Chapter 1758
No.1
As her thoughts spiraled into dark calculations, a figure emerged from the shadows. Draped in an emerald gown that swayed with each step, the woman moved with lethal grace. Her crimson lips curved into a subtle smirk.
Isabella Montgomery.
Recognition ignited in Victoria's eyes. Of course. It all made sense now.
"You," Victoria hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You engineered this. You manipulated me into sending those photos, didn't you?"
"Is it significant if I did?" Isabella's laugh was low and unapologetic. She stood tall, hand resting on her hip, not even attempting denial.
Rage ignited within Victoria, burning through her composure. Isabella had orchestrated her downfall—hacked her privacy and orchestrated this very public ruin.
Forgetting her surroundings, Victoria snarled, "You're my sister! How could you be so vicious? I'll expose you. Everyone will know the monster you truly are!"
"By all means, proceed." Isabella scrolled through her phone, utterly unfazed. "You tried to kill me. I discovered it. You offered nudes instead of an apology. I have every media contact in the country—take your pick."
Victoria stood speechless, trembling with fury.
No.2
Isabella had unearthed her secrets and weaponized them. The truth would ruin her.
Noticing approaching footsteps, Victoria's expression instantly softened. Tears welled in her eyes anew. "I don't understand why you're saying these things... I've never harmed you! Why fabricate such lies?" Her voice broke as if wounded. "I know you've always envied me. You leaked that photo to steal my opportunity. Had you simply asked, I would have gladly stepped aside! Why destroy my reputation?"
Veronica—now Isadora Vasquez—appeared at Victoria's side. "Exactly. Victoria has a heart of gold. How dare you treat her this way?" She glared at Isabella. "The Montgomerys raised a viper!"
Isabella laughed softly. No wonder Victoria dominated the entertainment industry—she could spin falsehoods into convincing truths. Bored by the theatrics, she replied coolly, "You're absolutely right. I do want to ruin you. What will you do about it?"
She tossed her voluminous hair over her shoulder. "Must you always repeat yourself? How tedious." With that, Isabella turned, her emerald dress flowing behind her as she walked away.
Victoria trembled with volcanic rage. This was not the timid, fragile sister she had once controlled. Isabella had transformed into someone bold, untamed, and infuriatingly arrogant.
She would not accept this. "Watch your back, Isabella Montgomery. This isn't over."
Inside her limousine, Victoria turned to Isadora. "Use every Kensington resource. I want her destroyed."
...
No.3
Back in the ballroom, the audition resumed once order was restored.
The manager announced, "Our final contestant: Isabella Montgomery."
The heavy doors swung open. Every eye turned toward her—including three watching intently from the mezzanine. Isabella moved with effortless grace, her simple heels clicking against the marble floor. The emerald gown complemented her fierce beauty, her red lips a statement of intent. She was, in a word, mesmerizing.
A wave of unease swept through the models. "Who is she? I've never seen her before."
"Isn't she the adopted daughter? She has no modeling experience. What makes her think she belongs here?" Sophia Kensington sneered.
Others sighed in disdain.
"How embarrassing. Does she believe anyone can audition for Chanel?"
"The ambassador must embody grace and beauty. She's overdressed—probably mistook this for a Victoria's Secret casting."
"Can someone remove her? She's wasting everyone's time." Complaints rippled through the crowd.
No.4
The manager regarded Isabella with open contempt. "Why is there an extra name on the list? Security, escort her out."
"One minute is all I need," Isabella stated calmly, continuing her path toward the stage.
No one believed her. Security moved to block her advance.
"Leave! Don't waste our time. We have actual careers—unlike you."
Oliver Blackwood tugged at Nathaniel Blackwood’s sleeve. “Daddy, help Mommy! Someone is hurting her!” he cried.
Nathaniel’s expression remained unreadable. He picked up his phone, found a contact, and dialed. When the call connected, his voice was low and commanding. “Isabella Montgomery is under my protection.”
Downstairs, the event coordinator stared at his phone in disbelief before his eyes darted toward Isabella, who was being restrained by security. Panic seized him. Dear god… This woman belonged to Nathaniel Blackwood?
“Release her! Now! Don’t lay a hand on Miss Montgomery!” he shrieked, his voice trembling with raw fear.
The security guards froze in confusion. The crowd fell silent, stunned. Wasn’t she just some nobody? What changed?
No.5
The coordinator rushed to Isabella and bowed deeply. “Miss Montgomery, my sincerest apologies. You requested one minute? Please, take all the time you require.” His words spilled out in a nervous, respectful rush. “Chanel values fairness above all. We would be honored to have you participate.”
Isabella’s brow furrowed. His attitude shifted faster than a flipping page. Who was on that call?
A strange sensation prickled her skin—the feeling of being watched. She glanced upward, her eyes locking with a man observing her from behind a second-floor glass door.
Nathaniel Blackwood.
What was he doing here? A faint, unconscious smile touched Nathaniel’s lips when their eyes met. Beside him, Oliver waved at her excitedly.
Isabella’s heart skipped. Why would Nathaniel help her? The kid was odd enough, but his father was even more perplexing. She had rejected him plainly yesterday. Was he actually pursuing her?
Nathaniel’s slight smile faded into a frown. Women usually threw themselves at him. Why did Isabella seem so wary and resistant?
Noticing Nathaniel’s intense gaze, the coordinator trembled. “Miss Montgomery, shall we assist you with any preparations?”
“No. I’m ready.” She walked toward the stage, confidence radiating from her.
No.6
Isabella’s goal was clear: strip Victoria Kensington of every opportunity and shred of fame. The audience remained clueless, still mocking her choice of dress and her audacity to compete.
They saw her as a delusional upstart. Giving her a chance was charity. Who did she think she was?
Even the designer was appalled. How could the coordinator allow this? Letting this woman touch her creation was an insult. “Not just anyone can wear my designs. If this amateur remains, I will cease working with Chanel.”
Suddenly, all the lights in the ballroom cut to black.
After a moment of darkness, a soft green spotlight swept across the T-stage. A weathered wooden stump materialized in the center. Isabella perched on it, one hand supporting her chin, her features exquisitely highlighted.
She leaned back with effortless grace, as if resting on a lazy summer afternoon. Her dark green dress cascaded around her, evoking a timeless, vintage beauty.
Her crimson lips did not clash with her elegance. Instead, they enhanced it, giving her an ethereal, almost mystical aura—cold and flawless.
Fireflies began to glow in the darkness, drifting toward her. Some settled on her curled lashes; others landed gently in her palm. The scene was breathtaking, a living fantasy painting.
The replica necklace around her neck seemed to come alive against her skin, glowing with an otherworldly light.
No.7
The audience held its breath, utterly captivated. It became clear: true beauty didn’t require simplicity or false innocence. A real goddess could shine even with blood-red lips.
The silence was absolute. Everyone was mesmerized.
When her performance ended, the spell broke. Thunderous applause erupted.
“Magnificent!”
“That’s the true essence of ‘Glowing Forest’!”
The designer completely retracted her earlier words. “Who is she? I take it all back. Sign her immediately!” she exclaimed, beaming. “We must have her!”
Upstairs, Oliver jumped with joy. “Mommy is so beautiful! Daddy, hurry! You have to win her over before someone else does!”
“Patience yields better results than haste,” Nathaniel replied flatly, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Hmph! You’re too slow! I’ll help you!” Oliver pushed away and bolted downstairs.