Chapter 450

The air in the VIP lounge was thick with tension.

Across the racetrack, in the dimly lit confines of rest lounge No. 2, Isabella Sinclair’s pulse raced. The moment the race ended, she couldn’t contain herself. She had to see him.

"Alexander! Alexander, I'm here!"

Ever since she’d met Alexander Kingsley, something inside her had awakened. She wasn’t the same woman who had spent decades playing the perfect wife, suffocating under the weight of her husband’s expectations.

No more.

She had lived a lie for too long, pretending to adore a man she despised. But Alexander—he was different. He was the storm that had drenched her parched soul, and she never wanted to be dry again.

Her fingers trembled as she knocked on the door. When no answer came, impatience won. She pushed inside, locking the door behind her.

Empty.

Her heart dropped. "Where is he?"

Then she saw it—a syringe on the table. Her lifeline. Her salvation.

Just as she reached for it, her phone rang.

Alexander.

"Alexander! Where are you?" Her voice was raw with need.

"Mrs. Sinclair, the track is swarming with eyes. If we were seen together, no amount of charm could save us." His voice was smooth, laced with concern. "I can handle the rumors, but your reputation? That’s priceless."

Tears welled in her eyes. "You’re the only one who truly cares about me. You’re all I have."

"I know you’ve been struggling without your medicine. I left it for you. Consider it a gift."

The call ended, but Isabella didn’t hesitate. She uncapped the needle, her hands shaking, and plunged it into her vein.

A gasp escaped her lips as euphoria flooded her senses. She slid to the floor, a mess of tears and ragged breaths. In that moment, she wasn’t a society queen—she was a slave to the high.

When the haze lifted, she staggered to the mirror. The drug had worked its magic—her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled. But something felt... off.

A sharp knock shattered the silence.

Her heart lurched.

"Mrs. Sinclair, are you in there?"

Dennis.

Her stomach twisted. Thank God Alexander hadn’t been here. How would she have explained this?

She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress, and opened the door with practiced poise.

"What is it?"

"Mr. Sinclair has been looking for you. Everyone’s waiting." His gaze flicked past her, scanning the room.

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe with a mocking smirk. "Looking for something? Go ahead, search. Maybe you’ll find the lover you seem so convinced I’m hiding."

Dennis merely bowed his head. "My apologies, Mrs. Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair insists on your presence."

The grandstand buzzed with tension.

Behind Barry’s imposing figure, Edith stood frozen, her face ashen. Duke had always been untouchable—how had Thaddeus caught him so easily?

The Fairhaven family was in shock.

"Duke? How could it be you?" Barry’s voice cracked.

Duke, his protege, his almost-son, now crumpled on the ground after Gordon’s vicious kick.

"Mr. Fairhaven, I—"

Another kick silenced him.

Evadne tensed. She’d never seen Gordon like this—usually the calm, composed shadow behind Thaddeus, now a storm of fury.

Then Thaddeus’s hand settled on her waist, his voice a whisper. "Did that scare you?"

"Please," she scoffed, though her skin tingled where he touched her. "I’m not the one getting kicked."

His lips curved. "Gordon’s never lost control like this. Not until someone hurt you."

Her breath hitched.

Gordon wasn’t done. He hauled Duke up, his voice deadly. "You filthy rat. You laid hands on Mrs. Abernathy? You have a death wish?"

Gary lunged forward. "How dare a secretary strike a Fairhaven?"

The Fairhaven men surged, but Thaddeus’s voice cut through like ice. "Touch him, and you answer to me."

Silence.

Barry’s face darkened. "Thaddeus, you accuse my man without proof?"

Thaddeus’s smile was razor-sharp. "Proof? Oh, I have plenty."

Duke’s confidence wavered.

Elspeth, finally arriving, shot Thaddeus a venomous look. "This is absurd! The Fairhavens are our allies!"

Jareth snorted. "Allies don’t try to kill my sister-in-law."

Thaddeus’s gaze locked onto Evadne, his voice raw. "I don’t care about alliances. I don’t care about reputation. The only thing that matters—"

His fingers brushed her cheek.

"—is her."

Her heart stuttered.

Jareth muttered under his breath, "Damn, he’s good."

Mari sighed against his chest. "He really loves her."

Jareth kissed her temple. "I’d burn the world for you too, sweetheart."

Mari’s lips pressed together. She wanted to be more than just protected. She wanted to be strong—for him.

Edith’s nails dug into her palms. Evadne had everything. And she had nothing.

Barry’s voice was steel. "Where’s your proof, Thaddeus?"

Thaddeus smirked. "Oh, Duke. You really thought you’d get away with it?"

Duke’s bravado cracked. "I didn’t touch her horse!"

Gordon kicked him again. "Liar."

The Fairhavens bristled, but no one moved.

Thaddeus’s eyes were glacial. "You messed with the wrong woman."

Evadne’s pulse raced.

This wasn’t over. Not even close.