Chapter 316

The tension was palpable as Isabella Sinclair stole a wary glance at Alexander Kingsley.

What game was he playing now?

The air between them crackled with unspoken hostility.

"Just standard merchandise. I'm merely conducting routine business," Nathaniel Prescott adjusted his glasses, his polished features masking simmering irritation beneath a practiced smile. "Mr. Kingsley, your imagination is truly remarkable. Even if you harbor prejudices against me, you shouldn't recklessly speculate about someone's integrity or belittle their accomplishments."

Alexander smirked, his lips curling with quiet amusement.

"Our paths diverge, Mr. Kingsley. You've had the privilege of the Kingsley Group's legacy—a prodigy in the corporate world, the anointed heir of Mr. Reginald. Someone like you, born with a silver spoon, could never comprehend the struggles of an entrepreneur starting from nothing."

Isabella listened, her long lashes fluttering as she sipped her champagne. Forgotten memories resurfaced in her mind.

No one understood better than her that Alexander's position in the Kingsley Group was far from the effortless ascent Nathaniel implied.

His journey had been anything but smooth.

"I didn't expect a casual inquiry to provoke such a passionate defense, Mr. Prescott. My apologies if I've made you uncomfortable. Consider the rumors I heard in Helgen just that—gossip."

Alexander chuckled, his striking face radiating an intimidating aura, his dark eyes burning with intensity. "And you're mistaken about one thing. I don't hold any prejudice against you—except when you get too close to Isabella. Then, my distrust is absolute. From head to toe. Inside and out."

Nathaniel clenched his jaw, his aristocratic features tightening.

Deborah, caught between them, suppressed a delighted grin, her high status preventing her from openly enjoying their verbal sparring. She bit her lip, stifling her laughter.

This homecoming was turning out to be far more entertaining than she'd anticipated.

"Alexander, have you said enough?"

Isabella had reached her limit, her sharp gaze slicing into the man beside her. "One more word, and I swear I'll smack you with a baseball bat."

Alexander's breath hitched, his hand on the table curling into a fist.

Then, slowly, he reached for her, his fingers grazing the delicate curve of her wrist, his rough fingertips brushing against her soft skin.

"Isabella, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"

He was devastatingly handsome, shamelessly clingy, and unbearably sweet.

Who could resist him?

The warmth of his touch sent tingles up her arm, wrapping around her racing heart like a vine.

Seeing her silence, Alexander grew more desperate, leaning closer, his voice husky with pleading. "Or hit me with that bat if it makes you feel better—just wait until we're home. I may not mean much to you, but I still have a reputation to uphold. Spare me some dignity, Miss Sinclair?"

Deborah barely contained her laughter, thoroughly entertained.

"You—just sit there and behave!" Isabella huffed, turning away.

Alexander's gaze lingered on her pouting lips, his heart aching with longing.

At thirty, he was still helpless against her every word and expression, like a lovestruck teenager.

The stage lights dimmed.

A spotlight descended, illuminating the platform.

The announcer's voice boomed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience! Please welcome tonight's star—Mrs. Seraphina!"

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause and cheers.

"Seraphina! Seraphina!" Isabella clapped, her hands reddening from the force.

From the shadows, Emeric, resplendent in a tailored tuxedo, led Seraphina onto the stage.

"Damn! Dad looks incredible!" Aaron exclaimed, admiring his father's youthful energy.

"Dressed like that, you'd think he's getting remarried tonight!" Arnold added excitedly.

"Remarried? At this rate, he'd be on his fifth wedding!"

Jareth teased, his fingers entwined with Marie's under the table. "At least it's still countable on one hand."

Two icy glares immediately shot his way—from Suri and Aviana.

Jareth quickly retreated, not daring to push further.

Hungry, Arnold stealthily grabbed a slice of cake, stuffing it into his mouth when no one was looking.

Camille, at the neighboring table, caught him red-handed.

"Mr. Arnold, are you stealing food?"

Startled, Arnold choked on the cake, coughing violently.

Camille burst into laughter at the sight of his flushed face as he gulped water, clutching his chest.

This woman—first wrecking his car, now nearly suffocating him—was clearly sent by fate to torment him.

"I'm eating at my own party, in my own hotel. How is that stealing?" Arnold snapped, irritated.

"Even so, the elders haven't started yet. Where are your manners?"

Camille leaned back, her laughter playful and teasing.

She reminded him of his little sister.

His annoyance faded at the sound of her mirth. It wasn't worth it.

