Chapter 1579
No.1
Alexander’s face darkened. He glared at her retreating figure, his fists clenched tightly.
‘Isabella, you leave me no choice...!’ he seethed silently.
Isabella walked out through the main gates toward the road. She was about to call for a taxi when she noticed a sleek black car parked nearby. Wasn't that Nathaniel’s car? Why was he still here? Frowning, she began walking toward it.
Isabella approached the vehicle, her steps slowing as she took in the scene. Nathaniel sat motionless in the driver's seat, eyes closed, while Oliver slept soundly in the back. Dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns across Nathaniel's sharp features. The crisp white shirt he wore seemed to glow under the golden light, enhancing his aristocratic bearing.
An unexpected warmth bloomed in her chest. How long had they been waiting? Her meeting had lasted nearly four hours. "Nathaniel?" she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes opened instantly, dark and alert. Recognizing her, he straightened in his seat. "Finished?"
She nodded, studying him closely. "You waited here the whole time? Without eating?"
"Oliver insisted on staying. My schedule was clear today anyway." His tone was casual, dismissive. He moved to exit the car, but as his feet touched the pavement, his legs buckled. He stumbled forward, catching himself against her.
Isabella reacted instinctively, her hands flying to his waist to steady him. For a moment they stood frozen, her cheek pressed against the solid wall of his chest, his body leaning into hers. The scent of his cologne filled her senses—clean and masculine.
No.2
Two heartbeats passed before she regained her composure, pushing him upright. "What's wrong?"
"Pins and needles." His voice was tight, his expression carefully neutral. "From sitting too long."
She opened the rear door without hesitation. "Get in the back with Oliver. I'll drive."
Nathaniel stared at her, surprised by the command. When he didn't move, she added firmly, "I'm not letting someone with numb legs drive. It's a safety issue—for all of us."
Reluctantly, he slid into the backseat, settling Oliver's sleeping form across his lap. This was a first—being chauffeured by a woman. But Isabella handled the vehicle with confident precision, her movements smooth and controlled. She drove with unusual care, clearly mindful of her sleeping passenger.
Nathaniel found himself watching her—the way her hands rested lightly on the wheel, the focused set of her shoulders. An unfamiliar sense of peace settled over him.
Instead of heading directly to the Montgomery estate, she pulled into an upscale restaurant parking lot. Isabella emerged from the driver's seat and opened their door. "Let's eat."
Nathaniel hadn't expected such consideration. He gathered Oliver in his arms just as the boy stirred awake. Bleary eyes focused on Isabella, and immediately brightened. "Mommy! Mommy!" Oliver reached for her, his small arms waving excitedly.
Isabella took him, gently pinching his cheek. "You're awake now? Why did you wait for me outside? Next time, wait at home, promise?"
No.3
Oliver blinked, then glanced at Nathaniel. "Well...I wanted to go home, but Daddy said—"
A sharp cough from Nathaniel cut him off. "Are you hungry, Oliver?"
The boy's eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh! Right! I begged Daddy to wait! I was scared you'd forget about me." He beamed at Nathaniel before turning back to Isabella. "Yes, I'm starving! Let's eat, Mommy!"
Isabella's lips curved into a faint smile. She'd play along with their little charade—for now. Cradling Oliver in her arms, she led the way into the restaurant.
Nathaniel exhaled softly in relief. ‘Thank goodness. Dad made me promise to protect his image in front of Isabella. If she finds out he was waiting outside like a lovesick fool, it would ruin everything.’
The restaurant was one of Westchester’s most exclusive establishments, renowned for its impeccable privacy and discreet service. Its staff were accustomed to hosting high-profile celebrities and dignitaries, so the appearance of Nathaniel Blackwood and Isabella Montgomery caused no visible stir. The doorman greeted them with practiced calm.
“Good evening.”
The manager recognized Nathaniel immediately and glided forward. “Mr. Blackwood, your usual room is ready.”
Nathaniel maintained a permanent private dining suite here. It remained reserved for him, regardless of whether he had a reservation.
No.4
Once they were seated in the elegant, soundproofed room, Nathaniel turned his gaze to Isabella. His voice was infused with a soft, almost tender warmth. “What would you like to order?”
The manager nearly faltered, stunned by the unfamiliar gentleness in Nathaniel’s tone. Nathaniel Blackwood never brought women here. Seeing him with Isabella Montgomery was a revelation.
Isabella settled Oliver into his chair. “I’ve already eaten. Just order for yourself and Oliver.” She handed the menu to the boy. “What would you like, sweetheart?”
