Chapter 492

No.1

Seeing Isabella's expression shift, Christopher tugged her hand urgently. "Don't overthink, Mommy. Daddy only loves you! This mommy is from the past. And I only like you! I only want you as my mommy! Even though she seems nice, I don't like her. I feel nothing for her. Momo only loves you!"

Christopher spoke with complete sincerity. He truly felt no connection to Sophia, while he adored Isabella instantly upon meeting her. Being with Isabella felt warm and secure, as if she was his real mother.

Isabella removed the earbuds and ruffled his small head. "Don't worry, Momo. Mommy isn't overthinking. I'm just..."

She just found it difficult to accept. The situation felt increasingly complicated.

The door opened suddenly. Nathaniel's tall, imposing figure entered. He saw Isabella and Christopher by the window, holding the high-tech earbuds. He frowned.

Had she heard everything? Isabella met Nathaniel's gaze. Their eye contact grew complex and heavy.

The atmosphere turned tense and strange. After a moment of silence, Nathaniel spoke to Christopher. "Go upstairs."

"Okay..." Christopher sensed the seriousness and scurried upstairs on his small legs.

Isabella set down the earbuds calmly. "Momo gave them to me." She didn't want Nathaniel thinking she eavesdropped habitually.

"I understand."

No.2

Nathaniel harbored no suspicion toward her. After closing the door, he walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. He rested his arms on his lap, fingers entwined, leaning slightly forward.

He adopted a pensive posture, his expression grave. Isabella had never seen him like this. She knew he was gathering his thoughts, so she waited patiently by the window. After a while, Nathaniel asked, "Isabella, do you trust me?" His deep voice carried a faint trace of unease.

Isabella frowned. This wasn't the opening she anticipated. She looked at him and countered, "Does it matter? Whether I trust you or not."

"Of course it does." Nathaniel lifted his gaze to hers. "You heard everything. I was drugged five years ago. My consciousness was blurred. I harmed Sophia."

"Sophia attended the same university as me. I owed her a debt. But that's all it was—repaying a favor. No emotions involved. Give me time. I'll resolve this." His final sentence was delivered with sincere reassurance.

Isabella felt conflicted. Though Nathaniel sounded genuine, she had to consider other factors. Sophia suffered tremendously because of Nathaniel. Nathaniel had to make amends and take responsibility.

There would be more interactions between them. Could feelings develop through continued contact? Moreover, they shared a university background and a ten-year history.

Isabella Montgomery had only known Nathaniel Blackwood for three months.

Nathaniel noticed her silence.

His usually icy composure fractured with unease.

No.3

“Don’t overthink this, Isabella.” His voice turned gravel-rough. “I’ll handle it.”

“How long?” The question sliced through the tension.

Nathaniel’s brow furrowed. A timeline? He couldn’t promise one.

“I’m not certain yet. But I’ll expedite it.” Sophia Whitmore was drugged. Confronting Vivienne Delacroix without the antidote would backfire. Vivienne would make Sophia suffer more if provoked.

Until Sebastian Blackwood and his medical team developed an antidote, the situation remained volatile. Nathaniel refused to make false promises. Especially not to Isabella.

A sharp pang pierced Isabella’s chest. His caution was unnerving. The decisive Nathaniel Blackwood was hesitating. For Sophia.

He feared for her safety. He worried the antidote might never come.

It was simple, really. Had it been anyone else, Nathaniel would have crushed Vivienne immediately. But this was Sophia Whitmore. His former lover. Chris’s biological mother. That changed everything.

His concern for the consequences shackled him. That’s why he couldn’t give her a clear answer.

Ding-dong.

No.4

The doorbell chimed again.

Both their gazes snapped toward the entrance. Was it Sophia returning? Neither moved.

The bell persisted.

Faint voices filtered through the door. “Perhaps Isabella isn’t home? Should we wait?” It was Eleanor Kensington’s voice.

Isabella released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Go inside,” she instructed Nathaniel.

After that scene, introducing him to her estranged parents was impossible. Their future together now felt uncertain, hanging by a thread. Nathaniel paused, then wordlessly stood and retreated into the house. He respected her decision. He wanted to claim their relationship openly, but now was not the time.

The air in the living room remained thick and heavy even after he left. Isabella drew a steadying breath and opened the door.

Eleanor and Richard Montgomery stood there. Their wealthy veneer had completely vanished. They still wore the same clothes from the hospital yesterday, now wrinkled and stale. Eleanor’s hair accessories were gone, her face bare and weary. She looked plain and diminished.

Eleanor held a delicate matcha cake box. “Isabella…” Her greeting was strained, overly polite.

Isabella leaned against the doorframe, her posture cool and closed-off. “Yes?” Her tone was clipped, each word measured and distant, as if speaking cost her a fortune.

No.5

Richard and Eleanor felt the chilling divide. Guilt washed over them. This was their actual daughter. Their flesh and blood.

Because of Victoria Kensington’s schemes, they had ruined any chance with their real child. For twenty-three years, they’d cherished an imposter while their true heiress was scorned as the ‘adopted’ daughter.

Eleanor’s emotions were a tangled mess. She extended the cake. “Isabella, I remember you loved matcha cake. Your father and I bought this for you.”

Isabella’s eyes flicked to the offering. Her expression, already frosty, turned to absolute ice.

Matcha cake again.

In their youth, Victoria never enjoyed matcha-flavored desserts. She would always pass her portion to Isabella. As the adopted daughter, Isabella never felt empowered to refuse. She endured every bitter bite.

Eventually, everyone assumed she adored matcha cakes.

No one ever truly learned her preferences.

The memory almost made her laugh aloud now.

"I never liked matcha cake," Isabella stated flatly.

No.6

Eleanor froze, the cake hovering awkwardly between them. She had always believed Isabella loved matcha. All those years, they never knew her true tastes?

Slowly, Eleanor withdrew the offering. "We'll get you something you prefer next time. We want to understand you better now."

"Unnecessary," Isabella dismissed coldly.

Richard's voice strained with emotion. "We know you resent us, Isabella. We were wrong. We failed you terribly."

He continued, "Discovering you're our biological daughter changes everything. We will compensate for past neglect. We won't repeat those mistakes."

Eleanor's eyes glistened with unshed tears. Her gaze pleaded for forgiveness. "I'm so deeply sorry, Isabella. We treated you like an outsider since childhood. We never listened. Never tried to understand you."

Her voice trembled. "Recently, our actions became unforgivable. We wronged you repeatedly."

She clasped her hands tightly. "We don't deserve your forgiveness. But tell us how to ease your pain. Shout at us. Strike us. Anything to provide you solace."

Both parents radiated genuine remorse and shame.

Isabella observed their weary expressions. The satisfaction she anticipated felt hollow now. Seeing their pain brought no fulfillment.

No.7

Their apologies meant nothing. Could words undo childhood trauma? Erase years of neglect?

Never.

Those experiences shaped her permanently. She never felt belonging in this family.

Yet, should she despise them? They were also Victoria's puppets. Victims of manipulation.