Chapter 310

The grand ballroom shimmered with crystal chandeliers and the murmur of elite conversations. Isabella Sinclair and Nathan Prescott stood near the champagne fountain, engaged in what appeared to be a pleasant exchange.

As the newly appointed CEO of Sinclair Holdings, Nathan had swiftly taken control of multiple high-profile subsidiaries. Being the favored eldest son, it was only a matter of time before he inherited the entire Sinclair empire.

Isabella, the eldest daughter of the Kingsley family, was equally poised to inherit K Group. Despite the Ashbourne family's impartial stance, Nathan still found it prudent to maintain cordial relations with her.

Though Nathan privately disapproved of the Kingsley family's polygamous traditions, he masked his disdain behind a polished smile.

"President Kingsley," Nathan began smoothly, raising his glass, "I hear K Group is making impressive strides in Elmsworth. Your momentum is remarkable. Our families have a long history—our fathers were practically brothers. I hope we can carry that legacy forward."

Isabella tilted her glass in acknowledgment, her lips curving slightly.

"Should K Group have any promising ventures in Elmsworth, I hope you'll consider Sinclair Holdings as a partner," Nathan continued, taking a measured sip. "Together, we could dominate not just Elmsworth, but the entire country."

"Mr. Sinclair, I appreciate the sentiment," Isabella replied, her voice calm, "but I’m afraid I’ll be stepping back soon."

Nathan and his wife, Victoria, exchanged puzzled glances. "President Kingsley, what do you mean?"

"Being CEO was never my ambition," Isabella admitted, her gaze softening as she thought of her younger sister. "I only took the role to support my father, to give my siblings the freedom to chase their dreams without the burden of corporate responsibilities."

She paused, her smile deepening. "Now that my sister, Arabella, has returned—eager, capable, and passionate about business—I intend to pass the reins to her once the transition is complete."

Nathan's expression faltered. "You're saying Chairman Kingsley plans to appoint Arabella as CEO?"

"Precisely," Isabella confirmed without hesitation.

It was no secret that Arabella was the family's chosen successor. Among the Kingsley heirs, none matched her brilliance.

"But Arabella is so young," Victoria interjected gently. "Shouldn't she be enjoying her youth? In a few years, she'll marry and focus on her family. That’s the natural path for an heiress, isn’t it?"

Nathan nodded in agreement. "And with so many talented brothers, surely one of them could take the helm. Isn’t this too much pressure for a young woman?"

Isabella chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Arabella isn’t like most women. If you tried to confine her to domestic life, she’d flee abroad again—only returning when I’m on my deathbed."

She took a sip of champagne, her tone turning fond yet firm. "So, to keep her close, I’ll gladly step aside. Whatever she desires, if it’s within my power, I’ll give it to her."

Victoria blinked, stunned.

The Sinclair family had four children, all from the same mother, yet they were constantly at each other’s throats.

The Kingsleys, with multiple wives and numerous heirs, should have been a battleground. Instead, they willingly sacrificed personal gain for one another.

Unbelievable.

Nathan offered polite praise, but inwardly, he scoffed at Isabella’s lack of ambition. Sacrificing her future for a sister? Foolish.

"Mr. Sinclair!"

Nathan’s secretary hurried over, hesitating when he noticed Victoria’s presence.

"Excuse me," Nathan said smoothly, stepping aside.

Isabella nodded. "Of course."

The moment Nathan left, Victoria’s smile vanished.

"What is it?" Nathan demanded in a low voice.

"Vanessa is here," the secretary whispered, wiping his brow. "She was stopped at the entrance by the Kingsley security. She’s making a scene—insulted Miss Lillian Kingsley. It’s already reached Arabella’s ears."

Nathan’s jaw tightened. "Get rid of her."

"But, sir, Arabella won’t let this go unless you intervene."

Nathan adjusted his cufflinks, his expression darkening. "Fine."

Arabella wanted to deal with Vanessa immediately, but Lillian begged her to handle it discreetly, fearing their parents would hear of the scandal.

Now, in a secluded antechamber, Vanessa stood trembling between two towering bodyguards. Her earlier arrogance had evaporated.

