Chapter 1370
No.1
In a sterile hospital room, Seraphina Delacroix seethed, scrolling through the online frenzy from her sickbed.
"That conniving little opportunist, Arabella! She capitalized on my absence! That top model title would never have been hers if I were there!
"And that gown! Someone paid a fortune for it. How did that wretch Isabella get her hands on it? What did she have to do to wear it?
Fury contorted Seraphina's features as she viciously pummeled her pillow.
"Ms. Delacroix, the doctor stressed the importance of rest and calm for your recovery," her assistant ventured cautiously, trying to soothe her. "This anger isn't helping. The company's current crisis is the more pressing matter. Numerous artists are threatening to terminate their contracts. Arabella, in particular, has become insufferably arrogant since winning that award tonight. She's publicly slandering our company, calling us fraudulent and manipulative, claiming we forced her into unethical situations."
"Hmph! She owes her entire career to this company. Dreaming of leaving? She can rot first!" Seraphina snarled, her teeth gritted.
After a moment of fuming silence, she looked up, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Wait. Weren't there persistent rumors about Arabella and Director Hue?"
"Yes, they were substantiated. I personally witnessed them together on one occasion…" the assistant confirmed.
A slow, cruel smile spread across Seraphina's face. "Let her terminate her contract. She can leave only after she pays the full termination penalty in blood! And then… let her scurry off to Isabella's new little venture."
"To GoldenPhoenix? Ms. Delacroix, are you sure? That seems…" her assistant trailed off, bewildered.
"You're the one who's lost your mind! Didn't Isabella want to challenge a giant with a pebble? Didn't she boast about poaching my artists? Fine. Let her have them. This time, I will ensure her precious GoldenPhoenix is buried for good."
Pure, unadulterated malice shone in Seraphina's eyes, mixed with a cold, calculated evil.
Isabella’s phone buzzed early the next morning.
It was Julian Hawthorne.
“SilverPeak just terminated contracts with several artists,” he informed her. “Arabella Fontaine is among them. They’re all demanding to see you. They need your signature to finalize the termination. The compensation amounts are massive—these are top-tier supermodels. My assistants can’t handle them.”
“Understood,” Isabella replied. “I’ll be there soon.”
She turned and glanced at the bed.
Nathaniel and Oliver were both still asleep.
They must have stayed up late.
No.2
Oliver hadn’t woken early to paint.
He was curled in the middle of the bed, breathing softly.
Nathaniel lay on the inner side, one arm draped protectively over the boy.
Their profiles, one strong and one delicate, looked like carved jade in the soft morning light.
A warm smile touched Isabella’s lips unconsciously.
She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb them.
Shortly after she left, Nathaniel’s phone vibrated on the nightstand.
His eyes opened instantly.
A message glowed on the screen.
[Good morning, Mr. Blackwood. This is Victoria Kensington.
I believe you should know what happened five years ago.
Has Isabella told you? Probably not.
She prefers to handle things alone.
She’s always been fiercely independent.
But Alexander Whitmore has gone too far lately.
He left me, and now he’s threatening Isabella with evidence from that night.
He’s trying to force her to marry him.
What he has… it tortures her.
It could make her do anything—even things she would never choose.
No.3
If he becomes desperate, he might drag her down with him.
Destroy her completely.
You’re the only one who can stop this.
Meet me at The Ivy at 2 p.m.]
Nathaniel’s gaze turned icy.
He had never wanted to pry into Isabella’s secrets.
But this message changed things.
How severe was the incident five years ago?
It seemed he had to find out.
He pulled up Dominic Sterling’s contact.
“Clear my afternoon schedule,” he ordered.
Meanwhile…
Victoria grinned when she saw her message had been read.
She was officially discharged from the hospital.
Though a patch of her hair had been shaved, it was easily hidden with a wig.
No one would notice the scar.
And she had the perfume.
That special perfume.
Created by an expert, it stripped away a person’s self-control.
No.4
Made them act on impulse.
If a woman with a child could seduce Nathaniel Blackwood, so could she.
Anything Isabella could have, Victoria would take.
Once she slept with him, she would have leverage.
Even if he didn’t want her, she could demand a massive settlement.
Enough to buy Jordan family shares if her father refused to give them to her.
She needed to seize control before Isabella exposed everything.
And…
She placed a hand on her abdomen.
She was in her fertile window.
If she got pregnant with his child…
The Jordans’ disdain wouldn’t matter anymore.
She’d be set for life.
With renewed excitement, she began selecting her outfit.
Isabella arrived at GoldenPhoenix.
Only Arabella Fontaine was waiting in her office.
Arabella was known for her gentle demeanor.
She was SilverPeak’s second most valued artist.
Her voice was soft, almost melodic.
No.5
She gave off the aura of moonlight—calm and serene.
But SilverPeak had marketed her as a foodie.
At every event, she had to eat.
And eat.
And keep eating.
All to win audience approval and build her brand.
Arabella despised the persona.
But she had no choice—the company enforced it.
That character won her the Most-Likeable Supermodel Award.
It brought endorsements and customer loyalty to SilverPeak.
Last year, she received the ‘Most Commercial-Valued’ award.
This year, she was crowned ‘No. 1 Supermodel’.
Isabella studied her with a curious frown.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “Did you manage to terminate your contract? Is SilverPeak really letting you go?”
Arabella shifted slightly, a flicker of unease crossing her features before she quickly composed herself.
“I heard Mr. Hawthorne and Mr. Sinclair mentioned GoldenPhoenix doesn’t force personas on artists. Does that mean we can be authentic?”
