Chapter 182

The arrival of Isabella Sinclair at The Regal Palace sent shockwaves through Elmsworth. With the massive promotional campaign from Windsor Estates, every media outlet was buzzing about the global superstar's choice of accommodation.

Lately, The Regal Palace had been drowning in bad press.

Negative publicity might bring attention, but for a luxury establishment like this, it was a disaster they couldn't afford.

For decades, The Regal Palace had been the epitome of excellence, hosting VIPs from politics, business, arts, and sports. Even former President Reginald Blackwood had stayed here during his visits to Elmsworth.

But in the past six months, their reputation had plummeted. Now, the hotel was synonymous with Alexander Kingsley's scandal and Victoria Sterling's cheap antics. Reputation took years to build—and seconds to destroy.

That was why Alexander had pulled out all the stops to secure Isabella's stay—a desperate bid to salvage their image.

He needed this win more than anyone.

Six p.m.

Fans and reporters swarmed outside the hotel, desperate for a glimpse of Isabella.

They even rolled out the red carpet. Extravagant.

"I'm Isabella's biggest fan! I've watched all seven films of The Crimson Reign! Ten years flew by, and now I finally get to see my goddess in person!"

"In Elmsworth, no hotel compares to The Regal Palace! Sure, The Grand Chateau is decent, but it doesn't hold a candle to The Regal Palace in prestige, amenities, or service!"

"Still, their recent controversies leave a bad taste."

"Yet they remain the top choice for the elite. Isabella choosing to stay here is a clear endorsement of The Regal Palace's superiority!"

The bodyguard opened the door of the stretched limousine.

Tonight's star, Isabella, stepped out to deafening cheers.

Isabella, of mixed heritage, had striking chestnut curls and sharp, elegant features. At 5'7", her long legs and poised demeanor made her impossible to miss.

This was her first time in Elmsworth. She hadn't expected such fervent fans, and the warmth put her in high spirits. The usually aloof superstar even flashed a rare smile and waved.

"Isabella! I grew up watching your films!"

"Oh my God, she doesn’t age! She’s flawless!"

Surrounded by her agent and security, Isabella strode inside and took the private elevator to the banquet hall.

Alexander and Nathaniel were waiting. Seeing her, Alexander stepped forward with effortless grace and extended his hand.

"Miss Sinclair, welcome to Elmsworth."

Tonight, Alexander was impeccably dressed, exuding sophistication and power.

His commanding presence matched hers effortlessly.

"Mr. Kingsley." She shook his hand.

"First time in Elmsworth—how do you find it?"

"My mother was from Windhelm, so this city holds sentimental value. It’s my first visit, but I already adore it."

Alexander’s charm and conversational ease put Isabella at ease. They entered the banquet hall, laughing like old friends.

The hall glittered with A-list celebrities.

Isabella’s arrival caused an instant stir. Even the biggest stars couldn’t hide their excitement, rushing to take photos with her.

After all, she was the kind of legend they only saw at the Oscars or Cannes!

Meanwhile, nearly every woman in the room was stealing glances at the devastatingly handsome Alexander Kingsley.

With the former "gatekeeper" Victoria Sterling out of the picture, Elmsworth’s elite socialites and heiresses were vying for his attention. He was the real deal—successful, powerful, and untouchable. The rest were mere pretenders.

Arabella and Lillian, members of the Kingsley family, stood to the side with champagne, relegated to the background. Their forced smiles couldn’t mask their resentment.

"Mother, we’re Kingsleys too. Why are we just extras in Alexander’s show?"

Lillian grumbled, and Arabella’s expression darkened.

As the wife of the Kingsley Group chairman and a former actress, she was accustomed to the spotlight. Being sidelined was unacceptable. So, Arabella plastered on a smile and sashayed toward Alexander and Isabella.

"Miss Sinclair, I’ve heard so much about you. Meeting you is truly an honor."

"Who is this?" Isabella asked Alexander.

"I’m Arabella, wife of the Kingsley Group chairman." She introduced herself with a hint of arrogance.

"Mr. Kingsley, I’m not interested in irrelevant people. Shall we?" Isabella didn’t even glance at Arabella.

Arabella stiffened, realizing Isabella had dismissed her entirely.

Just as she tried to speak again, Alexander chuckled. "We’re in agreement. I don’t introduce insignificant people either."

Arabella stood frozen, humiliated.

Around them, whispers and laughter erupted.

"Wow, Isabella just shut Arabella down! I thought she was just a brilliant actress, but she’s even bolder in person!"

"Laughing so hard right now! Isabella’s an international star—she couldn’t care less about Elmsworth’s petty social climbers!"

"Exactly! Arabella’s power play just backfired spectacularly!"

Arabella’s face twisted with rage, her carefully concealed wrinkles deepening.

But as someone obsessed with appearances, she couldn’t let this slide. Forcing a smile, she retorted, "Miss Sinclair, you must know The Regal Palace and The Grand Chateau are rivals. Your presence here tonight is a clear endorsement of our superiority. As the hostess of the Kingsley Group, I’m deeply honored."

Alexander remained impassive.

Hostess of the Kingsley Group? She really knew how to inflate her own importance.

The atmosphere turned icy.

Nathaniel hurried to translate Arabella’s words to Isabella.

"No, I think you misunderstand." Isabella shook her head. "Both hotels are exceptional. I chose The Regal Palace because Mr. Kingsley impressed me—not because it’s ‘better.’"

Arabella’s cheeks burned as if she’d been slapped.

Isabella might seem arrogant, but she was razor-sharp.

Had she agreed with Arabella’s claim, she’d have alienated The Grand Chateau—a Fortune 500 company—and backed herself into a corner, forcing her to hold her wedding here.

She wasn’t foolish enough to fall for such a transparent trap.

Just as the tension peaked, the banquet hall doors swung open.

Seraphina, draped in a dazzling pink gown, floated in like a fairy, stealing the spotlight.

"Isn’t that the famous pianist Christian’s protégée?"

"She’s not just a pianist—she’s Nathaniel Whitmore’s sister!"

"Wait, Nathaniel’s sister? Does that mean she’s my future sister-in-law?"

"Ugh, if it’s Lillian, I’m out. Just looking at her annoys me."

Lillian sneezed violently.

Seraphina scanned the room eagerly, searching for Nathaniel.

But her hopes were dashed. It seemed fate kept them apart.

Thrilled that all eyes were on her instead of Isabella, Seraphina beamed.

Her real motive for insisting on performing tonight was simple—she wanted Elmsworth’s elite to remember her, not just her brother.

She refused to live in Nathaniel’s shadow.

Lifting her skirt, she glided toward Alexander, her smile radiant.

But Alexander merely watched her, his indifference unsettling.

Then—

Click. Click. Click.

The sharp, decisive sound of heels echoed from the hallway.

Alexander’s breath hitched.

His gaze locked onto the door.

His entire body tensed.