Arabella lounged elegantly on a velvet sofa, Lillian beside her. Nathaniel, her secretary, offered them a platter of fresh fruit.

Arabella fed her sister a strawberry, her demeanor relaxed, but her eyes held a dangerous glint.

"Nathaniel mentioned Vanessa insulted you quite viciously that night," Arabella remarked, her tone deceptively light.

Vanessa shuddered, her knees buckling.

Arabella’s presence was suffocating—a woman who commanded fear effortlessly.

"Arabella, let me handle this," Lillian pleaded, her voice shaky. "It’s between Vanessa and me. You shouldn’t get involved."

Arabella stroked Lillian’s hair, her voice softening. "Sweetheart, I know you’re trying to protect me. But this is my gift to you—a lesson on how to deal with those who forget their place."

Vanessa’s breath hitched. Her only hope now was Nathan.

The doors swung open.

Nathan strode in, his gaze icy.

Nathaniel’s expression darkened at the sight of him—a reminder of past humiliations.

"Mr. Sinclair! Help me!" Vanessa cried, tears streaking her makeup. "I’ve been framed!"

Nathan’s lips thinned. Vanessa was just another fling—a meaningless distraction. Now she’d dragged him into her mess.

"Ms. Kingsley," Nathan said coolly, "what seems to be the issue?"

"Your companion assaulted my secretary and insulted my sister," Arabella replied, her smile razor-sharp. "I thought you’d want to clean up your own mess. It’s beneath me to dirty my hands."

Nathan understood. This wasn’t just about Vanessa—Arabella was challenging him.

"Apologize," Nathan ordered Vanessa.

"I’m sorry! I was blind, I was stupid!" Vanessa sobbed, bowing frantically.

Arabella arched a brow. "An apology isn’t enough."

Nathan’s jaw clenched. "Nathaniel."

Without hesitation, Nathaniel stepped forward and struck Vanessa—hard.

The sharp crack echoed. Vanessa collapsed, blood trickling from her lip.

Lillian flinched, turning away.

"Don’t look," Arabella murmured, shielding her sister. "Nathaniel, comfort her."

Lillian blushed. Nathaniel hesitated, his pulse racing.

"Later," Arabella amended with a smirk. She rose, guiding Lillian toward the exit.

As she passed Nathan, she tossed over her shoulder, "This room is quite private. Do hurry—the banquet is starting."

The door clicked shut.

Minutes later, Nathan emerged alone, his Patek Philippe watch smeared with blood. Behind him, faint whimpers faded into silence.

"Clean this up," he ordered his secretary.

Then, his lips curled into a chilling smile.

"Arabella Kingsley," he mused, cracking his knuckles. "It’s been years since anyone dared challenge me—least of all a woman. If she wants to play, I’ll play."

Arabella’s fury had been for Lillian’s sake, and it felt satisfying.

But Lillian was uneasy.

Tactfully, Arabella excused herself, leaving Nathaniel alone with Lillian on the moonlit balcony.

Lillian shivered in the evening breeze. Nathaniel immediately draped his jacket over her shoulders.

"Did you tell Arabella about Vanessa?" Lillian asked quietly.

Nathaniel swallowed. "Yes."

"Why?" Lillian’s voice trembled. "My problems are mine to handle. Why drag her into this? She’s already overwhelmed. And now Nathan is involved—do you think he’ll let this go?"

"Miss Lillian—"

"You’re her secretary!" Lillian’s eyes flashed. "You should protect her, not make her a target!"

Nathaniel’s chest ached. Suddenly, he gripped her shoulders, his gaze burning.

"I couldn’t stand it," he confessed hoarsely. "Hearing that woman insult you—I wanted to tear her apart. I couldn’t bear her hurting you."

Lillian’s breath caught.

His hands trembled against her skin. "I know I overstepped. I’ll apologize to Arabella. But I couldn’t stay silent. Not when it comes to you."

Lillian’s lashes fluttered. Slowly, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

She remembered something she’d once read:

Love is the courage of the timid, the generosity of the poor, the gamble of the cautious.

It’s the stuttered confession of the inarticulate.

And above all—the relentless pursuit of something impossible, without hesitation.