“Correct. I reviewed your portfolio. Maintain your elegant, intellectual style. You’ll lead the Celestial Gala this year.” Isabella’s tone remained strictly professional.
“Seriously?” Arabella gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief.
The Celestial Gala was a massive annual tradition. Thousands paraded through heritage sites in historical attire, a spectacle known worldwide. Victoria Kensington always held the lead position—no one else ever got it. Even when Arabella participated before, she was relegated to second or third row. They even forced her to sneak snacks during the event, drawing harsh criticism from traditionalists.
No.6
Now she would lead?
Isabella responded with practiced calm. “Yes. No need to worry. We won’t force binge-eating antics. Drop the ‘foodie’ persona entirely. Ask if you have further questions.”
A sudden thought struck Arabella. “Does this apply to all models?”
“Equal treatment for everyone.” Six words, delivered with crisp efficiency.
Isabella handed her several files. Arabella accepted them, scanning the detailed plans for herself and other top models. Each plan eliminated forced personas and tailored opportunities to their natural strengths. Far superior to SilverPeak’s proposals!
Arabella stayed behind, representing the others, to review GoldenPhoenix’s full strategy. Every detail was meticulously crafted.
She stood, extending her hand. “President Montgomery, I look forward to our collaboration.”
“Likewise.” Isabella shook her hand firmly. “Remember to inform the others: if these high-value contracts fail, I stand to lose the most.” A faint, confident smile touched Isabella’s lips as she exited.
The reminder hit Arabella. The termination clauses were nearly a billion per model. Isabella paid them all upfront. If they underperformed, her losses would be staggering. Yet she invested massively, offered bespoke plans, and took minimal commission. What was her real goal?
Watching Isabella leave, Arabella realized she was different. Not like other models. Not like any manager she’d ever met.
After the meeting, Isabella headed to another office to meet Julian Hawthorne and Adrian Sinclair. Julian was absent, but Adrian’s face lit up upon seeing her. “Isabella! Finally free to visit?” he greeted warmly. “Has it really been five years?”
“What’s this? Miss me? Need me checking in on you?” she teased lightly.
Adrian hastily fastened his top button. “No need! I’ve been buried in work. And you, since Victoria’s exposure! The paparazzi must be hounding you. No time to check on anyone else.”
Isabella’s expression darkened at Victoria’s mention. The paparazzi had indeed swarmed, seeking interviews she consistently declined. Perhaps a public appearance was needed soon. To shame the couple properly.
Adrian’s tone turned serious. “Speaking of Victoria… the news reminded me of something from five years ago. Something I should have warned you about. That night… I saw Victoria meeting a man. They were talking privately.”
“A man?” Isabella’s brow furrowed. She gripped his wrist tightly. “What did he look like?”
Adrian watched her reaction with amusement. "I've never seen you so worked up before," he teased. "So you do have feelings after all."
They had maintained contact over the past five years, but the Isabella he knew now was completely different from the woman he remembered. She had transformed into someone who rarely showed emotion, as if nothing could penetrate her icy exterior.
Isabella's brow furrowed slightly. Before returning to the city, she hadn't cared about finding that man. She only wanted closure. But after spending time with Nathaniel, her hatred had grown into something visceral and consuming.
No.7
She released her grip on Adrian's wrist, composing herself. "Of course I care. A monster like that shouldn't be allowed to walk free. He's a danger to everyone."
"Always the responsible CEO," Adrian remarked. His expression turned serious. "But at the club, we were too far apart. I only caught a glimpse of him through the crowd. Couldn't see his face clearly. The only thing I noticed was that he was one of Sebastian's men."
"Sebastian Blackwood?" Isabella's eyes narrowed.
Adrian nodded. "The man wore a distinctive half-moon ring. I remember it because the design caught my eye. It was the Blackthorn Syndicate's symbol. If you want to investigate, have Maxwell and his team put pressure on them. You might find some leads."
Isabella considered this. Putting pressure on the syndicate sounded like a solid plan.
Just as she was about to act, her phone rang urgently. Maxwell's excited voice came through. "Boss Montgomery! That Nightshade formula you developed last year just sold for ninety million! You'll never guess who bought it!"
"Not interested," Isabella said flatly. She had created the formula out of boredom and hadn't cared about its fate.
Maxwell sounded disappointed. "It was your sister Victoria! She even arranged to meet Boss Blackwood at The Ivy! Room 999!"
"What?" Isabella's expression darkened. "She's meeting Nathaniel?"
The Nightshade perfume had powerful aphrodisiac properties. This could lead to disastrous consequences. "Forget about Nathaniel for now," she ordered. "I want you to round up every member of the Blackthorn Syndicate. Leave no one behind."
"All of them? Boss, are you serious-"
Beep, beep, beep!
Isabella ended the call without waiting for his response. She didn't have time to explain further to Adrian as she strode out of the building, already dialing Nathaniel's number.
Meanwhile, Nathaniel sat in the back of his luxury car as Dominic drove into The Ivy's parking lot. His eyes were closed, but Isabella's words from their confrontation at The Ritz-Carlton echoed in his mind. She had made it clear she didn't want his involvement, and as a man of honor, he should respect that.
But someone had threatened her. How could he possibly stay out of it?
As he wrestled with his thoughts...
Ring, ring! His phone vibrated, the screen displaying the caller ID: (Wife).
Nathaniel’s brow furrowed. Isabella never called him. “What is it?” he answered, voice guarded.
She was already on her motorcycle, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. “Don’t meet Victoria. Ask me anything you want when you get home. I’ll tell you everything.”