Chapter 516

No.1

Sebastian opened his mouth to protest.

Nathaniel kicked him sharply under the table. He adopted a serious, attentive expression. "You're absolutely right, Miss Montgomery. I'll be more mindful. Are there any other points I should remember?"

"Mommy," Oliver interjected, seizing the opportunity. "Daddy enrolls me in endless tutoring. My classes run until midnight every single night." He continued, his voice small. "And he leaves me alone at home most of the time. We only share one meal a week. He takes me out to play just once a month." A sad sigh escaped him. "All my friends have parents who play with them. I'm always by myself."

Her heart ached for the child. Isabella's expression hardened as she turned to Nathaniel. "Mr. Blackwood, this is entirely unacceptable. He carries your blood. You are his father. That comes with responsibility. He's a young child. Why burden him with so many classes? He isn't a machine. He deserves a joyful childhood. Furthermore..." She continued, listing his parental failings without pause.

Nathaniel didn't interrupt. He listened quietly, periodically refilling her water glass. When she finally finished, he pulled out his phone. "Miss Montgomery, would you provide me with your number? This way, you can continue to advise me on parenting matters in the future."

"Yes, Mommy," Oliver chimed in, nodding vigorously. "You have to remind Daddy every day. Otherwise, he'll forget everything you said."

Without a second thought, Isabella took out her own phone and added him on WhatsApp. Sebastian watched, utterly bewildered. How had this happened so quickly? They were exchanging contacts now?

Suddenly, Isabella's phone screen lit up. The caller ID showed 'Julian'. As her agent and friend, he only called for urgent matters.

She excused herself quickly and stepped outside to answer.

A flicker of jealousy tightened Nathaniel's chest. Julian. A man's name.

No.2

Sebastian leaned in, muttering, "Don't worry. I'll find out who that is."

Outside, Isabella listened to Julian's report.

"Two things, Bella. Maxwell found the guest list from The Ritz-Carlton five years ago…"

The name hit her like a physical blow. The Ritz-Carlton. Her body went rigid. Instinctively, she glanced back into the restaurant.

Nathaniel was carefully selecting food for Oliver. He noticed her look and gave a slight nod. A strange, unexplainable feeling washed over her. She felt a powerful urge to keep the incident from five years ago hidden from him.

"We'll discuss this when I return," she said swiftly, ending the call.

Nathaniel studied her tense posture. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"It's nothing important," Isabella replied, her brow furrowed. Why was she so worried about Nathaniel discovering the truth about that night? The reaction was puzzling, even to her.

She collected herself, her tone becoming brisk. "Something has come up. I need to leave. The repair shop is delivering my motorcycle. Take good care of him. No more spicy food."

"Mommy!" Oliver scrambled from his seat, clinging to her leg. He didn't want her to go.

No.3

She gently ruffled his hair. "Be good, sweetheart. I've added your father on WhatsApp. I'll be watching him closely to make sure he treats you properly."

"Okay! But you have to promise to video call me," Oliver beamed, his large, pleading eyes making him look like a hopeful kitten.

Isabella nodded. As she turned to leave, Nathaniel stood and followed her. "I'll walk you out."

Isabella tried to stop him, but Nathaniel was already heading out the door.

Fine.

Her motorcycle was conveniently parked right outside the restaurant. The technician handed her the keys.

She swung her leg over the bike in one fluid motion.

“Wait.” Nathaniel stepped in front of her, his hand closing around her wrist.

She instinctively tried to pull away, but he was already holding a small bottle of ointment. He gently applied it to her cut with his fingertip.

He was… tending to her injury?

No.4

His grip was firm yet careful as he smoothed the cream over her skin. He treated the wound with the reverence of a master artisan handling a priceless artifact. Then, he produced a narrow roll of gauze and wrapped it neatly around her forearm.

“Keep it dry for the next seventy-two hours. Try to minimize use of this hand,” he instructed, his voice a low, resonant murmur that vibrated through her.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm she hadn't felt in years. No one had shown her such deliberate, gentle care since before her world fell apart. The memory of that betrayal five years ago sliced through the moment, cold and sharp. She wrenched her arm back. “Thank you. Take care of Christopher.”

The engine roared to life beneath her. The motorcycle shot forward, a streak of crimson and steel. Her dark hair whipped wildly in the wind, the red dress a defiant banner against the fading light. She was a vision of untamed, breathtaking resolve, seemingly impervious to everything in her wake. Nathaniel’s expression darkened as he watched her disappear.

The tires of her bike crunched on the gravel driveway of Rosewood Manor. Julian Hawthorne was waiting inside, perched on the edge of a sofa, a manila folder resting on his knee.

“The list?” she asked, striding into the room.

“Maxwell is running deep background checks on every name. Results should be in shortly. However,” he said, his tone shifting, “there’s a more pressing issue.” He placed the folder on the coffee table. “Someone is digging. They’re investigating your five years in Africa. Due to an oversight on my part, this photograph was discovered.”

He slid a single photo across the polished surface.

In it, Isabella stood radiant in a crimson bandeau gown. Beside her was a man of regal bearing, his attire dripping with opulence, every finger adorned with massive, glittering diamond rings. He was presenting her with a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg.

Her brow furrowed. “This was supposed to be destroyed. If they connect the dots…”

No.5

“All other copies were. It seems Harrison Winslow kept one for himself. Sophia Kensington now has it,” Julian stated, closing the folder. “We can silence her. Or buy off every major media outlet to contain it.”

“No. It’s too late for that.” Isabella walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of water. She swirled the liquid, watching it spin. “If she’s found it, then let her play her hand. I just hope she’s prepared for the consequences.” Her voice was deceptively light, laced with a chilling promise of retribution.

Julian’s frown deepened. “You want to expose her ourselves?”

“It’s insignificant.”

That same evening, Twitter erupted.

#IsabellaMontgomery

#IsabellaFireflies

#IsabellaFlawlessFall

#IsabellaHeels

#Chanel160thAnniversary

No.6

#3DHolographicImaging

#AlexanderWhitmoreEatsShit

Six of the top ten trending topics were about Isabella. Clips of her performance were everywhere, transformed into animated GIFs and viral videos on platforms like YouTube, amassing millions of views and an avalanche of praise.

The internet erupted in a frenzy of adoration.

Comments flooded in, each more awestruck than the last.

“OMG! Isabella Montgomery is a goddess! That walk, those legs, her presence…utterly hypnotic! A supermodel reborn!”

“Other models have one good feature. She has them all. Her face, her legs, her aura…every inch of her radiates power. I’m obsessed.”

“Now I get her ‘sit back and watch’ comment. No wonder she took the finale from Victoria. Honestly, Victoria would’ve face-planted in those heels.”

“Agreed. Isabella owns the stage. Confidence is everything.”

“Didn’t Victoria Kensington trip and look pathetic? Isabella is my queen.”

No.7

Netizens crowned Isabella a hero. Even her former critics publicly apologized.

On Alexander Whitmore’s feed, the tone was starkly different.

“Wow. National Husband really has to eat shit on live stream? That’s gonna be disgusting.”

“You had a chance to perform too, right? Be a man and honor the bet. Stream it!”