Chapter 165

Isabella Sinclair lifted her delicate chin just a fraction, her piercing gaze locking onto Nathaniel Kingsley as she strode toward him.

Instantly, the man felt his pulse skyrocket, his throat constricting, every muscle beneath his tailored suit coiling tight. It was as if her presence alone had electrified his nerves, pulling him toward her with an irresistible force.

Beside him, Evelyn Prescott's grip on his arm tightened, her nails digging in unconsciously. A surge of possessiveness twisted inside her chest.

She didn’t need words to understand—this stunning woman wasn’t just familiar to Nathaniel. She mattered to him.

But just as Nathaniel braced himself, expecting Isabella to stop before him, she breezed past without a second glance.

"Christian!" Her voice, bright and melodic, carried down the corridor as she greeted the world-renowned pianist with a radiant smile.

"Oh, my darling!"

Christian Delacroix, emerging from the opposite end, lit up like the sun. She embraced Isabella as if reuniting with a cherished friend, even using an affectionate nickname that spoke volumes of their closeness.

The entire hallway froze in shock—especially Evelyn.

Christian was notoriously distant, a woman who rarely spared smiles, let alone warmth. During Evelyn’s three years studying under her, praise had been scarce, and indifference the norm.

So who was this woman who could effortlessly draw such rare affection from her mentor?

"Sweetheart, I had no idea you were in Elmsworth! Had I known, I would’ve cleared my schedule for dinner!" Christian squeezed Isabella’s hands, beaming.

"I didn’t want to interrupt your rehearsals," Isabella replied smoothly.

She knew Christian under her designer alias, having crafted multiple custom gowns for the pianist. Their private rapport was strong—Isabella had a gift for turning professional connections into genuine friendships.

Nathaniel watched, his broad shoulders tensing, memories flooding his mind like a dam breaking.

He remembered the early days of their marriage, when Isabella’s eyes had sparkled just as brightly for him. She’d chatter excitedly about her day, her art, her music—full of life, full of love.

And he’d ignored her.

He’d dismissed her as dull, comparing her unfairly to Victoria, convinced marrying her had been a mistake.

But the truth? His cold neglect had suffocated her light. He’d molded her into a shadow of herself, silent and contained, until she’d finally broken free.

"Mr. Lockwood!"

Isabella’s voice snapped him back to the present. Her gaze flickered past Nathaniel, landing on Sebastian Lockwood. She waved him over, her smile effortless.

"I’m coming."

Sebastian adjusted his tie, his usual composure slipping just slightly as he strode toward her.

Nathaniel’s fists clenched, pain lancing through his chest. Beside him, Harrison Prescott looked equally sour, their expressions dark as storm clouds.

As Sebastian passed Nathaniel, he paused. Pushing his glasses up with one elegant finger, he turned his head—just enough to meet Nathaniel’s eyes.

The smirk that curled his lips was pure, unapologetic triumph.

Nathaniel’s heart shattered.

He could only watch, powerless, as Sebastian joined Isabella’s side, as they laughed with Christian, as the world moved on without him.

Was this really how it ended?

Was he truly just a spectator in her life now?

"This is my dear friend," Isabella introduced Sebastian warmly. "His mother adores your work. He was hoping for a signed record as a keepsake for her."

"Absolutely! It would be my pleasure."

Christian, ever gracious, not only obliged but summoned her manager to snap a photo of the three of them.

The moment was flawless.

So flawless it left Nathaniel hollow, his blood turning to acid in his veins.

Outside the concert hall, Evelyn clung to Nathaniel’s arm, chattering nonstop about her time abroad, her voice dripping with saccharine nostalgia.

The only difference from childhood? Harrison now trailed behind them like a disgruntled pack mule, ignored and scowling.

Isabella had dumped him. Evelyn was too wrapped up in Nathaniel to spare him a glance.

He was starting to question his entire existence.

In the parking lot, Nathaniel suddenly stopped. With deliberate force, he extracted his arm from Evelyn’s grip.

"Nathaniel?" She blinked up at him, her hand hovering midair, wounded.

"Evelyn." His voice was ice. "You’re an adult now. This behavior isn’t appropriate anymore."

"What’s inappropriate about a sister holding her brother’s hand?" she protested, her lower lip trembling.

"Harrison is your brother. I’m not." He left it at that, unwilling to spell out the awkward truth.

Evelyn’s eyes welled with tears, but beneath the surface, fury simmered.

This sudden distance—it was because of her, wasn’t it?

Victoria had finally been pushed aside. Evelyn had rushed back from abroad, determined to claim Nathaniel for herself.

She wouldn’t let some random woman steal what she’d coveted for years.

"You’re being cruel," she whispered.

Harrison, ever the doting brother, swooped in to console her. "Come on, Nate. You’ve known Evelyn since she was in pigtails. Holding hands isn’t a big deal. It’s not like you’re dating anyone."

"Evelyn should save her affection for a boyfriend," Nathaniel said flatly. An image of Isabella flashed in his mind. "And I’ll save mine for the woman I love."

Isabella slid into her Rolls-Royce, the door shutting with a quiet thud.

Achoo!

She sneezed, rubbing her nose. The concert hall’s AC must’ve been too cold.

"Miss Sinclair, should I prepare medicine when we return?" Olivia Bennett fretted, handing her a tissue.

Isabella waved her off. "I’m fine. Probably just someone talking trash about me."

"Running into Nathaniel tonight—ugh. What rotten luck," Olivia grumbled, taking the used tissue.

Isabella’s mood dimmed slightly.

The way Evelyn had clung to him, the way he’d allowed it…

She’d known Evelyn was Harrison’s sister. But she hadn’t realized Nathaniel was so close to her.

A bitter laugh escaped her. Three years of marriage, and she’d barely scratched the surface of that man.

"Disgusting," she muttered.

"Miss?"

"Nothing. Just cleansing my aura after that encounter." She crossed her arms and leaned back, eyes closing.

Her phone buzzed. Sebastian Lockwood’s name flashed on the screen.

"Sebastian?"

"Don’t make plans after work the day after tomorrow. I’ll pick you up from the hotel. We’re going to Skyrim."

"Skyrim? Is Father okay?" Her pulse spiked.

"He’s fine," Sebastian reassured her. "Mr. Jeff is visiting with his sons. Father wants all of us there. They’ve been friends for decades—he won’t tolerate any empty seats at the table."

Isabella exhaled. "Understood."