Chapter 1836
No.1
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.
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.
No.2
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.
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.
No.3
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.
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.
No.4
Veronica, close the door!
Victoria's command echoed in the empty vehicle.
Then she remembered.
Veronica was gone.
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.
No.5
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.
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.
Isabella knew only one man could prove her innocence.
Victoria must have hidden him well.
No.6
She needed to find him through her own means.
Someone at this hotel five years ago must know his identity.
“Sister…” a soft voice called from behind.
Isabella turned to see Victoria in a white dress.
She ignored her, but Victoria approached anyway.
“It was all my fault back then,” Victoria said, feigning remorse. “I must have been insane. Or truly evil. I’m here to apologize. Look, I brought your childhood favorite—matcha cake.”
A cold shiver ran down Isabella’s spine.
Her favorite had always been strawberry cake.
Not matcha.
When they were children, their birthdays featured two cakes.
One was always matcha-flavored.
Made from expensive, finely ground green tea leaves.
Each slice cost a fortune.
Victoria, the wolf in sheep’s clothing, always shared it with Isabella.
She did it to earn praise for her generosity.
No.7
If Isabella refused, she was called ungrateful.
As the adopted daughter, she had no voice.
She learned to accept it.
So everyone believed she loved matcha cake.
Victoria had stolen her voice since childhood.
“You think this cake makes up for everything?” Isabella’s voice was icy.
“It’s from Yukkuri. Their matcha cake is famous. Please, try it…” Victoria said sweetly.
Isabella laughed, a sharp, mocking sound.
“Really, Victoria? You apologize with a cake? Is that all you’re worth?”
Victoria stiffened, caught off guard.