Chapter 35

Isabella Sinclair had no desire to return to the hotel. Home was where she wanted to be.

The silence stretched between them until Jason Prescott couldn’t take it anymore. "Ms. Isabella," he ventured carefully, "does Alexander Kingsley know you're the Ashbourne heiress?"

"Yes," she answered softly, her expression unreadable.

Jason's eyes widened in realization. That explained why she'd sent a stand-in to meet Alexander the first time he came. It all clicked into place.

"Jason, I didn’t mean to keep it from you—"

"I get it."

She blinked at him, surprised.

"Who wants to relive heartbreak? Some things are better buried." His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. "I just worry about you. If Chairman Emeric ever found out how that bastard treated you..." His voice cracked.

This was the princess their family adored, reduced to tears by Alexander Kingsley. If Emeric knew, there’d be hell to pay.

"The longer it stays hidden, the better. One failed marriage was enough. I’m done with love."

Isabella closed her eyes. Alexander’s cruel words echoed in her mind. She let out a dry laugh. "Pathetic, isn’t it?"

"If you’re not marrying, then neither am I," Jason declared.

She shot him a look. "Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my secretary, not a monk. I won’t have people thinking I run a convent."

Jason chuckled weakly, but his heart ached. He knew his place. Still, he’d protect her in silence. "Ms. Isabella… why did you marry him?"

Her lashes lowered, shielding the storm in her eyes.

I shouldn’t have asked.

"When I was eleven," she began, voice steady, "my school organized a mountain hike. I lost my mother’s sapphire pendant up there."

She ignored the warnings, searching alone. The storm hit fast. Trapped, freezing, she nearly died.

"Alexander was a park ranger then. He fought through the hurricane to find me."

She remembered waking to his face—drenched, beautiful, like starlight given form.

"Thank God you're alive! Don’t be scared, I’ve got you."

That moment sealed her fate.

"He carried me down, cracking terrible jokes to keep me awake." A faint smile touched her lips.

"Little girl, what’s your name?"

"Not telling? Fine, I’ll call you Tiny. You’re all small—hands, nose, stubbornness."

"I’m not small! I’ll grow!"

"Tell me, but no one else. Bad boys might take advantage."

Her breath hitched. Seventeen-year-old Alexander hadn’t been as broad as he was now, but he’d shielded her with his life when they nearly fell off a cliff.

Then he vanished.

Three years later, she spotted him on TV with the Kingsleys. That began her pilgrimage toward his light. When he enlisted, she joined Doctors Without Borders—just to stand where he might pass.

Now, thirteen years of devotion had curdled to dust.

Jason listened, stunned.

"But I can’t hate him." She stretched her hand out the window, catching nothing but wind. "Everything I did was my choice. No regrets. Our story’s square."

Alexander Kingsley drove home in a daze. His skull buzzed like a hive. Evadne’s shattered gaze haunted him.

Why did his chest feel hollow?

Alva intercepted him at the study. "Sir, Ms. Victoria’s here."

"Not interested."

She gaped. Since when did he brush Victoria off?

"If she’s here about Ives, save it. The Sterlings are a mess—she should be with her family."

"And if she refuses to leave?"

"Let her rot." He massaged his temples.

Good-for-nothing ex-husband. The insult burned. Since when was he useless?

Alva smirked, delighted, and scurried off.

Alexander frowned. She loathed Victoria.

Outside, Alva folded her arms as Victoria paced.

"Alexander’s done with you. Go home."

"I need to see him!"

Victoria tried shoving past. Alva barely flexed her arm, sending the heiress sprawling.

"You—how dare you! I’ll be Mrs. Kingsley! You’re fired!"

"Try getting the ring first." Alva sniffed. "Only one woman’s ever been worthy of that title, and it’s not you."

Victoria’s face purpled.

"Sue me. Retirement sounds nice anyway."

Alva prayed Alexander would see through this act. Where was the delicate flower now?

"Alexander! Help me!" Victoria wailed like a convict begging for clemency.

No response.

"Keep screaming. The family’s out."

"I’ll wait all night!"

Alva eyed the gathering clouds. "Rain’s coming. Have fun." She marched inside, ordering the staff to bar the gates.

Hours later, drenched and shaking, Victoria knelt in the downpour. "Alexander… please…"

"Only an idiot falls for that," Alva muttered.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Alexander strode past, jaw set, heading for the storm.