Chapter 27

"Jesus Christ! Nathaniel, have you completely lost it?!" Preston's eyes widened in shock.

Isabella's face drained of color, her delicate arms hanging limp at her sides, beads of cold sweat glistening on her forehead.

The contrast between Preston and Nathaniel's treatment of her couldn't have been starker - one tender and protective, the other harsh and unfeeling.

Nathaniel seized Isabella's fingers, squeezing them tightly before recoiling as if burned. His lips parted in stunned silence as he took a step back.

"Ms. Sinclair, your shoulder's dislocated. We need to get you to a doctor immediately." Preston's voice trembled with urgency, reaching for Isabella only to have her sidestep him with icy detachment. "I don't need your help."

"You can't possibly reset it yourself!"

"That's none of your concern."

Isabella's entire body vibrated with barely contained fury, her piercing gaze warning them both away. Every inch of her seemed electrified, untouchable.

Preston froze, hands hovering uncertainly.

Nathaniel studied his ex-wife - this trembling, furious woman who bore no resemblance to the placid wife he'd known. The realization struck him like a physical blow: he'd never truly known her at all.

Three years of marriage. Three years of gentle smiles and quiet acquiescence. Back then, her constant attempts to please had only fueled his resentment. The more she smiled, the deeper his disgust grew.

Now divorced, that smiling ghost had vanished. But this raw, furious version of Isabella? She'd never felt more alive.

"Stop deluding yourself, Nathaniel." Isabella drew a shuddering breath, eyes glistening. "Taking this job wasn't about wounding your pride. It was about survival after you discarded me - about building a new life. I can't understand why ending our marriage came so easily to you, yet you can't stand to see me move on. Is it really so impossible for you to let go? Or is it that you simply can't bear to see me thrive without you?"

Nathaniel's jaw tightened, an invisible weight pressing against his windpipe.

Her heart twisted at his silence. Swallowing the pain, she forced a bitter laugh. "Do you need to see me broken? Drowning in grief? Sorry to disappoint, Nathaniel. Those three years were my personal hell. Leaving you wasn't tragedy - it was emancipation. Don't contact me before Grandfather's birthday. I can't stand the sight of you." Turning sharply, she found the ache in her chest far eclipsed the pain in her shoulder. The injury meant nothing - she could've popped the joint back herself. But she needed this physical pain, needed to feel every nerve scream. Only then might the deeper wounds begin to heal.

Suddenly, strong arms encircled her waist. The world tilted as Nathaniel swept her off her feet.

"Put me down!" Isabella's cheeks burned as she thrashed against him.

His grip only tightened, his broad chest becoming an inescapable prison. Pressed against him, she could feel the rapid thud of his heart, could smell that familiar cologne she'd once loved.

The scent nearly undid her. How many nights had she sprayed it on her pillow just to sleep? Now those memories only fueled her resentment.

"We're going to the hospital. This isn't something you can ignore." Nathaniel's expression remained stoic, but his gaze burned. "Let go of me! You couldn't be bothered to touch me during our marriage - you've forfeited any right to do so now!" Her voice cracked with emotion.

Nathaniel marched forward, deaf to her protests.

Preston clicked his tongue, hurrying after them. "Honestly, you two are divorced but still tangled up like this. Let me help Ms. Sinclair—"

"Back off."

"Stay out of this."

They spoke in unison - one voice raw with tears, the other tight with barely restrained emotion.

Preston arched a brow. "Christ, you're still perfectly in sync."

Hospital

The sterile white walls of the clinic swallowed Isabella whole while the two men waited in tense silence outside.

"You could've snapped her arm like a twig, you know." Preston shook his head. "She's half your size."

"How did you find her working there?" Nathaniel's voice was dangerously quiet.

"Pure coincidence. Saw her hauling crates out back like some common laborer." Preston's lips quirked. "Never would've guessed she used to be a CEO's wife. There's something remarkable about a woman who can adapt like that."

Nathaniel's fists clenched. "Your standards must be pathetically low."

"Better than being blind to true worth."

The barb struck home. Nathaniel's vision swam red, his chest constricting.

"Honestly? I thought you two might reconcile," Preston mused.

"Not happening."

"You clearly still care. Why else rush over like your hair was on fire? The way you looked at her—"

"I said drop it."

Preston leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Here's the thing, Nate. If you change your mind about marrying Vanessa, I'll back off. Out of respect. But if you marry her and still hover around Isabella?" His usually playful eyes hardened. "All bets are off."

Nathaniel's jaw worked silently.

"Nathaniel!" The shout echoed down the corridor.

He turned just in time for Preston's fist to connect with his cheekbone.