Chapter 150

The chilling words Isabella had spoken echoed in her mind. Her nails dug into her palms as she paced the sterile hospital room like a caged animal.

"I can't just wait here like a sitting duck! Isabella's part of the Sinclair empire now, and she's cunning as a fox. She already knows about my overseas dealings - it's only a matter of time before she uncovers everything!"

Action was required. Immediate action.

With trembling fingers, Nathaniel dialed Harrison's number.

The line rang endlessly before a gruff voice answered, "Who the hell calls at this ungodly hour?"

"Harrison! Isabella's onto me and she'll expose us both soon!" Nathaniel's voice cracked with desperation, her eyes bloodshot. "You need to leave Windsor Estates immediately!"

"Trying to cut me loose?" The man's laugh was dark. "No money, no deal. That was our arrangement."

"If Isabella ruins my marriage to Sebastian, you'll get nothing!" Nathaniel hissed.

There was a pause. "Fine. But cross me, and you'll regret it."

"You'll get every penny! Just lay low until this blows over."

The call ended, but Nathaniel's hands wouldn't stop shaking.

She took three steadying breaths before dialing her mother Arabella. "Mom, come to the hospital now. It's urgent."

Meanwhile, the phone Harrison had used now powered down in Isabella's grasp.

For days, Harrison had been confined to the basement of The Chateau Royale under constant surveillance. Escape was impossible.

Still, he felt grateful Isabella allowed him to sit upright rather than dangling him by his ankles again. That position had nearly given him a cerebral hemorrhage. "Excellent performance. You're quite the actor." Isabella handed the phone to Lawrence with a sardonic smirk.

"At your service, Miss..." Harrison's pallid face glistened with sweat. His bandaged hands twitched at the memory of his injuries.

"Nathaniel's birthday approaches." Isabella crossed her legs elegantly, the picture of relaxed confidence. "You'll perform one final act for us. Succeed, and your sentence will be reduced. Fail..." Her smile turned razor-sharp. "Let's just say prison will seem like paradise."

"I'll do whatever you ask!" Harrison's head bobbed like a buoy in stormy seas.

Isabella's expression softened. "I hear you've been surviving on two bread crusts daily? That won't do." She nodded to Lawrence. "Bring him a proper meal."

Within minutes, Lawrence presented a tray bearing two gourmet sandwiches, a roasted chicken, and an ice-cold beer.

Harrison's eyes bulged at the feast. After days of stale bread, saliva mixed with tears streamed down his unshaven face.

"Eat. Courtesy of Miss Isabella." Lawrence placed the tray before him like one might feed a stray dog.

Harrison swallowed hard, voice trembling. "Miss Isabella...is this...my last meal?"

Later, exiting The Chateau Royale, Isabella stretched like a satisfied cat. "Home, Lawrence."

"But Miss Isabella, why feed that snake?" Lawrence's fists clenched at the memory. "After what he did, he deserves to starve!"

"Every pawn has its purpose." Isabella yawned elegantly. "After weeks in that basement, Harrison despises Nathaniel. But if I show mercy at his breaking point..." Her lips curved. "All that hatred redirects. He'll destroy Nathaniel for us."

"Brilliant!" Lawrence's admiration shone through. "I can't wait to watch them tear each other apart."

One week later...

After inspecting The Regent Grand's impeccable operations, Isabella returned to her office for some well-earned gaming time.

In six months under her leadership, the hotel hadn't just maintained its five-star rating - it won "Most Popular Luxury Destination of the Year."

But Isabella wasn't satisfied. She wanted the coveted "World's Best Hotel" title for five consecutive years.

The Sinclair Group's fortunes were changing under her command.

Recently, three major media outlets had interviewed her. Lawrence never imagined his camera-shy boss would grant interviews - until he understood her strategy.

To become CEO of Vanderbilt Industries, bloodline alone wouldn't suffice. She needed the board to witness her brilliance firsthand.

Sebastian had given her this hotel as a test. She intended to exceed every expectation.

Victory chimes sounded from her game. She reached for the intercom to summon Lawrence before remembering she'd sent him on an errand.

Seven days had passed. Nathaniel's birthday loomed in two days, yet Lawrence hadn't returned.

Isabella chuckled, eyes closed, fingers drumming a rhythmic tattoo on her desk.

Her instincts never failed. She could wait.

The phone rang.

Seeing it was her dear friend Camille, Isabella answered with genuine warmth. "Camille! What delightful news do you bring?"

Gone was Camille's usual haughty demeanor. Her voice bubbled with uncharacteristic cheer. "Isabella, I've baked pastries and brewed exceptional coffee. Could you spare time to visit? I'd love to thank you properly."

Isabella laughed. "Let me guess - Maison de Valois's new collection arrived, and you want my opinion?"

"You see through everything!" Camille feigned exasperation.

"Camille, your designs stand on their own now. You've become an icon, inspiring countless designers." Isabella's tone turned earnest. "Trust your instincts. My input would only dilute your unique vision. Have confidence!"

"Thank you...I'd be nothing without you." Camille's humility remained. To her, Isabella would always be incomparable.

"Actually..." Camille hesitated. "Something happened earlier that might upset you."

"Oh?"

"That woman Nathaniel came demanding to borrow a dress again." Camille's voice dripped venom. "She had the audacity to request the silver one-shoulder gown from my private collection!"

"Did you lend it?" Isabella's voice remained calm.

"I did...and I'm sorry..."

"I trust your judgment completely." No reproach colored Isabella's words.

"It's last season's design, and the measurements are all wrong for her. But she insisted!" Camille's laugh was icy. "I warned her - alter one stitch with even a safety pin, and she'll pay five times its value."

"Do you foresee...complications with such an ill-fitting gown?" Isabella asked mildly.

"If there are, the embarrassment will be entirely hers." Camille's smile was audible. "Wouldn't that be poetic?"