Chapter 237

Isabella Sinclair lounged lazily on the vintage swing chair in the sun-drenched backyard of the Silveke Harbor estate.

This particular swing had always been her mother's sanctuary—a custom-built gift from her father. Barefoot and carefree, Isabella swayed gently, the afternoon breeze playing with her hair just as it had with her mother's all those years ago.

Her father would often join her mother here, sometimes pushing the swing in comfortable silence, other times simply sitting beside her, their hands intertwined as they watched the world pass by.

After her mother's passing, her father, William, insisted the swing be cleaned daily. As if preserving it might somehow bring her back.

"Miss Isabella, Vanessa has officially pledged her loyalty to us," Olivia Bennett murmured, giving the swing a gentle push. "She's requested the honor of hosting an apology dinner for you."

Isabella took a crisp bite of her apple. "Perfect opportunity for you to brush up on your Italian."

"Always with the jokes." Olivia chuckled, her gaze lingering on Isabella's lips—more tempting than the fruit she was eating.

"In the past, I might've accepted out of politeness," Isabella mused between bites. "But now? As her so-called idol, I can't make it that easy for her."

She swung lightly, the chains creaking. "Miracles lose their magic if they happen too often."

"Exactly." Olivia's voice turned sharp. "After how Vanessa treated you, she deserves to sweat a little. Let her understand the cost of crossing you."

"Not about revenge." Isabella stretched, yawning. "Just exhausted from socializing lately. Besides..." She smirked. "We already got what we needed from her."

Vanessa's earlier betrayal had backfired spectacularly—a self-inflicted wound.

The sudden ring of an unknown number made her hesitate. She answered.

"Hello, is this Natalie Waverley?"

Her breath hitched. That name—unheard for years—sent a jolt through her.

"Yes, this is Natalie."

"Ms. Natalie, this is Sean from Misty Mountain National Park. I'm the new head ranger—Professor Leo's protégé."

Misty Mountain. The name transported her thirteen years back. To the place where she'd first met Alexander Kingsley. Where he'd saved her life.

"Professor Leo's student?" Her voice softened. "Did he retire from rangering?"

"Next month marks his final patrol." Sean's tone grew somber. "The pancreatic cancer... We don't know how much time he has left."

"What? Professor Leo—" Isabella bolted upright, the apple forgotten.

"I understand." Her grip tightened on the phone. "I'll visit him soon."

Hanging up, she sat frozen, unshed tears burning.

"Miss Isabella?" Olivia knelt before her, offering a handkerchief. "Who is Professor Leo? What's wrong?"

"An old friend." The forced smile cracked. "Olivia, contact the top gastroenterologists in New York and Seattle. I need the best for him."

"Consider it done." No further questions. Just unwavering loyalty.

Another call interrupted—her bubbly apprentice, Camille.

"Master!" Camille's shriek could've shattered glass. "You—you deceitful woman! The audacity to hide your identity from me! This is emotional fraud! I'm reporting you!"

"Took you long enough." Isabella dabbed her eyes, laughing wetly. "Maybe I should get a perm to match my villainous persona."

Meanwhile, Arabella Vanderbilt reached her breaking point. After Alexander's public rejection and Harrison's cold dismissal, her carefully crafted "gracious lady" facade crumbled.

Fuming, she stormed toward the Fairhaven mansion, dragging her weeping daughter Genevieve.

"Useless girl!" Arabella's manicured nail jabbed Genevieve's forehead, leaving a red mark. "Riding Acacia's coattails? Pathetic! If not for me, your grandfather would've disowned you after that birthday disaster!"

"Daddy loves me! He'd never—"

The slap echoed. "Respect your elders!" Arabella hissed.

Genevieve recoiled, resentment boiling beneath the tears.

"Running with Edith? That viper's playing you for a fool!" Arabella's voice turned venomous. "At least your sister has potential. You? A stepping stone for Isabella!"

The grand Fairhaven doors swung open under Arabella's wrath. Servants whispered:

"Did the young master compromise Miss Vanderbilt?"

"Pregnant, perhaps?"

"Nonsense! He never brings scandals home."

Genevieve burned with humiliation, silenced by her mother's theatrics. "Where is Mrs. Jareth? I demand justice!" Arabella bellowed.

"Madam is indisposed," the butler attempted.

"Lies! My daughter was framed by your precious Edith! No apology? This is Fairhaven's true colors!"

Mrs. Jareth descended the staircase, Edith beside her. Her calm authority dwarfed Arabella's rage.

"Arabella, this isn't a marketplace. Control yourself."

Genevieve shriveled—her future mother-in-law witnessing this disgrace.

"Don't deflect!" Arabella scoffed. "Your daughter forged Genevieve's signature on counterfeit Alea jewelry receipts! If this is Fairhaven's integrity, I'm disgusted!"