Chapter 139

Lucas Kingsley's gaze bore into Isabella Sinclair, his dark eyes unreadable.

His sister had always been exceptional at turning the tides. Rules meant nothing to her—she bent them, broke them, rewrote them when necessary.

Give her the slightest opening, and she'd flip the game entirely, leaving her enemies scrambling.

Nathan Prescott's expression twisted. He hadn't anticipated Isabella's question.

"Judging by your reaction," she said coolly, lips curling, "you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Nathan swallowed hard, stumbling over his words. "I—I do. Because... the child is mine."

The Sinclair siblings froze.

Isabella's fingers tightened in quiet triumph. This storm had just handed her a weapon.

"Explain," Lucas demanded, voice like ice.

"I was a personal trainer at an elite gym overseas. That's where I met Victoria. She was... persuasive. Things happened."

Isabella arched a brow. "Go on."

"It was never serious. Victoria had plenty of men. I was just another one. One night, we got high, got reckless. She took the morning-after pill, but..." He shrugged. "Sometimes they fail. She found out she was pregnant."

Isabella blinked. So, Victoria dabbled in drugs. Interesting.

"Knowing her, she wouldn't keep it. Why did she?"

"She claimed her health was too fragile. Said if she aborted, she'd never conceive again. No wealthy family would accept a barren daughter-in-law, so she had to carry it."

Nathan sneered. "Funny, considering how wild she was in bed. Didn't seem fragile then."

Isabella's jaw twitched, but she kept her composure. "Where's the child now?"

"Some orphanage overseas. A girl, two or three years old. That's all I know."

He wasn't lying—just disgustingly indifferent. He'd never bothered to see his own daughter.

"People like you shouldn't be allowed to breed," Lucas snarled. "You discard a child like trash?"

"I didn't—! Victoria's mother kept tabs on her. The baby was taken right after birth. That woman knows where she is!"

Isabella's eyes gleamed. A plan formed instantly.

She glanced at Lucas.

No words were needed. They understood each other perfectly.

The basement door creaked open. A guard strode in, holding Nathan's phone.

"Miss Sinclair, you have a call."

She took it, scanning the screen. "Nathan. Who is it?"

Nathan paled. "Victoria."

"Answer it. Talk normally. One wrong move..." Her smile was lethal.

He nodded frantically.

The call connected. "Victoria. Miss me already?"

"Cut the crap." A pause. Then, low and sharp: "You haven't done anything stupid, have you? I told you to wait for my orders."

Nathan forced a laugh. "Of course not. I wouldn't dare."

Isabella smirked.

So, Nathan had acted alone. Desperate for money, he'd tried to eliminate her without Victoria's approval.

Pathetic.

"Don't touch Isabella yet. Wait for my signal."

Victoria's voice dripped with smugness. "Things are falling into place. Alexander trusts me again. He's been by my side for days. His father approved our marriage. The engagement will happen soon."

Engagement?

Lucas frowned, watching his sister.

But Isabella merely yawned.

Seeing her indifference, Lucas relaxed.

"Since you're securing Alexander," Nathan pressed, "what about my money?"

"Impatient much?" Victoria scoffed. "I'll transfer 50K now. The rest after the engagement."

"And Isabella?"

"Make her suffer."

Victoria's voice turned venomous. "She ruined my life. I want hers destroyed. If you can't cripple her, at least scar that pretty face."

The call ended.

Nathan trembled.

Isabella? Unfazed.

"You did well. Rest now."

Her phone buzzed—Daniel Carter calling.

She turned away, leaving the basement.

The moment she left, the air shifted.

Nathan's breath hitched as Lucas approached.

The nobleman's silver cross swung from his lapel, glinting like a blade.

Lucas didn't touch him. Yet Nathan felt death breathing down his neck.

"You hurt my sister," Lucas murmured, eyes burning with quiet fury.

Then—

A flash of silver.

A scream tore through the basement.

Lucas had severed Nathan's hand with the cross.

Outside, Daniel stood in the cold, face pale.

"Daniel?" Isabella hurried over. "You shouldn't be here."

His eyes were red-rimmed. Voice shaking, he whispered, "I'm sorry."