Chapter 31

"Is that so?" Isabella pressed her fingertips to her burning cheek, the heat radiating like a miniature furnace. She quickly turned away, hiding her flustered expression.

"Must be the alcohol. I'm feeling a bit lightheaded already."

"You haven't even reached the wine cellar yet, and you're already blushing?" Nathaniel arched an eyebrow. The sharp-witted businessman who dominated boardrooms now resembled a clueless schoolboy, completely missing the signs of Isabella's infatuation.

"Stop prying." She shot him a playful glare before strutting away.

Nathaniel trailed behind like a chastised puppy, utterly bewildered by her sudden mood swing.

The wine cellar housed nearly a thousand bottles of premium reds - Alexander's personal collection curated specifically for Isabella's palate. Many were auction acquisitions even Reginald Vanderbilt couldn't obtain. The collection's value could purchase three penthouses in Manhattan's most exclusive neighborhood.

Her gaze landed on a coveted bottle of Romanée-Conti. Standing on tiptoes proved futile until Nathaniel's towering frame easily retrieved it. As he leaned in, the vanilla-scented shampoo in her hair triggered his pulse to spike, warmth creeping up his neck.

"Here you go, Ms. Sinclair."

"Having a tall assistant does have its perks. Saves me from climbing shelves."

Though secretly, she imagined someone taller - like Sebastian. The mere thought of that infuriating man made her temples throb.

"Let me open that for you. It must be difficult with one hand—"

CRACK. Isabella smashed her plaster cast against the table corner, revealing flawless skin beneath.

"Finally. That thing was driving me mad."

Nathaniel gaped.

"During my tour, I watched legs get vaporized by IEDs. Soldiers joking at breakfast returned by afternoon missing faces." Her detached tone carried the weight of battlefield horrors, eyes reflecting the calm of someone who'd stared down death. Nathaniel struggled reconciling this with the luxury-loving socialite before him.

The group chat exploded.

Oliver: "Sebastian, I get big bro's busy, but you? A Supreme Court justice slacking? Sebastian's hackers tried breaching our network. Good thing I encrypted everything. Him versus my firewalls? Maybe in another lifetime."

Isabella's almond eyes widened.

Sebastian: "He suspects us?! And since when do you address me so casually? It's 'elder brother' to you."

Oliver: "You exited Mom's womb three minutes earlier. Had I been first, you'd be calling me sir."

Sebastian: "Three minutes or three decades - seniority stands. Say it."

Oliver: "Sebastian."

Sebastian: "Need a reminder who pinned you in every childhood wrestling match?"

Oliver: "Try me now. I'll spot you both arms."

Isabella: "Enough! You're both embarrassing."

Instant silence.

Isabella swirled her merlot thoughtfully. "Sebastian's investigating us. Your interventions protecting me revealed you're not Alexander. He knows."

Her eyes glinted with calculated mischief.

"Time to stop hiding."

Let him have his answers - on her terms.

The press conference at The Regal Palace drew media vultures. Though Stirling Group ranked as a regional player, Victoria's engagement to Sebastian Abernathy catapulted them into the spotlight.

Across the street, Sebastian monitored the livestream from his Maybach, expression glacial.

"Your father's been insistent about supporting Stirling Group," Gordon ventured carefully. "Continuing to oppose him might..."

"Father-son relations require existing bonds to damage." Sebastian's voice could frost glass. "Elspeth's whispers change nothing."

Gordon sighed. The Abernathy heir's isolation was a wound no one acknowledged.

Onstage, Harrison Stirling's righteous indignation made Gordon sneer. "Their defective products hospitalized people last year, yet he's playing victim?"

Sebastian's jaw tightened as Harrison proclaimed Vintage Elegance's impeccable reputation.

A reporter pounced: "The K Group exposed your quality issues. They don't engage in smear campaigns. Care to explain the formaldehyde超标?"

Harrison's complexion darkened. "This isolated incident pains me deeply."

"Incident? Your two-year tenure saw three product recalls and embezzlement allegations. How's that isolated?"

Meanwhile, Isabella watched from her parked Ferrari, crimson lips curling. The reporter was her plant.

"Harrison's squandered the family fortune," Nathaniel scoffed. "Yet he stands there lying through his teeth."

"He's holding an ace." Isabella plucked a chocolate from his pocket, unwrapping it slowly. "Push him further, and he'll play it. That's our opening move."