Chapter 194

Isabella's eyes widened in shock as she pushed Nathaniel away, stumbling back until her spine hit the refrigerator door.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her cheeks burning scarlet. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

Even through the mask, she could still feel the heat of his lips against hers. The memory made her flush deeper.

That was completely unacceptable!

Breathless and furious, Isabella tore off her mask and hurled it to the floor.

Ruined. Absolutely ruined.

Nathaniel slowly straightened, leaning against the counter. His gaze was heavy, like a predator who'd just feasted. His lips were slightly parted.

Despite his composed exterior, his pulse hammered wildly in his chest.

"Did I hurt your back?" Nathaniel asked.

His voice was low, distracted, as if still lost in the kiss. But his expression remained unreadable.

"None of your damn business!"

Isabella noticed the empty plate where her homemade pastries had been. Her jaw clenched. "Nathaniel, who gave you the right to eat my food? I didn't make those for you!"

"I missed your baking," he admitted quietly. "You used to make them for me all the time."

Nathaniel wasn't one to indulge in sweets. He often skipped meals when busy.

But seeing Isabella's effort, something primal had taken over. He'd devoured them without thinking.

As if afraid he'd never get another chance.

"Those days are over," she scoffed. "Back then, you were my husband. Cooking for you was my duty. But now? I'd rather feed them to stray dogs than waste them on you."

Nathaniel's chest tightened. His dark eyes clouded.

He searched her face, but the woman who'd once spent hours in the kitchen for him was gone.

Had love really vanished so completely?

Isabella ignored his rigid stance. She strode forward, carefully placed the remaining pastries on a tray, and locked them in the cabinet.

No more stealing.

"I overstepped earlier," Nathaniel murmured. "I didn't realize those pastries meant so much to you. I apologize."

Her lashes flickered. She turned away, scrubbing her hands under the faucet. "Why are you here? Spit it out. I have work to do, and you're wasting my time."

Nathaniel swallowed hard. "I came to tell you—I'm no longer handling Ada's wedding arrangements."

The water ran over Isabella's fingers. She laughed coldly. "Obviously. Ada signed with Kingsley World Hotel. All you're left with is damage control for Abernathy's reputation."

Ignoring her jab, he continued, "Frederic handed everything to Victoria."

Isabella turned, brow arched.

"You're smart. You know this isn't just about the wedding." His voice dropped, laced with concern.

"So you came to warn me?" She smirked, hand on her hip. "How noble. Or are you just bitter about losing and hoping I'll take Victoria down for you?"

Nathaniel's lips twitched.

Oddly, he found her sharp tongue amusing—when it wasn't aimed at him.

"Victoria isn't the real threat," he said. "Elspeth is. She's cunning, unpredictable. I don't want them blindsiding you."

Isabella's gaze hardened. She turned back to the sink.

"I've said what I needed to. I'll leave you to your work."

Nathaniel studied her stiff shoulders before turning to go.

"Wait."

His heart lurched. He spun around.

"Why tell me this?" Isabella faced him, eyes narrowed. "You're not one to sabotage your own family's interests. No matter who handles Ada's wedding, it benefits Abernathy Group. So why help me?"

"Because I want you to win."

Each word was deliberate. His gaze, for once, held no guile.

"Why?"

"I was your husband once."

She barked a laugh. "Three years of marriage, and you never gave an inch. Now that we're divorced, you're suddenly playing knight in shining armor? Get out."

Enough.

Nathaniel coughed, throat suddenly tight.

The Fairhaven Estate

That evening, Edith summoned Victoria to her private study. The door was locked.

"Why the urgency?" Victoria asked, irritated.

"It's been five days since Kingsley World announced their deal with Ada," Edith said coolly. "Have you made progress?"

Victoria bristled. "I'm not a miracle worker. These things take time."

"Luckily for you, I am."

Edith smirked, savoring her superiority. She walked to the piano, lifted the lid, and tossed a file at Victoria's feet.

Victoria bit back her fury and picked it up. A photo of a young woman stared back.

"Caroline Porter. Reporter for The Daily Chronicle," Edith said, idly pressing piano keys.

"Never heard of it."

"Her father was Keith Porter—former deputy manager of Kingsley World. He embezzled funds with Ives until Isabella exposed him. Two-year sentence, but his life is over."

Victoria's eyes lit up. "So Caroline hates Isabella?"

Edith rolled her eyes.

Finally.

"Caroline's family was ruined because of Isabella. Use that."

Victoria's smile turned vicious. "Looks like I need to pay Ms. Porter a visit."