Chapter 1584

No.1

Greenwish Park sat isolated. Prehistoric-themed. Decorated with pavilions and bridges over a serene river. Normally, entry required a fee. Today, Amor Group booked the entire park for the shoot.

The company also reserved a suite at The Ritz-Carlton for Isabella’s team.

She paused in the hotel’s grand lobby. Her mind drifted back five years.

Those memories were a nightmare. This was the place. Where she lost her innocence. That night forced a complete transformation. A shy girl forced out of her shell.

She was no hypocrite. But society held no tolerance for such things.

Suddenly…

“You’re here, Isabella.” A gentle voice broke her reverie.

Isabella Montgomery turned her head and saw Seraphina Delacroix, the founder and lead designer of Amor Group.

At twenty-five, Seraphina Delacroix came from one of Shelburne's most influential families. She had launched her bridal empire at just sixteen. In only nine years, she built Amor Group into the premier bridal brand worldwide.

Yet, she was not the star of the Delacroix family. That title belonged to the eldest daughter, Vivienne.

Vivienne was fluent in multiple languages, skilled in arts, finance, investment, and even crafts like stitching and pottery. She was the golden child, the prodigy.

Rumors also claimed Vivienne was the Blackwood family's chosen daughter-in-law, a perfect match for Nathaniel.

Isabella felt a sharp pang of envy at the thought.

"The makeup artist is waiting for you in the dressing room," said Seraphina, her tone both humble and aristocratic.

"Alright." Isabella followed the assistant to a room on the first floor.

No.2

The vanity was lined with an array of luxury cosmetics. The wardrobe overflowed with exquisite bridal gowns.

This room felt different from the one five years ago. That difference might hold the key to uncovering the truth.

"Could you tell me the theme for today's shoot?" Isabella asked.

"Today is mainly for fitting and styling," the assistant explained. "We're doing a relaxed, sunset-themed session. Tomorrow, we'll capture the sunrise shots. Then we're done."

"Understood," Isabella replied as the team began preparing her.

"Immerse yourself in Ms. Montgomery's unique aura. Enhance her natural charisma. She will embody our designs perfectly," Seraphina instructed the stylist.

She turned back to Isabella. "Today's concept is a departure from Guci's usual bold style. We're focusing on elegance and refinement. Please be prepared so we don't waste anyone's time."

Seraphina's words were polite but carried a condescending edge. Privately, she disliked Isabella. She viewed her as arrogant and ill-suited for the gown's delicate theme.

However, Isabella was the hottest celebrity right now. Her involvement would generate massive buzz. Seraphina had to concede.

"Don't worry. I only accept projects I know I can master. I'm more concerned this collaboration might tarnish my reputation," Isabella retorted coolly.

Seraphina's expression tightened. She couldn't fathom how someone so insolent could portray elegance.

Yet, once work began, Isabella transformed. Her professionalism was impeccable.

Between shots, she relaxed on a rocking chair, fanning herself casually. Her face was exquisitely delicate. Her long, silky hair cascaded past her waist like a waterfall. Her features were a perfect labyrinth, captivating and mesmerizing. Strolling through the set, her beauty was so profound it felt almost surreal.

She possessed a reserved quality that contrasted sharply with Victoria's flamboyance.

Isabella was genuine, unlike other pretentious celebrities. Cold as ice yet sweet as honey. Her maturity defied her age. An ethereal presence that commanded every gaze.

No.3

The shoot, scheduled for four hours, wrapped in just two. Pleased with the smooth progress, Seraphina left the set.

Isabella lounged lazily under a shade, awaiting the evening session.

"Ms. Montgomery, don't you usually bring a personal assistant?" someone asked curiously.

Reclining in the rocking chair, she responded, "Why would I need one?"

I'm here to massage and fan you.

I can also run any errands you need.

Is a photoshoot really that exhausting?

I remember many professions being far more demanding.

Yet I've never seen farmers or researchers getting massages during work hours.

The crowd fell silent under her blunt observation.

She continued without hesitation.

Hiring multiple assistants might look impressive, but it's just vanity.

This toxic trend in our industry needs to change.

Her words struck a chord with everyone present.

Having personal assistants had always been standard practice for celebrities.

No.4

Some even brought private makeup artists despite provided staff.

Her perspective made them reconsider other grueling professions—farmers laboring under harsh sun, scientists pulling all-nighters, architects sacrificing sleep.

You're absolutely right, Ms. Montgomery.

You're the most grounded artist I've ever met.

Let me get you a drink!

This isn't blind admiration—it's genuine respect!

Just say the word if you need anything.

I'll help however I can!

They surrounded Isabella, their praises heartfelt and sincere.

I was supposed to be the ambassador.

Victoria seethed from her vantage point at Greenwish Park.

She crushed the cake box in her hands, knuckles whitening.

Isabella stole everything from me.

She shouldn't even be here!

Penelope flinched at her outburst.

No.5

Ms. Kensington, we brought this for the apology video...

Her voice trembled as she offered the dessert.

The reminder intensified Victoria's fury.

Her knees still ached from yesterday's prolonged kneeling.

She had faked tears, begged forgiveness, even feigned exhaustion—all to salvage her reputation.

Every performance was calculated to maintain her status.

Get another one. Now.

Victoria's tone left no room for argument.

But the nearest patisserie is seven kilometers—

A glacial stare cut her off.

Penelope wiped cold sweat from her brow and scrambled from the car.

Veronica, close the door!

Victoria's command echoed in the empty vehicle.

Then she remembered.

Veronica was gone.

No.6

The memory surfaced abruptly—her eighth birthday, when Veronica revealed she wasn't a biological Montgomery.

The truth had devastated her initially.

But Veronica's timing was strategic; early exposure prevented greater scandal later.

Without that warning, she might have been disinherited without a cent.

Everything she built would have crumbled.

Over the years, Veronica helped her manipulate Isabella, securing her place in the family.

Veronica understood her like a mother—patient with her temper, accepting her flaws.

With Veronica, she could drop the perfect facade and simply exist.

Now imprisoned, Veronica was beyond reach.

Victoria was truly alone, with no one to trust or confide in.

Isabella. This is all your fault.

Her venomous gaze locked onto the distant figure.

The burning hatred crystallized into a single focus.

She would destroy Isabella Montgomery, no matter the cost.

The afternoon sun made her eyelids heavy.

No.7

Isabella decided to rest after the film crew departed.

She had checked into The Ritz-Carlton with a purpose—to uncover the truth about that night.

Five years ago, her plan was straightforward.

She intended to have Victoria imprisoned for poisoning them, letting the authorities handle it.

She believed Victoria would confess to avoid public disgrace and total ruin.

But things spiraled out of control.

Gabriella’s unexpected loyalty shocked her.

Gabriella took full responsibility for Victoria’s crimes.

Now, Victoria would never confess to save Gabriella.