“Hmm…” Oliver pondered, tapping his chin dramatically before brightening. “The pork chop! And the crispy chicken wings! And the special family platter!”
“Excellent choices,” the manager said, inputting the order onto his tablet.
Nathaniel added one more savory dish and then swiped to the dessert menu. “We’ll also have the signature chocolate fondant cake.”
“Right away, sir,” the manager replied, bowing slightly before exiting to place their order.
Isabella raised a skeptical eyebrow at Nathaniel. “Since when do you have a sweet tooth? I thought that was more of a… feminine preference.”
Nathaniel’s eyes held hers. “It’s for you. I thought you might want something to enjoy while we eat.”
No.5
Her heart gave a traitorous, frantic leap against her ribs. Why did he have to be so perceptive? So damn considerate?
“I need to use the restroom. Watch Oliver for me.”
Nathaniel gave a single nod. “Of course. Be careful.”
Isabella stood and left the room, her mind a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. In just two days, the dynamic between them had shifted into something dangerously intimate. If this continued, she was terrified she’d fall for him completely, irrevocably.
Inside the restroom’s opulent silence, she braced her hands on the cool marble vanity and stared at her reflection. ‘Isabella Montgomery, get a grip! You cannot fall for Nathaniel Blackwood! You’re leaving in six months. This can’t happen… it just can’t!’
The restroom door swung open, breaking her reverie.
A woman walked in. It was Genevieve Beaumont.
Recognition flashed in Genevieve’s eyes, followed by a calculated gleam. “Isabella?” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with false warmth.
After the recent scandal, Genevieve had made herself scarce. She couldn’t risk anyone discovering she was the one who leaked the video to Isadora. She knew Isabella was a formidable force, an enemy she couldn’t afford to make. For days, she’d tried every channel to contact Isabella, all failing. Running into her here was an unbelievable stroke of luck.
No.6
Isabella shot her a dismissive glance and moved to leave.
Genevieve quickly intercepted her. “Isabella, SilverPeak Entertainment is utterly serious about signing you. What’s the hesitation? We offer the absolute best resources, backed by immense capital. Have you heard of the Delacroix family from America? Oil magnates. Their resources dwarf even a diamond mine. SilverPeak has access to it all. Just sign with us, and we promise to make you the biggest star in the world.”
Isabella froze. The Delacroix family? Seraphina Delacroix’s family? She hadn’t known they invested in SilverPeak.
“Does Seraphina Delacroix know you’re trying to sign me? Did she actually agree to this?”
“Absolutely,” Genevieve affirmed smoothly. “When she heard, she personally instructed me to secure your contract at any cost.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed into slits. What game was Seraphina playing now?
Genevieve Beaumont watched Isabella Montgomery carefully, believing she had finally swayed her. She leaned in closer, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “You might have immense wealth, Isabella, but this industry runs on connections and resources. It’s not just about having money.”
She ticked off points on her manicured fingers. “A top-tier career requires a full team. Resource coordination, fan engagement, strategic marketing, image retouching, intellectual property management… the list is endless.”
“A leading supermodel needs a support staff of at least twenty people. Handling it alone would be exhausting. Sign with SilverPeak Entertainment, and we handle everything for you.”
No.7
Isabella was well aware of these requirements. Her real question was about Seraphina Delacroix’s motive. She remembered clearly; Seraphina wanted to sign her to suppress her rising fame. Why would a woman known for her bitterness suddenly offer kindness?
“My apologies,” Isabella stated flatly, her expression unreadable. “But my team is already handling those matters.” She turned and walked toward the VIP exit.
Genevieve moved to follow, but the roped-off VIP aisle stopped her. Only those with exclusive access could proceed. Frustration boiled over. “Isabella Montgomery! A smart person recognizes a good opportunity! I’ve pursued you because I see your value! Don’t throw it away out of pride!”
Isabella didn’t bother to look back. She had no interest in a delusional woman’s rant. As she neared her table, a portly man stepped into her path.
His eyes lit up with recognition. “Isabella Montgomery! What a fortunate encounter! I’ve been trying to get in touch.” He eagerly extended a business card. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Isabella’s gaze dropped to the card without taking it. The embossed text read: Reginald Worthington, Chief Executive Officer, Golden Phoenix Entertainment.
Another entertainment executive.
She raised a cool eyebrow. “What is this about?”
“It’s simple,” he beamed, undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. “You’ve recently entered the industry. We want to sign you. This meeting feels like fate! You’re a diamond magnate, correct? I made my initial fortune in mining, too. Coal, in my case.”