Chapter 1266
No.1
Seeing her approach, his gaze darkened with anticipation. A visible swallow moved his throat. She was already beside him, her hand reaching toward his waist.
Oliver—in the front passenger seat—instantly covered his eyes. Sebastian flipped the rearview mirror down, avoiding any distraction.
Isabella’s fingers searched along Nathaniel’s waistline. Feeling her soft touch, he smirked. "Miss Montgomery, if you're interested, my abs and chest offer a better experience."
She rolled her eyes. "In your dreams." She tugged the seatbelt from behind him and clicked it into place. "I’m ensuring you don’t crush another one of my dresses. They’re not disposable." She then secured her own belt tightly and sat rigidly upright, putting maximum distance between them.
So it was just about the seatbelt. Sebastian readjusted the mirror with a disappointed sigh. Oliver lowered his hands, his hopeful expression fading.
‘Why is Mommy so resistant? How will they ever reconnect at this rate?’ The boy’s large, worried eyes darted as he schemed.
In the back, a tense silence stretched like a chasm. Oliver grew anxious. This couldn’t be it. Wasting a perfect opportunity was unthinkable. As the car approached the city limits, an idea struck him.
He suddenly clutched his stomach, letting out a pained groan.
Sebastian immediately pulled over. "Oliver? What's wrong?"
No.2
"My stomach… it hurts so much," Oliver whimpered, his voice weak. "I didn’t eat breakfast…"
Sebastian’s brow furrowed. "That’s serious. It could be the start of a gastric issue. You need food now."
"R-Really?" Oliver feigned shock, then turned a guilt-ridden face toward Isabella. "Mommy… can you please take me to get something to eat?" His whimpers intensified. "Waa… it really hurts…"
"You look pale. Your father and uncle should take you. I'll grab a cab," Isabella said, already moving to unbuckle her belt.
"No!" Oliver’s cry was too forceful for a sick child. He quickly softened his tone, breathing shallowly. "Waa… Mommy… I don’t want to go with them. They always pick spicy food! It’s terrible! I just want something gentle for my stomach, but they never listen!"
He dropped his head, fake tears welling in his eyes. "They say eating spice makes me grow up faster. I always obey because I don’t have a mommy. Nobody loves me. I have to be good. I have to be a good boy… But now…" His crying escalated. "My stomach is on fire! Spicy food will kill me! Waaa… I don’t want to die! Waaa…!"
Nathaniel and Sebastian were utterly speechless. Since when did they force-feed him chili?
The act worked perfectly on Isabella. Her heart melted at his desperate sobs. She quickly opened her door and rushed to gather him into her arms.
Nathaniel and Sebastian trailed closely behind Isabella and Oliver.
No.3
They stepped into the small eatery. Isabella ordered a warm pot of congee with several side dishes. After the server left, she fixed her gaze on the two men across from her. "Do neither of you have any common sense? He's just a little boy. Spicy food is completely inappropriate. That tall tale about spicy food making you grow taller is absolute nonsense. How could educated men like you believe such foolishness?"
Sebastian opened his mouth to protest.
Nathaniel kicked him sharply under the table. He adopted a serious, attentive expression. "You're absolutely right, Miss Montgomery. I'll be more mindful. Are there any other points I should remember?"
"Mommy," Oliver interjected, seizing the opportunity. "Daddy enrolls me in endless tutoring. My classes run until midnight every single night." He continued, his voice small. "And he leaves me alone at home most of the time. We only share one meal a week. He takes me out to play just once a month." A sad sigh escaped him. "All my friends have parents who play with them. I'm always by myself."
Her heart ached for the child. Isabella's expression hardened as she turned to Nathaniel. "Mr. Blackwood, this is entirely unacceptable. He carries your blood. You are his father. That comes with responsibility. He's a young child. Why burden him with so many classes? He isn't a machine. He deserves a joyful childhood. Furthermore..." She continued, listing his parental failings without pause.
Nathaniel didn't interrupt. He listened quietly, periodically refilling her water glass. When she finally finished, he pulled out his phone. "Miss Montgomery, would you provide me with your number? This way, you can continue to advise me on parenting matters in the future."
"Yes, Mommy," Oliver chimed in, nodding vigorously. "You have to remind Daddy every day. Otherwise, he'll forget everything you said."
Without a second thought, Isabella took out her own phone and added him on WhatsApp. Sebastian watched, utterly bewildered. How had this happened so quickly? They were exchanging contacts now?