"Look at Seraphina's black and red gown! Isn't it stunning?"

"Absolutely mesmerizing! She's a vision!"

Every guest's attention was riveted on Seraphina, captivated by her dress. Alexander couldn't help but glance at her, his pupils contracting in shock.

That dazzling gown—wasn't it the one Isabella had designed in Camille's studio?

"My God, am I seeing things?"

Someone suddenly stood, exclaiming, "Isn't this a Haron original?"

"What? Haron?"

"I can't believe I'm witnessing a Haron creation in my lifetime! I could die happy!"

"I'd kill to touch it!"

"Only the Sinclair family could pull this off. Haron hasn't been seen in years, yet she emerges to design a birthday gown for Seraphina! Chairman Emeric's influence is unmatched!"

"Meanwhile, the Abernathy matriarch celebrating her birthday tonight? Even if she begged, Haron wouldn't design for her."

Alexander's eyes widened in disbelief as he turned to Isabella, who wore a faint smile.

Shock and awe flooded his expression.

So, she was Haron.

Not just Alea—but Haron too.

Alexander's breath grew ragged, his nerves electrified.

How could one person possess so many extraordinary talents, each revered worldwide?

His woman was nothing short of divine.

Isabella felt his burning gaze and met his eyes, startled by their intensity.

"Why are you staring at me like that? Rabies acting up?" she quipped.

"I never imagined you were Haron," Alexander murmured, utterly captivated.

"Is it really that surprising? It's not like you're meeting Haron for the first time."

Isabella laughed dismissively, shifting her gaze from his tense face. "Alea crafted a tie pin for you. Haron tailored your suits."

Alexander's heart clenched, his eyes darkening with regret.

He had worn that tie pin daily.

Every night, he'd sit alone, polishing it meticulously, treasuring it as she must have treasured him while making it.

"Yeah, well, who I was never mattered to you. My gifts—like me—were left to gather dust."

Isabella propped her chin on her hand, watching the stage with unspoken melancholy.

"Isabella, I was wrong. I failed you. But now, I'd defy the world before failing you again." Alexander's voice was raw with sincerity. "I know earning your trust won't be easy. You may never give me another chance. But I won't stop trying—not until my heart does."

"Alexander, some things can't be undone. Some eggs can't be unscrambled."

Isabella finally looked at him, her gaze cool and detached.

"Even if it were possible, it wouldn't be the same. It'd be a mess. A disaster."

The party reached its peak as Seraphina's gown stole the spotlight.

Guests discreetly photographed her, and within minutes, the news of Haron designing for Seraphina trended globally.

[Seraphina, Emeric's wife—a has-been actress? How does she rate a Haron original?]

[That black and red gown is breathtaking!]

[Why not? Seraphina was a TV legend! My parents still adore her!]

[True fan here—age showing.]

[Please, she's just a mistress who popped out a kid for Emeric. Does she deserve Haron's artistry?]

[Stay bitter! That "mistress" lifestyle is worth billions! I'd wife up as number five if it meant that life!]

The comment racked up thousands of likes.

[The world's gone mad.]

[Love can't compete with money.]

[Meanwhile, Elspeth Abernathy's birthday is a ghost town. No glamorous gown, no guests—just humiliation. A mistress outshining the wife! Pathetic.]

[Haron would never design for a schemer like Elspeth. It'd tarnish her legacy.]

Isabella monitored the buzz, sending a voice note to Jason.

"Keep PR on standby. Suppress any negativity about Seraphina. Monitor comments every five minutes."

"Yes, Miss Sinclair."

"And keep the hype alive for now."

Jason hesitated. "But Chairman Emeric and Seraphina wanted a low-key celebration."

Isabella sighed.

They underestimated Haron's influence.

Her designs always caused a sensation.

The fashion world worshipped her.

Now that Seraphina wore a Haron original, the frenzy was inevitable. Why not let her have the grand birthday she deserved?

Plus, it served Elspeth right.

That clown must be seething.

Hilarious.

"Damn that Seraphina! That witch!"

In the hotel's presidential suite, Elspeth hurled anything within reach, her rage unquenched. Finally, she smashed a crystal ashtray into the massive TV, shattering it.

"Mom! Calm down!" Glynnis trembled, pale with fear.

"Calm down? That nobody is wearing a Haron gown! How dare she?"

Elspeth's sanity frayed, her eyes wild with fury.

One thought consumed her.

She wanted Seraphina dead.