Chapter 4

Five days had passed since the incident. Alexander Kingsley summoned his secretary, Lawrence Bennett, after the morning briefing.

"Any updates on Isabella?"

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Manhattan skyline, Alexander's imposing figure cast a long shadow across the room. The tension was palpable.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Kingsley." Lawrence wiped his brow nervously. "She never returned to the hospital where she worked. I personally checked her supposed hometown in Boston, but the address was fabricated. No records exist of anyone with her surname."

"A fabricated identity?" Alexander spun around, his stormy eyes darkening.

"Yes, sir. The local registry office had no records of any Isabella Sinclair." Lawrence still referred to her as "Mrs. Kingsley" out of habit.

Alexander's mind reeled. What kind of woman had he married? Was she some kind of corporate spy?

"Did you investigate Daniel Carter? He was the one who took her away that night."

Lawrence hesitated. "If Mr. Carter wanted to conceal her identity... we'd have little chance of uncovering anything."

Alexander's pulse spiked. Fury burned in his gaze.

Daniel always seemed honorable. How could he be involved in this?

"Perhaps this isn't entirely bad news, sir? It's not like he stole your—"

A lethal glare from Alexander cut him off mid-sentence, leaving Lawrence coughing from the sudden pressure.

The memory of Daniel shielding Isabella that night flashed vividly—those protective eyes holding unspoken warnings.

Alexander's chest tightened. How had his plain, unremarkable wife attracted someone like Daniel Carter as her guardian?

He recalled her desperate plea to save their marriage:

"Alexander... can we not get divorced? Because... I love you!"

"Liar!" Alexander slammed his fist on the desk, radiating icy rage.

The more he dwelled on it, the angrier he grew—and the angrier he became, the more obsessed he got.

His phone vibrated across the polished mahogany.

Taking a steadying breath, Alexander saw Evelyn Prescott's name and answered.

"Evelyn. What is it?"

"Alexander, I'm in the Kingsley Group lobby." Her saccharine voice dripped through the receiver. "I baked your favorite cookies. Won't you come get me?"

Even Lawrence felt his skin prickle at the cloying tone.

"You're in the corporate lobby?" Alexander's brow furrowed.

"Yes, darling. Is that... a problem?" Her voice turned wounded. "Don't you want to see me?"

"No. Lawrence will escort you up."

Hanging up, Alexander's expression darkened further.

The divorce papers with Isabella hadn't been finalized. If Evelyn made a public appearance now, the media frenzy would be disastrous.

Not that he cared about scandal, but—

His phone buzzed again.

The caller ID made his pulse stutter.

"Grandfather."

"You insolent boy! Have my words become wind to you?" Reginald Kingsley's roar shook the speaker. "I warned you—no contact with the Prescott girl after marrying Isabella! Now you parade her through our headquarters? Have you no respect for your wife's dignity? Get your ass to my office immediately!"

The air in Reginald's pentoffice was thick with tension.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the patriarch sat fuming on the leather sofa, flanked by his assistant and William Kingsley.

Alexander stood rigidly at attention while Evelyn was barred from entering—Reginald declared "such women" weren't worthy to breathe the same air.

"Explain yourself! What is this dalliance with Prescott's daughter?" The cane thundered against marble.

"Father, please calm—" William began.

"The three years are up." Alexander's voice was gravel. "You promised—marry Isabella for three years, then the choice was mine. That time has passed."

Reginald paled as if struck.

In those three years, sweet Isabella had cared for him daily. A thousand sunrises had slipped by unnoticed—he'd forgotten the deadline entirely!

"My choice is to end this farce and be with the woman I love. You gave your word. Isabella already signed the papers. We'll finalize it this week."

"You divorced her already?" Reginald shot up, vision swimming, nearly collapsing.

Alexander moved to steady him but was violently shoved away.

"Father! They've only signed the agreement—not filed yet! Your blood pressure—" William intervened urgently.

"Why must you defy me? Why reject the only daughter-in-law I've ever approved?" Reginald's voice broke.

Alexander stood frozen. William looked helpless.

"I want Isabella back! Bring her to me! Without her, this family will crumble! She's the only wife I'll accept!"

"Alexander, call Isabella now! Your grandfather needs to see her!" William urged.

"It's pointless, Father. Even if I dragged her here, our marriage is over. There's no going back."

Alexander believed in clean breaks. Time would heal all wounds.

With a strangled cry, Reginald collapsed backward.

Pandemonium erupted as William and Alexander scrambled for the emergency line and medication.

Cornered, Alexander reluctantly dialed Isabella's number.

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

Not only had she vanished—she'd disconnected her phone?

"Damn it!" Alexander's fists clenched until his knuckles blanched.

Meanwhile, at The Grand Chateau Hotel...

Executives clustered anxiously awaiting their new general manager.

"A woman GM? Seriously?"

"Four male managers failed to turn this place around. What's some girl going to do? Magic?"

"Rumor says she's Chairman Sinclair's blood daughter—"

"With how many wives he's had? Probably some discarded bastard child. If she were important, why dump her here?"

Snickers rippled through the crowd.

"She's here! The new boss!"

A fleet of luxury vehicles glided to the entrance—Rolls-Royce in the lead, Maybachs following. The spectacle silenced all whispers.

The door opened, revealing first a pair of stiletto Louboutins. Power radiated from that single step.

Then emerged a vision—a statuesque beauty with curves that defied physics, flawless complexion, and eyes sharp enough to cut glass. Her very presence commanded submission.

"Good afternoon."

Her rosebud lips parted in a smile that stopped hearts. "I'm your new GM. But let's clarify one thing—" The smile turned razor-edged. "I'm no bastard child. Disappointed?"

The gossiping employees broke into cold sweats.

Minutes earlier, inside the limo...

Isabella Sinclair had hacked the hotel's security cameras with three keystrokes, watching their every move.