Chapter 388

The moment Isabella stepped out of Alexander's Rolls Royce, the Sinclair family froze in shock.

Eleanor's brows knitted together in disbelief.

Alexander Kingsley was notorious for his impeccable standards and icy demeanor.

Apart from his own children, no one—not even Sebastian, the most powerful among the Vanderbilts—had ever been granted the privilege of riding in his car.

Yet here was Isabella, not only sharing his vehicle but standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The sight was nothing short of astonishing.

If Eleanor's memory served her right, Alexander had been downright dismissive of Isabella just days ago. What could have caused this dramatic shift?

"Isabella, you're looking much better. I'm so relieved," Eleanor finally broke the tense silence.

With warmth sparkling in her emerald eyes, Isabella approached Eleanor holding a bouquet of vibrant pink peonies. "To celebrate your discharge from the hospital."

Eleanor blinked at the fresh blooms, momentarily speechless.

"Thank you," she murmured, accepting the flowers.

"I picked these at dawn from the greenhouse. They reminded me of you—radiant and resilient." Isabella's sincerity shone through her words.

The Sinclair siblings exchanged loaded glances, sensing the charged atmosphere.

"That's... very thoughtful of you." Eleanor's grip tightened around the stems, her lips parting slightly as her gaze grew distant.

"I'd do anything for you." The intensity in Isabella's voice made Eleanor's breath hitch.

Eleanor bit her lower lip, at a loss for words.

This unexpected declaration hit harder than the fragrance of the peonies.

Sebastian watched their interaction, his throat burning with a bitterness that tasted like copper.

Then his chest constricted.

Alexander emerged from the vehicle, standing protectively beside Isabella like a father presenting his prized heir.

Isabella smiled up at him with effortless familiarity, blending seamlessly into the Sinclair dynasty.

When Alexander patted her shoulder approvingly, Sebastian's vision tinted red. His fist collided with a nearby oak tree.

He couldn't stomach this!

But what could he do? Storm over and upset Eleanor further?

He'd rather die than cause her more pain.

"Thought you were made of tougher stuff," a mocking voice drawled behind him. "Turns out you're just punching trees like some lovesick teenager."

Sebastian turned slowly to meet Oliver's derisive smirk.

"The mighty Sebastian Vanderbilt, reduced to a pathetic spectator." Oliver's contempt dripped like venom. He'd always loathed Sebastian, and now made no effort to hide it. When it came to protecting his sister, Oliver recognized no moral boundaries.

Anyone who hurt Eleanor was lower than scum in his eyes.

"I know I shouldn't be here," Sebastian rasped, eyes bloodshot. "But can't I at least look at her from afar?"

He hadn't slept properly in days, surviving on stolen glimpses until dawn.

It felt like his heart was being slowly shredded.

Oliver narrowed his eyes, joining Sebastian in observing Eleanor. "Let's be clear—I fucking hate you."

Sebastian's lips pressed into a thin line.

"But I also can't stand Isabella. My sister deserves better than either of you." Oliver spat on the ground. "First Alexander acts all high and mighty about standards, now he's practically shoving them together. If he tries to arrange their marriage, I'll crash the damn wedding myself!"

Sebastian blinked.

He'd heard of jealous exes disrupting weddings, but angry brothers?

Then again, Oliver had always been recklessly unpredictable.

"Listen up, asshole." Oliver jabbed a finger at Sebastian's chest. "Hypothetically—if Isabella actually marries my sister someday, would you have the balls to object?"

The question felt like a knife twisting in Sebastian's ribs.

Isabella and Eleanor—married.

The mere thought made him physically ill.

"Forget it!" Oliver snarled. "Neither of you deserve her! You're both worthless!"

"I just want Eleanor to be happy," Sebastian whispered hoarsely. "I'd sacrifice anything for that."

"Then help me break them up," Oliver demanded through gritted teeth. "I can't watch this charade anymore!"

