Chapter 313

The birthday celebration was just getting started.

The grand hall buzzed with elite guests, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Isabella's lips curved into a smile as she spotted Alexander and Grandfather Sinclair deep in conversation near the center of the room. "Well, isn't that Mr. Dubois?"

"Indeed! Age seems to only enhance his distinguished presence," a nearby guest remarked.

"It's rare to witness such camaraderie between Mr. Dubois and Chairman Alexander these days. One might mistake them for father and son!"

"Did you hear? Mrs. Vanderbilt is hosting her own birthday gala tonight. Yet Mr. Dubois chose to attend Chairman Alexander's instead. Quite telling, isn't it?" The guests exchanged knowing glances.

"Clearly, Mr. Dubois has no affection for his daughter—I mean, Victoria. After six months of bribery scandals, auction fraud, and that humiliating incident with Mr. Kingsley's niece, who could blame him?"

"I've seen Mr. Kingsley with Chairman Alexander's daughter, Miss Isabella. They make quite the striking pair. Remember how he defended her during that auction debacle? Do you think there's potential there?"

Isabella's brow furrowed at the overheard conversation.

"Unlikely, I'd say."

"Why so?"

"Recall his messy breakup with that Stirling girl? The whole city was talking. Someone as refined as Miss Isabella wouldn't tolerate such baggage."

Isabella gave a subtle nod of agreement.

"Exes are like uninvited guests at a dinner party—you can ignore them until they start making scenes at your table. No matter how much you pretend it doesn't matter, it's still revolting! Mr. Kingsley might be eligible, but Miss Isabella deserves better than damaged goods."

Another firm nod from Isabella.

"Enjoying the show?"

Isabella startled, looking up to find Nathaniel standing beside her, his lips curved in that infuriatingly charming smile, eyes warm with amusement.

"I wasn't eavesdropping!" She turned away sharply, teeth sinking into her lower lip.

Caught red-handed.

"They got most of it right," Nathaniel murmured as he gracefully took the seat beside her, "but missed one crucial detail." His gaze lingered on her flushed cheeks. "I don't just have an ex—I have an ex-wife."

"And you're proud of that, Mr. Kingsley?" Isabella crossed her arms, smirk playing on her lips.

Seeing her irritation, Nathaniel's smile turned rueful. "Isabella, pride is the last thing I feel when it comes to you."

Her expression softened slightly, heartbeat quickening.

"I only feel regret."

His voice grew rough, handsome features darkening. "I regret how I treated you. That our marriage was kept secret. That the world never knew you were my wife."

"If that's the case, spare your regrets, Mr. Kingsley." She turned away, voice icy. "I'm grateful our miserable marriage was never made public."

Miserable marriage.

Nathaniel swallowed hard, the words like knives.

Even after everything, to Isabella, he remained nothing more than a regrettable Chapter she wished to forget.

"It makes moving on easier. I can pretend we were never together."

Isabella blinked, then laughed lightly. "Well, we never really were, were we?"

"Isabella—"

Before he could continue, a cheerful voice interrupted. "Master! Sorry I'm late!"

Isabella turned to see her protégé Camille, face instantly brightening.

"Camille! You made it! I thought you'd be too busy with the gallery opening!"

Camille rushed over, embracing her tightly. "Miss your birthday feast? I'd cancel the exhibition first!"

Then she noticed Nathaniel seated beside Isabella, his imposing presence impossible to ignore.

Her pretty face soured instantly. "Master, you're sitting with him? Doesn't he disgust you?"

Isabella glanced at the man beside her indifferently. "Profoundly."

Nathaniel's heart ached, yet he managed, "Isabella, if my presence offends you, don't look."

Internally, he thought, "But I'm not moving."

"Should I gouge my eyes out then?" Isabella scoffed.

"You could close them," Nathaniel teased, leaning closer, voice dropping to that intimate timbre that always unsettled her.

"And how would I eat?" Ever quick-witted, Isabella walked right into his trap.

"I'd be honored to feed you." His breath warmed her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Isabella tried to scoot her chair away, but Nathaniel—predicting her move—wrapped an arm around her waist, anchoring her in place.

"You—!" Her cheeks burned as she met his warm gaze.

"Isabella, it's just dinner. Don't go." His eyes brimmed with longing.

"Nathaniel."

She wrenched her hand free, fingers digging into his wrist—a gesture of defiance and pain. Her delicate hand barely encircled his muscular wrist, but she squeezed with all her might. "Sitting down to a simple meal with you, like any normal couple, was once my dream. Now? The thought turns my stomach."

Nathaniel released her waist, defeated. "Isabella, I'm sorry."

"It's a celebration, Nathaniel. Don't ruin it with apologies." She waved him off dismissively. "You're here now. Might as well stay."

A small concession, but Nathaniel clung to it.

"Guess who I ran into on the way!" Camille interjected, trying to lighten the mood. "Some arrogant prick nearly ran me over!"

Nathaniel sipped his water, maintaining composure. Camille, the celebrated fashion designer known for her elegance, became remarkably crude around Isabella.

"Do tell," Isabella prompted, intrigued.

Nathaniel nearly choked on his drink.

So much for refined company.

"Right as I arrived. There was a car accident."

Both Isabella and Nathaniel looked shocked.

Who could be so casual about a collision?

"Are you hurt? Why didn't you call? I'd have taken you to the hospital!" Isabella gripped Camille's shoulders anxiously.

"Just a stiff neck. Nothing serious." Camille warmed at Isabella's concern.

"You should get checked regardless. Some injuries manifest later." Nathaniel spoke up unexpectedly. "After the celebration, I'll arrange for a specialist to examine you, regardless of the hour."

Camille blinked, surprised by the offer from this "filthy man."

"No need." Isabella pulled Camille close protectively. "I'm a surgeon. I'll handle my apprentice. Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Kingsley."

Nathaniel's lips twisted wryly.

Once again, his concern was discarded.

"This jerk in a luxury car nearly hits me, then has the audacity to hand me his credit card and tell me to buy a new car!" Camille fumed. "The nerve!"

The memory fueled her anger. "Master, is he implying I'm some gold-digger? As if I've never seen money before! Who does he think he is?"

"What happened next?" Isabella leaned in, fascinated.

"I threw my bank card in his face and said I had enough to keep him!"

Nathaniel listened quietly, amused.

"Priceless," Isabella smirked. "I'd have thought you two would get along. Both equally lacking in manners."

In Camille's mind, Sebastian's handsome features flashed—sharp eyes, flawless complexion, the effortless grace of his movements.

She swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.

"As if I'd ever associate with such a man!"

Just then, her eyes widened as she spotted someone approaching. "You! What are you doing here?"

Isabella and Nathaniel turned to see a strikingly handsome man walking toward them.

"The audacity," Camille muttered. "Why are you here?"

"Me? I should be asking you that," the man replied coolly.

"Camille, you know him?" Isabella asked, surprised.

"He's the bastard who almost killed me with his car!"

Isabella's eyes gleamed with sudden understanding. She stood, approaching the man and looping an arm around his neck familiarly.

"Camille, allow me to reintroduce my brother, Sebastian Sinclair—Elmsworth's top prosecutor."