Chapter 471

The moment Isabella Sinclair requested space, Alexander Kingsley had become a man possessed.

His phone calls were relentless, his desperation palpable. Night after night, he stood guard outside her penthouse at Windsor Estates, each visit leaving him more hollow than the last.

The lovesick fool looked no better than when Nathaniel Prescott had chased after Evelyn Prescott with reckless abandon.

Isabella refused to step outside, locking herself away, skipping meals, wasting away to shadows. Her pillows were stained with silent tears.

When the ache for Alexander grew unbearable, she’d creep to the hallway window, parting the curtains just enough to steal a glance.

And every time, he was there.

A solitary figure braced against the wind, his piercing gaze fixed on her window like a beacon in the dark.

Even the thought of him sent knives twisting through her chest, carving wounds that never healed.

She had failed him. The guilt was suffocating. But how could she have both?

In the end, she was selfish too.

Torn between Alexander and her family, she chose the latter.

Isabella stared blankly at her phone when Harrison Blake leaned in, curiosity piqued.

His expression darkened at the screen, but he forced a dry chuckle, retreating instead of pressing. "Ms. Isabella, if you have urgent matters, I’ll leave you to them."

"No. It’s nothing." She steeled herself and ended the call.

Fearing another ring, she powered off her phone entirely.

Enough was enough.

Better to sever it cleanly now than let hope fester, only to crush it later. A clean break was kinder than slow decay.

Harrison’s eyes gleamed as he stammered, "Then... may I sit here?"

Isabella gave a slight nod, shifting to keep distance between them.

Harrison lurched forward, his uneven gait betraying him as he stumbled—

"Careful!" Her instincts kicked in before she could think.

She would’ve helped a stranger cross the street. How could she ignore a man about to fall at her feet?

Harrison seized the moment, gripping her arm, his pulse racing at the contact.

"Thank you, Ms. Isabella," he breathed, gratitude dripping from every word.

Nearby, Richard Langley and Sebastian Wright were deep in conversation.

"Richard, look over there." Sebastian nudged him, nodding toward Isabella and Harrison.

Richard’s brow furrowed slightly at the sight of them chatting.

"Seems your little protégée is getting cozy with Harrison."

Sebastian, ever the opportunist, smirked. "Nathaniel was obsessed with Evelyn—everyone knew it. With our families merging now, if Isabella married Nathaniel, it’d be awkward for everyone. Harrison’s mentioned his interest in her more than once. He rarely admits to liking anyone, but with her? He’s serious. Forced matches never end well, Richard. Maybe we should consider someone... more suitable."

He tried to plead his case, but Richard’s disinterest was palpable. Sebastian sighed in frustration.

Before his injury, Harrison had been a silver-tongued charmer. Now, he scraped together every ounce of wit to entertain Isabella.

Yet she remained unmoved, his jokes falling flat against her walls.

To Harrison, she was just the daughter of a mistress. If not for his disability, why would he settle for her?

What gave her the right to act so superior?

Margaret Laurent watched their stilted exchange, frustration simmering.

Time to play dirty.

Harrison’s secretary rushed over but was intercepted by Margaret’s sharp call. "Where’s the fire? Can’t you see my brother’s busy?"

"Miss Margaret, there’s... a situation." The secretary hesitated.

"Spit it out. Don’t treat me like an outsider."

"It’s the former secretary of the Vanderbilt heiress. He’s outside, waiting."

A sly glint flashed in Margaret’s eyes. "Daniel?"

"Yes! Isn’t he Mr. Nathaniel’s rival? His timing seems deliberate—meant to disrupt Mr. Nathaniel’s plans. I thought I should warn him. Right now, that man can’t enter without an invitation, but if Ms. Evelyn finds out..."

The secretary didn’t need to finish.

"Good thinking. I’ll handle this. Don’t disturb my brother yet." Margaret’s lips curled.

"Of course, Miss Margaret."

Once alone, Margaret’s fingers flew over her phone:

[Harrison, your rival’s at the door. I’m shooing him away. How will you thank me?]

[Dear sister, isn’t that ruby necklace you’ve been eyeing yours already?]

[You’re the best!]

[But since he came all this way, the Laurent family’s hospitality demands we... send him off properly.]

Margaret smirked, fingers curling into a cruel "okay."

The mansion blazed with light, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside.

Daniel Carter’s fingers trembled as the call disconnected. The festive glow around him felt like a thousand needles piercing his chest.

Without an invitation, he was left in the cold—a ghost at the gates.

He could’ve called Evelyn, begged for entry. But pride choked the words in his throat.

Daniel’s head bowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed bitter shame.

Was he truly so out of his league?

The woman he loved was inside, and his heart screamed for her.

Yet the divide between them was a fortress, denying him even a glimpse.

"Well, well. Look who’s here."

A razor-sharp voice sliced through the air. Daniel’s head snapped up.

Margaret descended the steps, arms crossed, flanked by bodyguards. She looked down at him like he was dirt.

"Thought I recognized someone. Isn’t this Ms. Evelyn’s little errand boy? My future sister-in-law’s ex?"

Daniel’s fists clenched. "What did you say?"

"Oh, you really don’t know?" Margaret tsked, snatching her secretary’s phone. "Show him. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into him."

The screen flashed—a photo of Isabella supporting Harrison, their bodies close, intimate.

The world shattered.

"No. That’s not possible."

"Oh, but it is." Margaret’s grin was venomous. "The Laurents and Mr. Richard’s family have united. Isabella is to be Harrison’s bride. See how happy they are? Love needs family blessing, or it’s just mutual torture."

"You’re lying!" Daniel’s entire body shook, panic bleeding into his voice.

"Don’t believe me? Ask her yourself." Margaret’s eyes gleamed. "Oh, but she doesn’t want to see you. If she did, would you be out here freezing while she’s warm inside?"

Each word was a bullet to his chest.

"I don’t believe you! Isabella would never—"

He lunged for the gates, mind blank with desperation.

No questions. No doubts.

He refused to believe the woman who loved him would agree to this. He had to take her away!

"Stop him." Margaret’s command was ice.

The bodyguards moved as one.

Daniel fought like a man possessed, his training evident in every strike. Normally, he’d overpower them easily—but his injuries slowed him.

A baton slammed into his wounded shoulder. Pain exploded, sweat drenching his suit.

A kick to his gut sent him staggering, but he stood firm, teeth gritted.

Margaret sneered. "Who do you think you are? The Kingsleys are nothing—just Vanderbilt’s former lapdogs. You really thought you could compete with my brother? Why would a woman like her settle for scraps? Wake up. Crawl back to Evelyn where you belong."

Daniel’s fury burned, but his body betrayed him—his arm barely lifted.

The bodyguards stood unmoved.

Humming, Margaret turned, whispering to her secretary:

"He’s hurt. Finish him."