Chapter 870

No.1

"Yay!" He jumped for joy.

Isabella retrieved a tube top and tight shorts from her wardrobe. She slipped into the dressing room.

Oliver waited on the bed, swinging his legs. Daddy and Mommy needed a push. He was just helping!

Two doors opened simultaneously.

Nathaniel stepped out. His eyes instantly locked on Isabella. The oversized shirt drowned her frame. Lace trimmed the hem. The childish cartoon on the front should have looked silly. Instead, it was oddly endearing. The shirt stopped high on her thighs. Those long, toned legs were utterly captivating. His gaze lingered a moment too long.

Isabella's breath hitched. Nathaniel usually slept in dark, silk pajamas. Now, he wore stark white. The same ridiculous cartoon was plastered on his chest. It softened his usual severity, making him seem almost approachable. A small red heart was stitched over his right pec. The matching detail felt intensely intimate.

Flustered, she moved toward the bed. "It's past eleven, sweetie. Time for sleep."

"Okay!" Oliver dove under the covers, rolling to the far edge.

Isabella frowned. "Oliver, the middle is your spot."

"But you said the middle has bad air," he reasoned, all innocence. "My lungs felt funny sleeping there. I need the edge now. Daddy should take the middle."

Her stomach dropped. Nathaniel in the middle. Her on the side. That meant they'd be sleeping right next to each other.

No.2

“What if Oliver sleeps with Daddy instead?” suggested Isabella. “Or just with Mommy? Having only two people on the bed would allow better air circulation.”

“No! All three of us sleep together! I love sleeping with Daddy and Mommy.” Oliver gazed at Isabella with pleading eyes. “All my friends’ mommies and daddies sleep together… Unless, Mommy wasn’t telling the truth? Does Mommy not want to be my real Mommy?” His voice grew small and vulnerable.

Afraid the child might discover her contractual arrangement with Nathaniel, Isabella quickly reassured him, “Of course I want to be your Mommy. I’m just not comfortable sleeping near the edge. Come here, I’ll hold you while you sleep!” She moved to the center of the bed, facing Oliver, and wrapped her arms around him. Using him as a barrier felt practical—if Nathaniel tried anything, Oliver would either shield her or wake up.

Nathaniel watched her silently before switching off the lamp. Darkness enveloped the room. Oliver closed his eyes contentedly and soon drifted into sleep, his soft snores filling the quiet space.

Isabella released a quiet breath. This adorable child could be so overwhelming. Though the bed was spacious, lying next to Nathaniel still made her nervous. Her top was shorter than usual tonight, so she stayed alert, careful not to expose herself.

She reached for the blanket to cover up when her fingers brushed against something cool.

What was that?

She touched it again. The structure felt distinct. One, two, three…

Those were Nathaniel’s fingers!

Isabella flinched. She had touched his hand! And she had lingered there a moment too long.

“I was just pulling up the blanket. Don’t get the wrong idea!”

No.3

She turned her back to him and shifted away. Under the soft moonlight, Nathaniel could clearly see the alluring curve of her silhouette. His voice came out low and husky in the dark. “You’re stunning, Isabella.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Stunning… He thought she was stunning…

Why did his voice have to be so intoxicating?

This man was a natural charmer. That face could drive anyone insane. That voice alone was enough to melt her defenses.

She fought to steady her racing pulse, then remembered something crucial—she wasn’t under the covers. Which meant from his angle, he could see everything.

The way she was turned away from him gave him a full view of her waist, her thighs, and that ridiculously short top.

Panicked, she flipped onto her back. “Go to sleep,” she said sternly. “And no more talking.”

No more of that flirtatious nonsense, anyway.

Besides, she had plans to execute later. But everyone needed to be asleep first.

Nathaniel turned over without another word, though his eyes still traced her profile. She looked ethereal in the silver moonlight.

Then suddenly…

No.4

His hand moved, his fingers brushing against her collarbone. Isabella’s eyes flew open in alarm.

“What are you doing?!”

Not a single word was spoken.

Nathaniel’s hand came down firmly on her shoulder. He gave a sharp, sudden tug.

A single strand of hair slid free from her shirt.

It was the middle of the night. Why was Nathaniel plucking a hair from her clothing in the dark? And how had he even seen it? The strand seemed to grow longer as he pulled.

Realization hit Isabella. “Stop!” she whispered urgently.

But it was too late.

With that one motion, the stitching on her pajama sleeve gave way. The fabric—whatever it was made of—ripped easily. A section over her chest tore open, exposing her bralette.

Nathaniel’s large hand stilled. He hadn’t expected this. “My apologies,” he murmured, his voice low. “Shall I get you another shirt?”

“No.”

No.5

She’d have to get up. It was too much trouble. She pulled the blanket up to cover herself. “Turn over. Face the other way.”

Nathaniel’s brow furrowed, but he acquiesced. “Alright.”

He never refused her. He rolled onto his side, turning his back to her.

Isabella thought she could finally rest. But the sight of his bare back made her heart stutter again.

Moonlight outlined the powerful lines of his shoulders, tapering down to a narrow waist. Nathaniel had the build of a perfect male specimen. His muscular form was practically an invitation—to reach out, to hold him, to lose herself.

This man… Even his silhouette was dangerously suggestive. Isabella squeezed her eyes shut. She forced her thoughts away. He’s just a pretty picture. It’s all in your head. It’s all in your head…

Time passed. Thankfully, Nathaniel kept his word and didn’t turn. His breathing eventually evened out into sleep.

Thoughts of her plan and the Blackthorn Syndicate swirled in her mind. Once she was certain both Oliver and Nathaniel were asleep, Isabella slipped from the bed. The torn shirt gaped open as she sat up. Luckily, Nathaniel was asleep and didn’t see. She ignored it and moved to the dressing room.

From her luggage, she selected dark, practical clothing. She dressed quickly and silently left the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Nathaniel’s eyes opened. He had not moved.

Isabella noticed nothing. She used the key Nathaniel had given her earlier. In the garage, she chose the most discreet car and drove away from the Blackwood Estate.

No.6

The black sedan headed for a mountain range five miles outside the city. The peaks stretched over ten kilometers. Rumors said wild animals roamed there, keeping people away. Most saw it as just a dangerous, uninhabited place. But Isabella knew the truth. This was the heart of the Blackthorn Syndicate’s operations.

Victoria had hired them to set the trap five years ago. The Syndicate was old, disciplined, and secretive. Their strict codes meant they never talked. That was why Isabella had found nothing all this time.

Now, the truth was close. She had to find out who was responsible.

Isabella parked the car and moved swiftly into the mountains. The night was pitch black, but her vision was keen. She climbed over fallen logs, swung from thick vines, and leaped across gullies. Dressed in black, she moved like a creature of the night—silent and sure.

In the darkness behind her, Nathaniel followed. His eyes, shadowed and intense, tracked her every agile move.

This woman never ceased to amaze him.

But what was she doing inside the Blackthorn Syndicate’s headquarters?

After clearing several obstacles, Isabella Montgomery finally reached the main compound.

High walls surrounded the base, with patrol dogs circling nearby.

A faint, knowing smile touched her crimson lips.

She tossed a small medicinal pellet into the air.

No.7

The hounds collapsed almost instantly, sound asleep.

Her agile form scaled the tall fence with practiced ease.

She dropped silently into a wide, five-thousand-square-foot training yard.

To the public, the Blackthorn Syndicate posed as a martial arts academy.

Only a select few knew the truth—membership required insider connections.

Trainees who proved worthy were eventually absorbed into the syndicate’s inner circle.