Suddenly, Isabella's phone screen lit up. The caller ID showed 'Julian'. As her agent and friend, he only called for urgent matters.
No.4
She excused herself quickly and stepped outside to answer.
A flicker of jealousy tightened Nathaniel's chest. Julian. A man's name.
Sebastian leaned in, muttering, "Don't worry. I'll find out who that is."
Outside, Isabella listened to Julian's report.
"Two things, Bella. Maxwell found the guest list from The Ritz-Carlton five years ago…"
The name hit her like a physical blow. The Ritz-Carlton. Her body went rigid. Instinctively, she glanced back into the restaurant.
Nathaniel was carefully selecting food for Oliver. He noticed her look and gave a slight nod. A strange, unexplainable feeling washed over her. She felt a powerful urge to keep the incident from five years ago hidden from him.
"We'll discuss this when I return," she said swiftly, ending the call.
Nathaniel studied her tense posture. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
No.5
"It's nothing important," Isabella replied, her brow furrowed. Why was she so worried about Nathaniel discovering the truth about that night? The reaction was puzzling, even to her.
She collected herself, her tone becoming brisk. "Something has come up. I need to leave. The repair shop is delivering my motorcycle. Take good care of him. No more spicy food."
"Mommy!" Oliver scrambled from his seat, clinging to her leg. He didn't want her to go.
She gently ruffled his hair. "Be good, sweetheart. I've added your father on WhatsApp. I'll be watching him closely to make sure he treats you properly."
"Okay! But you have to promise to video call me," Oliver beamed, his large, pleading eyes making him look like a hopeful kitten.
Isabella nodded. As she turned to leave, Nathaniel stood and followed her. "I'll walk you out."
Isabella tried to stop him, but Nathaniel was already heading out the door.
Fine.
Her motorcycle was conveniently parked right outside the restaurant. The technician handed her the keys.
No.6
She swung her leg over the bike in one fluid motion.
“Wait.” Nathaniel stepped in front of her, his hand closing around her wrist.
She instinctively tried to pull away, but he was already holding a small bottle of ointment. He gently applied it to her cut with his fingertip.
He was… tending to her injury?
His grip was firm yet careful as he smoothed the cream over her skin. He treated the wound with the reverence of a master artisan handling a priceless artifact. Then, he produced a narrow roll of gauze and wrapped it neatly around her forearm.
“Keep it dry for the next seventy-two hours. Try to minimize use of this hand,” he instructed, his voice a low, resonant murmur that vibrated through her.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm she hadn't felt in years. No one had shown her such deliberate, gentle care since before her world fell apart. The memory of that betrayal five years ago sliced through the moment, cold and sharp. She wrenched her arm back. “Thank you. Take care of Christopher.”
The engine roared to life beneath her. The motorcycle shot forward, a streak of crimson and steel. Her dark hair whipped wildly in the wind, the red dress a defiant banner against the fading light. She was a vision of untamed, breathtaking resolve, seemingly impervious to everything in her wake. Nathaniel’s expression darkened as he watched her disappear.
The tires of her bike crunched on the gravel driveway of Rosewood Manor. Julian Hawthorne was waiting inside, perched on the edge of a sofa, a manila folder resting on his knee.
No.7
“The list?” she asked, striding into the room.
“Maxwell is running deep background checks on every name. Results should be in shortly. However,” he said, his tone shifting, “there’s a more pressing issue.” He placed the folder on the coffee table. “Someone is digging. They’re investigating your five years in Africa. Due to an oversight on my part, this photograph was discovered.”
He slid a single photo across the polished surface.
In it, Isabella stood radiant in a crimson bandeau gown. Beside her was a man of regal bearing, his attire dripping with opulence, every finger adorned with massive, glittering diamond rings. He was presenting her with a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg.
Her brow furrowed. “This was supposed to be destroyed. If they connect the dots…”
“All other copies were. It seems Harrison Winslow kept one for himself. Sophia Kensington now has it,” Julian stated, closing the folder. “We can silence her. Or buy off every major media outlet to contain it.”
“No. It’s too late for that.” Isabella walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of water. She swirled the liquid, watching it spin. “If she’s found it, then let her play her hand. I just hope she’s prepared for the consequences.” Her voice was deceptively light, laced with a chilling promise of retribution.
Julian’s frown deepened. “You want to expose her ourselves?”
“It’s insignificant.”