Chapter 179

The moment Alexander pulled up to the diner, Isabella and that man were long gone.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression hardening at the memory of that photo—Isabella cozying up to some stranger.

Standing there, he felt like a complete fool.

Worry gnawed at him, but so did doubt.

Isabella had been eating at this shady place past midnight with some sketchy guy. Didn’t she realize how dangerous that was?

His phone buzzed abruptly. An unknown number.

Alexander exhaled sharply before answering. "Who is this?"

"Mr. Kingsley?" A woman’s voice.

"Yeah. Speaking."

"This is the Eastern District Police Department. Is Gordon your employee?"

Alexander frowned. "He’s my assistant. What’s going on?"

"We need you to come down to the station. We’ll explain when you arrive."

The night had taken a surreal turn.

As his car sped through the streets, Alexander’s mind raced. He couldn’t fathom how Gordon—who wouldn’t hurt a fly—had ended up in police custody.

He hurried into the station, nearly colliding with a tall man in a sleek leather jacket.

The same man from the photo, touching Isabella like they were close.

Nathaniel spotted Alexander immediately, his sharp gaze cutting right through him.

A smirk curled his lips. "Alexander Kingsley? Here to bail out Gordon?"

Alexander’s glare was icy. "What’s it to you?"

Nathaniel chuckled. "Funny you ask. I’m the one who brought him in. So yeah, it concerns me."

Alexander’s jaw tightened. "Is this some kind of petty revenge?"

"Revenge?"

"You’re targeting my assistant because he caught you with Isabella, aren’t you?"

Alexander was furious. He couldn’t see past the man in front of him, convinced he was just another guy chasing after her.

Nathaniel burst out laughing. "A CEO with that kind of logic? Truly a miracle."

Alexander shot back, "A 'service industry' guy waltzing into a police station playing victim? Bold."

Nathaniel blinked.

What the hell was this guy talking about? Service industry? Did he look like some gigolo?

If anything, with that pretty face and sculpted body, Alexander could probably fetch a high price.

Just then, two officers passed by, nodding respectfully at Nathaniel.

"Captain Sinclair!"

Nathaniel acknowledged them with a casual nod.

Alexander froze.

This wasn’t some thug.

He was a cop.

Captain Sinclair? Isabella Sinclair?

Now that he looked closer, those sharp eyes and defined jawline—they were eerily familiar.

"Nathaniel!"

A familiar voice cut through the tension.

Alexander turned slowly.

Isabella stood a few steps behind him, her gaze colder than ice.

"Isabella, what are you doing here?"

Ignoring Alexander, Nathaniel strode over. "I told you I’d handle this. You should be resting."

"No. This is my fight."

Then she turned to Alexander, her stare so distant it made his chest ache.

Since the divorce, she’d always been like this—cold, detached. Before, it had fueled his resentment. Now, it terrified him.

He’d rather she screamed, hit him, anything but this indifference.

"Isabella," he rasped.

"Alexander. Outside. Now."

She didn’t wait for him, turning on her heel.

Alexander moved to follow, but Nathaniel blocked him.

"Listen, Mr. CEO," Nathaniel said lowly. "We’re in a police station. If you so much as breathe wrong near my sister, I’ll cuff you myself."

"You’re a Sinclair. Then you know about me and Isabella."

Alexander forced his temper down, voice tight. "When she was my wife, we respected each other. Now, you have even less reason to interfere."

Nathaniel scoffed. "In my line of work, men who stalk their ex-wives are either psychos or future felons. Never the harmless type."

Alexander had no retort.

Outside, in the dimly lit alley behind the station, Isabella faced him, shadows stretching between them.

"Alexander."

"Are you drunk?"

Before she could answer, he stepped closer, his broad frame blocking the light.

Isabella instinctively backed against the wall as he leaned in, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"This guy’s strong," he murmured. "Think you can handle him? Remember that night at the club when you got wasted? In three years of marriage, you never touched alcohol."

Her eyes flashed. "I have a high tolerance. I don’t get drunk. I’ve always loved drinking—life’s too dull without it. You just never knew the real me."

"Because you never showed me." His voice was rough with bitterness. "You were never honest."

She tilted her head, lips glinting red under the light. "Alexander, you’re an expert at playing the victim, aren’t you?"

Her words were like knives. "Have you forgotten what kind of husband you were? Even if I had opened up, you wouldn’t have cared. You were done with me. Why would I give you more reasons to hate me?"

Now, she could say it all without hesitation.

But each word tore through him.

All her masks had been for him.

Just like Victoria had played the innocent, faking sweetness—even depression—to manipulate him.

And Isabella? She’d pretended just so he wouldn’t despise her.

The realization was agony.

His throat burned, eyes reddening. But before he could speak, she cut in coldly.

"Alexander, I know why you had Gordon follow me. Evelyn’s wedding is coming. I’m your biggest competition now. Spying on a rival? I get it. But you won the first round. Evelyn chose your event. So why keep tailing me? Why sneak photos of Nathaniel?"

Her voice dripped disdain.

"That’s low, even for you."

That’s low.