery. "All you do is torment your own sister. How impressive."

Victoria’s face twisted. It took her a full three seconds to process the insult before she lunged. "You dare mock me?! I’ll ruin you!"

Isabella sighed, disgusted.

She had no desire to dirty her hands. Some people weren’t worth the effort. Touching them risked infection.

Just as Victoria’s nails grazed toward her, a strong hand caught her wrist.

"Ah—!" Victoria bent double in pain.

Isabella felt a familiar presence behind her. She turned, startled.

Nathaniel’s piercing gaze met hers.

For a fleeting second, she thought she saw concern in those depths.

She must be imagining things.

Trust a ghost before trusting a man.

"Did she hurt you?" His voice was low, laced with something unfamiliar—worry.