Chapter 114

Isabella Sinclair desperately wished she could transform into Seraphina Lockwood's pet alligator, Rex, and tear that insufferable man Nathaniel Prescott to shreds!

They'd been married for three years, yet always slept in separate bedrooms. Nathaniel had never even held Isabella's hand. Now, after their divorce, he suddenly couldn't keep his hands off her. Isabella was certain even the alligator would refuse to bite him.

Because honestly, the man was a complete psychopath.

Nathaniel felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if his heart had shattered.

Just then, a sleek Porsche pulled up, and Preston Walsh jumped out in a panic.

"Mr. Prescott!"

"Have you lost your mind, sir? After that horrific accident, you should've gone straight to the hospital! Do you have a death wish?"

"I'm fine," Nathaniel muttered, struggling to keep his eyes open as Isabella's face blurred before him. "You're the one who's insane."

Isabella froze. Suddenly everything made sense - his delayed arrival, his strange behavior, his inability to steady a pen.

He'd been in a car accident!

"Nathaniel, you idiot! Do you think your pretty face makes you immortal? Internal bleeding could leave you paralyzed!" Isabella shouted, concern lacing her anger.

After a heavy silence, Nathaniel replied, "Didn't you always want me gone? If I went to the hospital, the divorce would be delayed. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Isabella stiffened, then laughed coldly. "Absolutely. Consider this my gratitude."

"Isabella!"

Hearing the familiar voice, she whirled around.

Two gleaming luxury cars had arrived.

Sebastian Lockwood and Adrian Montgomery stood impeccably dressed, the latter holding a bouquet of crimson roses. Both smiled warmly at her.

"Sebastian! Adrian!" Isabella sprinted toward them, her face lighting up.

Nathaniel tasted bitterness on his tongue.

For three years, he'd stood outside the Sinclair mansion while warmth and laughter filled its halls. Always left in the cold.

Pathetic.

He didn't know whether to hate himself for being a fool or Isabella for deceiving him.

"Why are you here?" Isabella eyed Sebastian's injured hand worriedly. "You should be resting!"

"I'm tougher than I look," Sebastian reassured. "We missed your wedding, but we won't miss this milestone."

"Thank you," Isabella whispered, touched.

"Congratulations, Isabella! Free at last from the Prescott nightmare!" Adrian thrust the roses into her arms.

"Thank you!" She buried her nose in the fragrant blooms.

Adrian's voice carried clearly, his contempt for the Prescotts unmistakable.

Nathaniel's face twisted like he'd been hit by another truck.

From another vehicle emerged Vanessa, Arabella, and Seraphina, surrounding Isabella with hugs.

"You all came?" Isabella's eyes shimmered.

"Obviously!" Seraphina squeezed her tight.

"Oliver wanted to come too, but his presence would cause a scene," Vanessa explained.

"I understand," Isabella nodded.

Watching his ex-wife enveloped in familial love, Nathaniel felt physical pain.

For three years, he'd given her none of this affection. Why had she stayed, enduring his cruelty?

He needed answers. Now.

"It's Arabella Sinclair! The legendary actress!" Preston gaped. "My mother worships her!"

Nathaniel shot him a death glare. "Back to the office!"

Then darkness swallowed him.

"Mr. Prescott!"

When Nathaniel awoke, he found himself in a hospital bed.

"Isabella." Her name escaped his lips first.

"You fractured your wrist and have a concussion. Some cranial blood clots, but nothing fatal."

Isabella stood silhouetted against the window, breathtaking in the backlight.

While unconscious, Preston had told her everything - Nathaniel hadn't slept all night, his office thick with cigarette smoke.

"The accident happened because he was exhausted. Or maybe another migraine episode."

Isabella knew how debilitating Nathaniel's headaches could be. He rarely drove because of them.

No sleep. Chain smoking. Ignoring injuries. Who was this performance for?

Certainly not her.

"Get well soon. I'm leaving." Her voice was ice.

"Isabella! Wait!"

Desperate, Nathaniel ignored his injuries and lunged after her.

As her hand touched the doorknob, he caged her against the door, his powerful frame trapping her in shadow.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" She seethed.

"Answer one question, and I'll let you go." His voice darkened. "Why did you marry me?"

"Like I need a reason!"

She raised her leg to kick, but Nathaniel pinned her knee against the door, rendering her immobile.

Though skilled, against Nathaniel's military training, she was hopelessly outmatched.

"Just the truth, Isabella."

"Fine! I was out of my damn mind! Now let me go before I scream!"

Nathaniel didn't budge, unsatisfied.

Suddenly the door burst open.

Isabella stumbled backward into Nathaniel's arms. His reflexes were lightning fast - one arm encircled her waist, his palm pressing against her abdomen.

Her curves were more exquisite than he'd imagined.

His throat tightened, heat pooling low.

Isabella's breath hitched as electricity shot through her body.

"Mr. Prescott! Mrs. Prescott?"

Preston stood frozen, his brain short-circuiting at the scene.

Isabella seized the moment to break free, aiming her stiletto at Nathaniel's foot. He dodged effortlessly.

Defeated but victorious, she vanished in a whirl of perfume.

"Should I...go after her?" Preston squeaked.

Nathaniel looked ready to murder someone.

Wrong timing indeed.

"HR. Now. Three months' salary deduction." Nathaniel growled.