Chapter 159

Even after leaving the hospital, Isabella couldn't shake her worry for Mr. Sinclair's condition.

She needed to reach out to Olivia once she got home. The Lockwood family had generations of renowned physicians, their medical expertise unparalleled in the country. If anyone could find a cure for Mr. Sinclair, it would be them.

During the drive back, Daniel was glued to his phone, scrolling through social media. Every time he stumbled upon a particularly vicious comment about Victoria, he'd read it aloud to Isabella with glee.

"Damn, these trolls are savage! Normally, I'd find them insufferable, but today? Pure entertainment. Some of these burns are legendary—I'm screenshotting them!" Daniel cackled, wiping tears from his eyes as he scrolled through the vitriol.

Gazing out the window, Isabella's mind drifted to the gold cufflinks Alexander had worn that night. A wave of revulsion washed over her.

Every gift she'd ever given him now felt like a stain on her past.

She'd rather smash them to pieces than let them remain tied to Alexander in any way.

"Isabella." Sebastian's voice was soft as he rested a comforting hand on the nape of her neck. "Nathaniel has George and Miranda in custody at his office. Just got word—George cracked under questioning and confessed. Miranda, though? She's stonewalling. No matter what Nathaniel asks, she insists it was all her idea."

"Miranda may be ruthless, but she's still a mother."

Isabella pushed aside the tangled emotions Alexander had stirred in her. Her tone was crisp, detached. "With Mr. Kingsley critically ill and her eldest son behind bars, Victoria is her last hope. Of course she'd protect her at all costs."

This had been Isabella's plan from the start—luring Miranda out while setting an inescapable trap.

She'd sent Adrian to tail Miranda overseas. Despite her cunning, Miranda was just a spoiled socialite with no counter-surveillance skills. She never noticed Adrian shadowing her to the orphanage where she'd hidden her illegitimate granddaughter.

Adrian's report had been grim. The place was little better than a slum, the children filthy and neglected. The sight had sickened him. Women like Miranda and Victoria didn't deserve to breathe the same air as decent people.

Miranda had taken the girl from the orphanage, but she lacked the stomach for murder. Instead, she'd hired a desperate local woman to do the deed.

Luckily, Adrian intervened in time. Using Isabella's private jet, he'd brought the girl back to New York, where she was now safe under police protection.

"That child is Miranda's own flesh and blood—her granddaughter. And she tried to have her killed!"

Sebastian's eyes darkened with fury. "She never loved that girl. This was all a cold calculation, weighing risks and rewards. All she cares about is securing Victoria's place in high society."

Isabella nodded. "Exactly."

"Don't worry, Isabella. Nathaniel and I will make sure Miranda rots in prison. As for George?"

Daniel cracked his knuckles, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "He thinks jail is the end? Oh no. His nightmare is just beginning."

The birthday gala had turned the Kingsley empire upside down.

Alexander had been camped at the hospital with his grandfather, while Frederick and his wife were too embroiled in the scandal surrounding Miranda and Victoria to even visit. The fallout had consumed them entirely.

"Mr. Kingsley, the online backlash is getting worse. Should we have PR step in?" Adrian asked, concerned about the damage to Alexander's reputation.

Alexander sat slumped in the hospital hallway, his complexion ashen.

One knee drawn up, the other stretched out, his head leaned against the cold wall, the curve of his neck a portrait of desolation. Even in despair, he was breathtaking.

"Let them talk. They're not wrong."

Alexander closed his eyes, loosening his tie, but the suffocating weight remained. "I deserve this."

"Sir, don't say that."

Adrian swallowed hard. "You were deceived by Victoria too. You're a victim in this."

Victim.

Alexander's chest tightened. The only true victim he could think of was Isabella.

He had been Victoria's pawn, her weapon.

The harm he'd suffered came from Victoria—but hadn't Isabella suffered at his hands?

"Mr. Kingsley!"

A voice rang down the hallway. Sophia hurried toward him, arms laden with bags.

"Sophia?" Alexander stood quickly, taking the bags from her. "What are you doing here?"

"Adrian told me about Mr. Sinclair. I brought you some essentials—toiletries, a change of clothes. And snacks for you both."

She nudged Alexander back onto the bench and began unpacking containers of still-warm food.

"I'm not hungry. Let Adrian have it." Alexander stared at the steam rising from the containers, touched by the gesture.

But after everything, even with his resolve, his appetite was nonexistent.

"Not hungry either! Thanks though, Sophia!" Adrian shook his head vigorously. If the boss wasn't eating, neither would he.

"Eat. Both of you."

Sophia took one look at Alexander's exhausted face, grabbed a sandwich, and shoved it into his hands. "You're running yourself ragged over that fraud Victoria, skipping meals? Where's your self-respect? Don't make me lose respect for you!"

Alexander gave a wry smile, forcing himself to take a bite. "Who said it was about her?"

"Then why the long face? Is it about Mrs. Kingsley?" Sophia arched a brow.

Alexander flushed—whether from embarrassment or nearly choking, it was hard to say. "It's about my grandfather."

"Mr. Kingsley, since we're at the hospital, why not get a full check-up tomorrow?"

Sophia smirked. "Let's see if that stubborn pride of yours is the only thing that's hardened."

Adrian stifled a laugh behind his hand. Sophia had nerves of steel.

"Sophia."

Alexander's throat tightened, but his voice was ice. "I made mistakes. I hurt Isabella because of Victoria. But even without Victoria, I would've divorced her. Our marriage was arranged by my grandfather. There was never any love between us. No regrets."

"Three years. Three whole years, Mr. Kingsley! Mrs. Kingsley loved you with everything she had. Anyone with half a heart would've been moved by that. Are you telling me you felt nothing for her? Not even a little?" Sophia's voice was hoarse with intensity.

"I don't love Isabella."

Alexander's heart lurched. His lips were dry as he forced out each word. "But if I didn't love her... why did I marry her?"

The words hung heavy in the air. Adrian felt a pang of sorrow.

He knew Alexander cared for Isabella. He had to.

But the scars of his childhood—his mother's suicide, his family's cruelty, the betrayals by those he'd trusted—had left him unable to face his own emotions, to open his heart.

"Mr. Kingsley, admitting you were wrong doesn't make you weak. What's pride compared to happiness? If swallowing your ego means winning back Mrs. Kingsley, I'll help you do it!" Sophia exhaled sharply.

Alexander frowned. "Sophia—"

"Me too!" Adrian thrust his hand up. "I'll do whatever it takes!"

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh! Almost forgot."

Sophia dug into her pocket and handed Alexander a small recorder. "Some guy showed up at my place tonight—said this was for you. Looked like he stepped out of a magazine."

Alexander took it, curious. "Who was he?"

"Claimed he worked for the Lockwoods."

Alexander and Adrian exchanged glances. Without hesitation, Alexander pressed play.