Chapter 1283

No.1

Colette's initial heartache melted into emotional tears of joy. Her collection aimed for ethereal, free-flowing red garments, hence the long sleeves and trouser legs. Yet in her creative process, she had overlooked incorporating true elegance and visual appeal.

Witnessing Isabella's modifications, the clothes achieved greater fluidity and otherworldly beauty within minutes. Overcome with emotion, Colette exclaimed, "It's flawless! Absolutely perfect! Isabella, you're nothing short of genius!"

Maintaining her composed demeanor, Isabella moved to the center of the set. "Let's begin," she stated calmly.

The photographer shook himself from his daze and began working. Unlike most models who needed constant direction, Isabella transitioned seamlessly between poses. She held each position for precisely the right duration—just long enough for perfect shots before shifting stances.

Isabella understood the garments better than their creator. She simulated walking, making the wide trousers flutter dramatically. She raised a hand to touch her hair, showcasing the lace-edged sleeves perfectly. She sat at an angle with slightly bent knees, revealing glimpses of her shapely legs.

Every pose was exquisitely crafted. Breathtakingly beautiful! All thirty-two outfits underwent Isabella's transformative vision, producing spectacular results through the lens. Colette felt tears of gratitude welling up. She knew this collection would break sales records.

The shoot continued until late afternoon. An assistant approached Isabella. "Please take a moment to rest. Once Miss Victoria finishes her session, we'll proceed with the joint photoshoot. That will conclude today's work."

Isabella settled in the lounge, sipping the provided refreshments. Gabriella Martinez glanced her way and couldn't suppress a mocking laugh. "Finished already? The photographer must've been dissatisfied with you. You should learn from your sister—she's performing exceptionally. Her photographer can't stop shooting, hence their extended session."

"Why would I need to learn inferior modeling techniques from her?" Isabella retorted humorlessly.

No.2

Gabriella froze, words catching in her throat. 'Damn that Isabella!' she seethed internally.

Just then, Victoria concluded her photoshoot. Gabriella rushed to her side, escorting her to the lounge. Junior assistants immediately attended to Victoria—one serving an iced drink, another massaging her shoulders. She embodied refined elegance like royalty.

Meanwhile, Isabella sat alone. Victoria seized the opportunity. "Sister, why didn't you bring assistants? Ronnie, go help massage my sister's shoulders. Don't worry about me."

"Yes, Miss," Ronnie responded dutifully, moving toward Isabella.

“Unnecessary,” Isabella dismissed. “They were just photographs. Did that truly exhaust you? I don’t require such theatrics.”

She rose and walked toward the water dispenser.

Victoria had been relaxed, but Isabella’s sharp tone soured her mood instantly. Humiliation warmed her cheeks, but she quickly composed herself. She was the top model, after all.

She seized the moment. “Oh, what a useless older sister I’ve been. All these years at home, Mother and Father never allowed me to do a thing. They feared I might strain myself. That’s why I’m so terribly spoiled.”

She smiled sweetly. “I truly admire you, dear sister. You’ve had the chance to be so… independent. Not like me. Even on a simple walk, someone always holds my umbrella. Whatever I wish to eat is prepared immediately. I’ve told them often they should be kinder to you. That you could be their real daughter! Can you guess what they said?” She left the question hanging, a deliberate tease.

No.3

Isabella didn’t even glance her way, entirely focused on her water.

Undeterred, Victoria pressed on. “Mother and Father said you were always distant, even as a child. They never cared for your temperament. Your personality. They said even if you were their biological child, they would still prefer me.” Her voice was honeyed, but the threat beneath was crystal clear. Unraveling the truth would gain Isabella nothing. No one would ever take her side.

Before Isabella could respond, Beatrice Holloway arrived.

“Ms. Kensington, I had a feeling I’d find you here. Mrs. Montgomery heard you were working so hard on your magazine shoot all afternoon. She was terribly concerned. She prepared ambrosia specially and asked me to bring it to you.”

“Mrs. Montgomery dotes on you, Victoria,” Gabriella Martinez commented offhandedly, shooting a meaningful look toward Isabella. She accepted the ornate container to pass to Victoria.

“Give it to my sister,” Victoria instructed graciously. “She’s never had ambrosia made by our mother personally.”

“A fair point. Our Victoria has had it more times than she can remember. You may have this one.” Gabriella carried the container toward Isabella, her every movement dripping with condescending charity.

Isabella shot them a mocking glance. “Ambrosia has little nutritional value. It’s overloaded with refined sugar. Excessive consumption can lead to diabetes. Hypertension. If you desire something sweet and refreshing, yet far healthier, I’d suggest fruit. High in vitamins. Full of natural sugars. Far superior for you.”

She finished her assessment and waved a dismissive hand at the offering, her expression one of pure distaste. Victoria and Gabriella’s faces darkened instantly. They had made the ambrosia sound like poison!

No.4

Fury choked them, but they were surrounded by witnesses.

Gabriella forced her words through clenched teeth. “Isabella, don’t call the grapes sour just because they are out of your reach. Victoria was being generous. How can you be so venomous?”

“Ms. Montgomery isn’t being venomous. She is correct.” The Gucci manager, who had been observing quietly, stepped forward kindly. “In our country, few eat ambrosia regularly. The preservatives in many ingredients are harmful in large quantities. The sugar content is exceptionally high. A natural beauty like yourself should avoid heavily processed foods. Especially sugar-laden desserts like this.”