Sebastian stared at him, stunned.

"Don't flatter yourself—this isn't for you." Oliver's jaw clenched. "Eleanor can't see what I see. There's something off about Isabella. I won't let my sister be manipulated."

Sebastian gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Then it's settled. We sabotage this... whatever it is." Oliver cracked his knuckles ominously.

"And if she truly wants to be with Isabella?" The question tore Sebastian apart as he asked it.

"Based on fifteen years of knowing Eleanor? Not happening." Oliver's laugh was ice-cold. "I know what she looks like when she's in love—better than anyone."

Sebastian swallowed hard, cheeks burning with shame.

He knew exactly what Oliver meant.

Once, Eleanor had loved him with her entire being—fervent, unconditional devotion.

He'd held paradise in his hands and squandered it through arrogance and blindness.

"That's why we act now," Oliver continued. "Before whatever this is takes root. Nip it in the bud."

His eyes darkened. "If we wait, even stone erodes under constant dripping. You in or not? Not that you have a choice—our motto's always been 'if I can't have her, no one can.'"

With that, Oliver turned to leave.

"Are you helping me because of our boarding school days?" Sebastian suddenly asked.

Oliver paused, eyebrow arched. "Took you long enough to remember. But no—that's ancient history. See you around, Vanderbilt."

During the return journey, Alexander insisted Eleanor ride with Isabella—a blatant matchmaking ploy.

Meanwhile, the Sinclair siblings crammed into one car, buzzing with theories.

"Is Father actually playing cupid?" Arabella gasped. "God, if this works out, Isabella's hitting the jackpot. Marrying into the Sinclair empire? She'd be living every gold-digger's dream!"

"The Lockwoods are old money," Margaret pointed out dryly. "Hardly gold-digging material."

"But Eleanor's always been hung up on Sebastian," Seraphina interjected sharply. "Has she really moved on so quickly?"

"Best way to get over someone is to get under someone new," Arabella quipped.

"What's bizarre," Margaret mused, "is Father's sudden change of heart. He always said the Lockwood boys were unremarkable. Why the about-face?"

Margaret's delicate features tightened.

The Lockwood heir was proving more cunning than anticipated.

In the other car, Eleanor stared resolutely out the window, making no effort to converse.

Isabella sat quietly beside her, drinking in her presence like a man starved.

Just being near her was intoxicating.

"You've barely left my side this whole week," Eleanor finally said, still not looking at him. "You must be exhausted. Rest at home—no need to visit for a while."

"Don't you want to see me?" Isabella's voice cracked.

Eleanor turned then, her gaze cool. "I don't know what you told Alexander, but if you value our friendship, let this end here. There's no future with Sebastian—or with you."

"Isabella, I swear I didn't—"

"Fifteen years have passed," Eleanor cut him off. "I'm not your childhood savior anymore. Cherish the bond we have—don't destroy it. If you persist, I'll have no choice but to cut ties."

Each word landed like a dagger, leaving Isabella's heart in tatters.

His pale hands clenched unseen.

'You're breaking my heart, Eleanor,' he thought bitterly. 'How can you be so cruel?'

The tense silence shattered when Eleanor's phone buzzed.

Seeing Adrian's name, her pulse spiked. She answered in hushed tones.

"Ms. Eleanor! Can you meet tonight? It's urgent!" Adrian's whisper was frantic. "I'm at the Vanderbilt estate—can't talk freely here!"

Eleanor checked her watch. "I'll come to you."

Isabella watched intently, though her words were too soft to decipher.

"No! Too dangerous!" Adrian insisted, voice trembling. "I'll come to you—just name the place!"

"Texting you now." Eleanor hung up quickly.

Troubled, she massaged her temples. "Change of plans—drop me at The Chateau Royale instead."

Isabella's expression crumpled. No matter how hard he tried, an invisible barrier kept Eleanor forever out of reach.