Chapter 155

The entire room froze in shock, all gazes locked onto Isabella Sinclair.

Everyone understood the police wouldn't make such a dramatic arrest without irrefutable evidence.

The conclusion was inevitable - Isabella had hired an assassin to do her dirty work.

Staring at the cold metal cuffs around her wrists, Isabella felt her world plunge into utter darkness.

How? How could this happen?

She'd vetted the hitman thoroughly. Paid top dollar. Conducted everything overseas. How had it unraveled?

"Isabella! Isabella!"

Nathaniel Prescott watched in horror as officers led his daughter away. His heart pounded violently before a sharp pain lanced through his chest. Darkness swallowed his vision as he collapsed.

"Call an ambulance! Now!" Frederick Prescott barked, his face ghostly pale as staff rushed to assist the unconscious patriarch.

Oliver Sinclair gaped, muttering, "Holy hell, Isabella just got arrested for murder! This is tonight's headline!"

Alexander Kingsley observed the scene impassively, showing no intention of aiding the Prescott family.

"Play with lives, pay the price," he remarked coolly.

Under the crowd's stunned scrutiny, Isabella was escorted out. As she passed Evelyn Prescott, their eyes met - and that single glance shattered Evelyn completely.

"Stop! She didn't kill anyone!" Evelyn screamed, only to hear fabric slithering down her body.

Gasps erupted as her designer off-shoulder gown pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in only undergarments before the entire gala.

"Ahhh!" Evelyn shrieked, crossing her arms over her exposed chest in humiliation.

Margaret Laurent instantly regretted organizing this birthday celebration. The disaster unfolding was beyond mortifying.

Meanwhile, Vanessa Wright sipped champagne in a shadowed corner, grinning wildly at Evelyn's spectacular downfall. Guests already had phones out, capturing every scandalous moment.

"Honestly, nothing special to see. You dodged a bullet breaking up with her," Oliver commented lazily, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Alexander felt their decade-long friendship had become some cruel cosmic joke.

He turned sharply and strode toward the exit.

"Alexander, wait!" Evelyn cried out desperately - then realized too late she'd just fully exposed herself again.

"Oh my God! Look at Evelyn's stomach! Those marks!"

"Stretch marks! Definitely stretch marks!"

"I've had three children - those are 100% pregnancy stretch marks!"

"Disgusting! She's already had a child and still played the virgin?!"

"Poor Mr. Kingsley nearly married that fraud!"

It was over.

Evelyn's dreams of becoming a CEO's wife evaporated in that instant.

In the hallway, Alexander walked with leaden steps. Oliver followed quietly, struggling to find words.

"Do I look pathetic? Stupid? Laughable?" Alexander's voice emerged hoarse and raw.

Oliver shook his head firmly. "No. You're my brother, Alex. I'd never laugh at you. I just... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Alexander closed his eyes, purging all memories of Evelyn from his mind.

"Don't be. My blindness caused this."

"Not for that." Oliver's expression twisted in pain. "I'm sorry about those three years with Arabella. Without Evelyn's interference... maybe you two could have been happy together."

Happy together.

Alexander froze mid-step, his vision blurring.

"Alexander, can we... not divorce? Because... I love you." Arabella's voice echoed hauntingly in his mind.

A searing pain lanced through his chest. He braced against the wall, fingers trembling violently. The suffocating agony was unbearable.

Back then, when Arabella had begged through tears not to end their marriage, he'd dismissed it as desperation. He'd seen their union as a cage to escape.

Now he understood.

Arabella hadn't been trying to trap him. That confession had been her laying bare her soul, sacrificing all dignity just to remain in his life.

She'd known he didn't love her.

Yet she'd fought to stay, terrified divorce would strip her right to love him entirely.

"That child looked three or four years old," Oliver continued grimly. "Meaning Evelyn was sleeping with George while still stringing you along, making you believe she was suffering abroad waiting for you. The truth? She had a whole secret life."

Alexander's entire body shook, each breath feeling like shards of glass in his lungs.

"Evelyn always had other lovers. You were just one option." Oliver met his gaze squarely. "But Arabella? Her heart only ever held you. Remember that rainy night you went to her place? Know what she told me?"

Alexander stared blankly, sweat beading on his forehead.

"I confessed to her. She refused me point blank." Oliver gave a bitter smile. "She said she'd never love anyone but Alexander Kingsley. And if she lost you, she'd never love again."

Alexander's pupils contracted violently. The pain was a sword through his ribs, every nerve ending screaming.

"Arabella, you swore you'd never love another. So our meeting wasn't three years ago. I've been in your life far longer, haven't I? I need answers, Arabella. Damn it, I need the truth!"

His phone buzzed abruptly. Seeing Lawrence Bennett's caller ID, Alexander's stomach dropped - had something happened to Mr. Blackwood? He answered immediately. "Lawrence? Is Mr. Blackwood alright?"

"Mr. Kingsley! Mr. Blackwood's had a stroke! Get to Grand Marquis Hospital now!"

"What?!" Alexander's blood ran cold.

"Don't panic - he's stabilized in a regular ward. Out of critical condition." Lawrence's voice held palpable relief. "Thank God for Ms. Sinclair. Her first aid bought crucial time. Without her, Mr. Blackwood might not have made it!"

Heat scalded Alexander's cheeks. The humiliation burned like a brand.