Victoria’s complexion turned stormy. Her nails dug sharply into her palms. She had never felt so publicly humiliated. Why did disaster always follow Isabella? She longed to wipe that smug look right off her face.

Just then, another figure entered. “Ms. Kensington, our chairman has prepared a bowl of clam chowder for you. He hopes you will enjoy it.”

Isabella’s mood lifted visibly. Clam chowder?

“Clams are a type of shellfish,” Victoria interjected, her voice sugary sweet. “High in protein. Very low in carbohydrates and fat. Exceptional nutrient density. Full of beneficial vitamins and minerals. Iron. Vitamin B-12. Omega-3.” She arched a perfectly sculpted brow, a glint of pure mischief in her eyes. “You don’t have an issue with clam chowder, do you, dear sister?”

Isabella’s gaze drifted toward the assistant waiting by the entrance before she answered Victoria. “There’s nothing wrong with clam chowder. But… this one isn’t for you.” She gave Victoria a dismissive glance and turned to the assistant. “Since you’re here, why are you just standing there?”

The assistant immediately stepped forward and placed the chowder in front of Isabella. “Ms. Montgomery, this is for you,” he said respectfully. “Mr. Blackwood spent three hours by the stove preparing this personally for you.”

No.5

Victoria froze. The chowder wasn’t for her—it was for Isabella! How could a newcomer like Isabella have a chairman cooking for her? It was infuriating. Absolutely maddening!

Whispers and mocking glances shot toward Victoria while others looked at Isabella with clear admiration.

Isabella accepted the bowl and took an elegant spoonful.

The moment it touched her tongue, her taste buds were awakened by the fresh, perfectly balanced flavor. It was rich but not heavy, utterly delicious. She couldn’t believe Nathaniel—that powerful, commanding man—could cook like this.

Watching Isabella savor the dish, Victoria burned with envy. Each spoonful felt like a slap. She forced her expression to remain neutral. “Isabella, dear, you accepted food from a stranger without even knowing who he is?” she said, layering her tone with sisterly concern. “You should know men always have hidden motives.”

“Accepting his food means accepting his advances. Once you do, he’ll never leave you alone. If you were hungry, you could’ve asked Gabriella or Penelope. They can get you anything you want. Why take food from a stranger?” Victoria’s voice was dripping with false worry.

Isabella smirked coldly. “Oh really? They can get me anything? In that case, can you have them get me ice cream from La Dolce?”

Victoria’s concerned mask slipped instantly. La Dolce was the most famous dessert shop in Westchester. The lines stretched for hours. Hundreds waited daily just for one scoop.

When Victoria didn’t respond, Isabella raised a brow. “Cat got your tongue? You sounded so convincing earlier. Unless… you were just putting on a show?”

No.6

Victoria’s face flushed deep purple under the stares of everyone around. She struggled to keep her composure. “Of course not! If that’s what you want, you’ll have it. Penelope, what are you waiting for? Go get it now.”

“Yes, Miss.” Penelope, who had been massaging Victoria’s shoulders, pressed her lips together and hurried out.

‘This heat is unbearable. They’re trying to kill me making me stand in line for hours. That cunning Isabella knows how to make life difficult,’ Penelope fumed silently.

•••

After Penelope left, Victoria turned back to business. “Isabella, since you’ve accepted the chowder, shouldn’t you at least find out who this chairman is? You should thank him properly. It’s basic manners.” This mysterious chairman had helped Isabella twice now. She needed to uncover his identity!

Isabella’s lips curved into a captivating smile. “You would need to thank him. But I don’t.” Her eyes shifted to the assistant. “After all, he’s Harrison Winslow’s assistant. Since Harrison works under me, I don’t need to thank the assistant of my subordinate.”

Her tone was cool and arrogant.

Isabella was lying, but it was for Nathaniel’s protection. If Victoria found out it was him, she would latch onto him and never let go.

Victoria’s gaze turned icy. She stared at the assistant in disbelief. “You’re Harrison Winslow’s assistant?”

No.7

Prince Harrison Winslow personally preparing clam chowder for Isabella Montgomery? Impossible! Dominic Sterling, Nathaniel Blackwood's assistant, froze in disbelief. He met Isabella's icy stare, a silent warning that sent chills down his spine. Nathaniel's orders echoed in his mind: 'Comply with her every request.'

He straightened his posture. "Yes, my chairman is indeed Prince Harrison Winslow."

Victoria Kensington went rigid. She had envisioned seducing this mysterious chairman, twisting him to her will. Instead, Isabella had humiliated her publicly once more. Heat flooded Victoria's cheeks, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Isadora," she stammered, her voice tight, "assist me to the changing room. The final shot must be ready."

"Absolutely! Your dedication to work is unparalleled, Victoria. Unlike others who prioritize...indulgence," Isadora Vasquez retorted, shooting a venomous glare toward Isabella before guiding Victoria away.

Isabella simply rolled her eyes, dismissing them. She handed the container back to Dominic. "Inform him his deliveries are no longer required. He should focus his attention where it truly belongs." She had accepted Nathaniel's gestures twice now, yet the thought of him lavishing effort on her while neglecting Christopher soured her impression. Since returning, her focus was business, not romance.

Dominic deemed silence the wisest course. He gave a curt nod and departed.

Whispers erupted among the crew. What did Isabella's words imply? It sounded as though Prince Harrison had developed feelings for her, and she was nobly reminding him to remain devoted to his wife, Princess Arabella. How admirably principled.

Isabella ignored their speculative stares and headed to her changing room.