Chapter 1240
No.1
A simple white cap covered her hair, pulled into a limp ponytail.
Her uniform was drab and stained, marking her lowest status.
Yet her face remained hauntingly delicate.
It was petite, paler than McKenzie remembered.
Those wide, watery eyes still held that pathetic, pleading look.
One glance still stirred a foolish desire to protect her.
"Tch. Still playing the helpless victim," McKenzie's crimson lips twisted into a cold smirk.
She pushed the car door open and stepped out.
Miranda scurried ahead, clearing a path through the kitchen staff.
No.2
Annabel remained focused on her task, scrubbing the prawns on her knees.
She didn't notice the other kitchen staff silently dispersing.
The service door swung open.
A long shadow fell across her work station.
Annabel's eyes traveled up from a pair of elegant beige heels.
Her hands froze mid-scrub.
Her breath hitched.
"Ms. McKenzie…"
"You remember me?" McKenzie placed her hands on her hips, looking down her nose with sharp disdain.
No.3
"If you remember our agreement, why are you back?"
"I… I'm so sorry. Truly, I am." Annabel dropped the brush, scrambling to her feet.
She bowed repeatedly, her voice trembling.
"I took the money. I went abroad for my grandmother's treatment, just as you arranged. But five years ago… she passed."
"Her final wish was to be laid to rest here in Westchester. She didn't want to remain in foreign soil."
"I only returned with her ashes to grant her peace. I want nothing else. I swear it."
"Five years?" McKenzie's glare was icy, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Did it take five whole years to bury an old woman? Answer me."
Isabella lowered her head, her posture as deferential as a servant. "I had no other option..."
No.4
"After returning, I discovered my parents—who'd ignored me for years—had also come back. They claimed they were forced to neglect me back then. Having been an orphan for so long, all I desired was to reunite with them and live a quiet life..."
"So you remained in Westchester for five years and bore Nathaniel's child?!" Vivienne's voice sharpened, her eyes blazing with fury. "After what you've done, I could make you vanish without a trace!"
At Rosewood Manor.
Isabella lounged lazily on the sofa, her tone casual but firm. "Ensure Theodore is well cared for. I want him comfortable and content."
"Don't worry—Senior Montgomery has improved greatly since learning the truth. But prepare yourself; Eleanor and Richard are likely to visit soon," Adrian warned.
Isabella's expression remained cool and detached. Exposing Victoria's deceit wasn't about rejoining the Montgomery family. It was about ensuring Victoria faced consequences for her actions. Their apologies and regrets meant nothing to her.
Across the sofa, little Oliver lay on his stomach, sketching intently with colored pencils. After Isabella ended the call, he scrambled over and proudly presented his drawing. "Mommy, look! I made this for you."
Isabella took the paper. A tender scene unfolded under soft window light—herself reclining gracefully on the sofa. The artwork was remarkably detailed and skilled, far beyond his years.
Yet...
No.5
Oliver had drawn a large white circle over her abdomen, with a peaceful baby girl sleeping inside. Isabella's lips twitched slightly. Was he truly this desperate for a sister?
Ever since that night, Oliver had constantly hinted at a sibling—through drawings, preparing toys, even excitedly building a small crib. When he discovered the truth, he might be... Her gaze drifted to Nathaniel, seated nearby.
Nathaniel sat in a single armchair, documents resting on his lap. His posture was impeccably elegant, exuding an aura of sharp intelligence and refined coldness. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine.
Even after living together, her heart still raced uncontrollably whenever she watched him. The wound on his arm stood out starkly against his flawless skin.
She remembered how he'd shielded her that day, and all the moments they'd shared since. A strange thought surfaced: Perhaps having his child wouldn't be so terrible.
She knew how sincerely Nathaniel treated her. He seemed genuinely committed to their relationship.
Suddenly, the doorbell chimed.
Isabella frowned. Who would visit Rosewood Manor at this hour? Could it be Eleanor arriving so soon?
She rose and opened the door. A woman stood there, barely five feet tall. Her delicate, palm-sized face wore a pitiable expression, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She wore a faded, cheap white dress that made her appear fragile and meek.
No.6
She resembled a pure white lily—so delicate and gentle she might be swept away by the wind. This was the genuine article, unlike Victoria's artificial performance.
Upon seeing Isabella, the woman stammered nervously, "Hello... Is... Is Mr. Blackwood here?"
Isabella's brow furrowed. She was here for Nathaniel?
Unease flickering within her, Isabella turned toward Nathaniel. "Nathaniel, you have a visitor."
Nathaniel glanced up from his documents. His eyes darkened instantly upon seeing the figure at the door. The papers in his hands trembled slightly.
The atmosphere in the manor grew thick with tension.
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Sophia's eyes when she saw Nathaniel. She quickly averted her gaze, her voice barely a whisper. "Mr. Blackwood... I... Could we speak privately?" Her tone was meek, almost fragile.
Nathaniel hesitated for a brief moment. He set the document down. He walked toward the door. As he passed Isabella, he stopped. His voice was a low, serious rumble. "I will handle this. Do not forget my words to you."
Isabella frowned. His words? He had said so many things to her...
No.7
Nathaniel turned to Sophia. "Follow me."
He led the way toward the koi pond in the garden. Sophia offered Isabella a small, polite nod before trailing after him.
Isabella watched them go, a strange unease coiling in her stomach. She could sense it. Nathaniel's interaction with this woman was different. The way he looked at her was unusual. His entire demeanor was off.
There was history there. A story she did not know.
The image of his broad back leading the way, with her small, delicate figure following behind, was striking. It looked like a scene of a protector and his charge. It felt intimate.
Isabella's hand tightened on the doorframe.
By the koi pond, they were alone. Nathaniel stood with one hand in his pocket, his posture rigid and imposing. He said nothing, simply waiting. Sophia stood behind him, wringing her hands nervously. Finally, she found her voice. "Mr. Blackwood... I wouldn't have come if I had any other choice. I know I wronged you all those years ago..."
Back then, they were not officially together. Yet he was always there. Protecting her. Helping her. His world was sterile then. Just work, study, business deals. She had promised to show him a different life. The simple joys. The vibrant chaos of street food stalls. The beauty in small, everyday moments. But the very next day after making that promise, she took the money. She left Westchester without a word.
Sophia hung her head in shame. "I know five million was too much for someone like me. Taking it was degrading. But my grandmother... she was sick. Kidney failure. The treatment costs were astronomical. I had no other options. And I knew I was never good enough for you. Being with me would have only brought you trouble. So I..."