Chapter 737
No.1
A hoarse, aged voice cut through the chaos. Theodore anchored his walker heavily onto the floor. "A bunch of useless trash. Stop this squabbling immediately! Richard, you will go and apologize to Isabella. Right now. No matter what, you must secure her forgiveness. As for saving the Montgomery family, only ask if she is willing. If she is willing, the entire Montgomery family and all its assets will belong to her. If she is not, do not force it… I only wish for her to come home and share a meal with us."
Theodore desired nothing else—he merely longed to hear her call him 'Grandpa' one more time. All these years, she had addressed him as Grandpa while being the adopted daughter. Theodore yearned to hear it from the family's true heiress.
However, Sophia instantly jumped to her feet in protest. "No! The entire Montgomery family cannot go to her!"
The Montgomery family, if Isabella chose to save them, would be valued at nearly two hundred billion. That figure would skyrocket once their other assets were included. Though the Montgomery Group carried heavy debt, its proprietary technologies and dedicated workforce were irreplaceable. With sufficient capital infusion and retaining their core team, the Montgomery Group could swiftly reclaim its former prestige. If Isabella gained sole ownership, the rest of the family would be entirely dependent on her, stripped of their shares. They would lose all annual dividends.
Theodore Montgomery shot Sophia a cold glare. "If you can produce fifty billion to rescue this family, then you may claim the Montgomery Group."
Sophia fell silent. If she possessed that kind of wealth, she wouldn't be standing here pleading.
Theodore turned to Richard. "Remember, our only objective is to apologize. Whether she agrees to help is secondary."
"Understood, Father. We know our place after everything that's happened," Richard assured him. Eleanor sighed heavily beside them. "I'm still too ashamed to face her..."
Even a simple apology felt impossible while they were destitute. Asking for financial salvation was an even greater humiliation. Given their past mistreatment and the mountain of debt, how could Isabella possibly agree?
"Eleanor, you must go." Beatrice entered from the adjacent ward. She offered comfort, "An apology to Isabella is necessary. The Montgomerys cannot continue like this. We've exhausted every contact; no one will assist us. If Isabella provides the funds, as Theodore stated, all Montgomery assets and shares become hers. Furthermore, she can receive half of the Kensington family's fortune."
No.2
The Kensington family?
That was Beatrice's lineage, which included Eleanor's father—Isabella's great-grandfather. The Kensingtons were centuries-old ceramic developers, producing and supplying exquisite pieces. Their work was classified as nationally protected artifacts, with legends stating their ancestors crafted for royalty. However, the market for such cultural art was niche. Mass-produced commercial ceramics had overshadowed them, despite their superior value and heritage.
Eleanor frowned. "Would Grandfather truly agree to give half his estate to Isabella? That's at least thirty billion!"
"A sigh... You don't understand. Your grandfather only had your uncle and me. Your uncle was meant to inherit, but... he and his wife could never have children. They're in their late sixties now, still childless—too traditional to consider adoption. With no heir, the estate's future troubles him deeply. When I spoke to him today and mentioned Isabella, he expressed confidence in her. He's willing to grant her half," Beatrice explained.
After all, Eleanor was Senior Kensington's granddaughter, making Isabella his great-granddaughter. She was the youngest direct descendant of his bloodline.
A flicker of hope sparked in Eleanor. "With half the Kensington assets... Isabella would only need to provide around twenty billion to save the Montgomerys. Perhaps she'll agree... I'll speak with her."
Sophia seethed with envy. Isabella was so fortunate to have a great-grandfather ready to bequeath his fortune. Why was she so blessed?
Why didn't she have a generous great-grandfather like that?
Outside the ward, an elegant figure halted. Vivienne had come to Grace Memorial Hospital to visit a friend and had coincidentally overheard the entire conversation. Her fists clenched tightly.
Isabella knew the Hahn family's reputation intimately.
No.3
They were the sole dynasty in the nation honored as 'Ceramic Royalty' and 'Living National Treasures'.
Their craftsmanship was legendary.
Each piece was meticulously handcrafted for royal patrons across the globe.
Their output was intentionally scarce, creating years-long waiting lists for their exquisite work.
Nathaniel's grandmother was their most devoted collector.
She dispatched aides annually to secure her place in the queue, adding a new Hahn masterpiece to her private trove.
If Isabella reclaimed her Montgomery birthright and gained control of both the family shares and half the Hahn fortune…
Nathaniel's grandmother would undoubtedly champion her.
She would wholeheartedly support a union between Isabella and Nathaniel.
McKenzie had intended to expose Isabella to the Blackwoods.
No.4
But after overhearing the Montgomerys' discussion…
Isabella's hidden lineage changed everything.
McKenzie couldn't afford any risks.
She had to drive Nathaniel and Isabella apart before the Blackwoods discovered the truth.
McKenzie stormed out of Grace Memorial Hospital.
She slid into her car and immediately dialed Miranda.
"Any progress on locating Annabel?"
"Madam, I was just calling you. You must come to The Grand Mariner at once. I'll be at the service entrance," Miranda's voice buzzed with urgency.
"Drive to The Grand Mariner. Now," McKenzie commanded her driver.
The Grand Mariner was Westchester's most exclusive seafood establishment.
No.5
Every delicacy was flown in daily from international waters, prepared only upon order.
The car glided to a halt at the restaurant's rear delivery bay.
Miranda opened the door and slipped inside.
"Madam, look through the window. See who is working in there."
McKenzie peered through the tinted glass.
They were parked directly behind the restaurant's bustling kitchen.
Inside, a frail figure knelt on the cold tile floor.
She scrubbed a basket of fresh prawns with a stiff brush.
A simple white cap covered her hair, pulled into a limp ponytail.
Her uniform was drab and stained, marking her lowest status.
No.6
Yet her face remained hauntingly delicate.
It was petite, paler than McKenzie remembered.
Those wide, watery eyes still held that pathetic, pleading look.
One glance still stirred a foolish desire to protect her.
"Tch. Still playing the helpless victim," McKenzie's crimson lips twisted into a cold smirk.
She pushed the car door open and stepped out.
Miranda scurried ahead, clearing a path through the kitchen staff.
Annabel remained focused on her task, scrubbing the prawns on her knees.
She didn't notice the other kitchen staff silently dispersing.
The service door swung open.
No.7
A long shadow fell across her work station.
Annabel's eyes traveled up from a pair of elegant beige heels.
Her hands froze mid-scrub.
Her breath hitched.