Chapter 360

Midnight.

Isabella Sinclair emerged from her steaming bath, wrapping herself in a delicate peach silk robe. Her damp hair was tucked neatly into a towel, her cheeks flushed pink from the heat. A soft hum escaped her lips as she descended the stairs.

Despite the chaos that had recently upended her life, she knew better than to despair. She was, after all, a Sinclair. There was nothing she couldn’t conquer—except for one man.

The mere thought of Alexander Kingsley sent a sharp pang through her chest.

She had truly believed he loved her. Somewhere along the way, she had even begun to trust him.

But reality had struck hard.

Men were either faithless or cruel.

And Alexander was no different.

The more she dwelled on it, the tighter her jaw clenched.

"Ms. Sinclair, I made chamomile tea. It’s calming and won’t affect your figure."

Standing in the living room, Nathaniel Whitmore was impeccably dressed in his usual suit and tie, though now adorned with an apron. His warm smile was meant to comfort her.

Seeing him fussing over her like this, Isabella felt an unexpected twinge of guilt. "Nathaniel," she said gently, "you’re my assistant, not my housekeeper. I’ll have Margaret send someone from the estate to handle meals. You’ve done enough today."

"But Ms. Sinclair," Nathaniel protested, suddenly worried his position was in jeopardy, "Mr. Sinclair assigned me to you not just for work, but to ensure your well-being. That’s always been the arrangement."

Isabella shook her head. "I’ve told you before—focus on someone who deserves your attention. Like Seraphina."

At the mention of Seraphina, Nathaniel’s hands clenched.

"You’re already stretched thin working for me. Don’t waste your energy on trivial things. Just treat Seraphina well. That’s all I ask." Isabella’s tone was firm. She cared deeply about her sister’s happiness.

"Ms. Sinclair, Seraphina and I are just friends."

"Nathaniel, any updates from the hospital?" Isabella wasn’t in the mood for explanations. Love was the last thing on her mind.

All she wanted was to make Cassandra Whitmore suffer.

Nathaniel hesitated, pressing his lips together. "According to our sources at the hospital, just as you predicted, Cassandra and Harrison had a massive fight. Harrison hasn’t been back since. Congratulations, Ms. Sinclair—your plan worked perfectly."

"Once doubt takes root, Harrison will never see Cassandra the same way again. Her life in the Vanderbilt family will only get worse."

A cold smirk curled Isabella’s lips. "As long as they’re divided, and we keep pushing Cassandra, she’ll eventually reveal her true nature."

To break someone, you had to drive them to madness.

"One more thing," Nathaniel added. "I looked into Cassandra’s routine as you asked. She visits a cosmetic clinic weekly, where she’s… quite close with a certain plastic surgeon. He’s in his forties. Charming, apparently."

Now that was interesting.

"Got it."

Crossing her arms, Isabella scoffed. "He’s forty and probably not as… energetic as a younger man. For someone like Cassandra, who has… certain appetites, can he really satisfy her?"

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "In my opinion, that doctor might be the one suffering."

"One pays for beauty, the other for pleasure. A fair trade."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Who could that be at this hour?" Nathaniel frowned.

"Nathaniel, answer it. It’s a guest I invited."

A guest? She hadn’t mentioned anything.

Without another word, Nathaniel went to the door.

Standing there was a young woman in her twenties, dressed in a simple tracksuit and a black baseball cap.

"Can I help you?" Nathaniel eyed her warily.

"I—I’m Evelyn. I work for the Vanderbilts. I take care of Ms. Vanderbilt." The girl spoke nervously, glancing around.

Realizing she was one of Arabella’s maids, Nathaniel stepped aside.

"Evelyn, I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up myself. I hope the trip wasn’t too difficult." Isabella hurried over, taking the girl’s cold hands and leading her inside. "You must be freezing. I told you to take a cab—don’t skimp on things like that."

"It’s fine. The bus and light rail were easy." Evelyn’s cheeks were red from the cold.

Once a Vanderbilt lady, now seeing the genuine concern in Isabella’s eyes, Evelyn felt a lump form in her throat.

Thinking of Evelyn walking through the biting wind, Isabella’s chest tightened. She knew the girl was trying to save money.

Nathaniel quickly brought her tea and a hand warmer.

Once settled, Evelyn finally spoke. "Ms. Sinclair, thank you for your kindness—for everything you’ve done for Ms. Vanderbilt."

Her voice was soft but firm. "I saw how you treated her at the Vanderbilts. I’d do anything for you—for her sake."

Isabella studied the girl’s earnest eyes—so much like Arabella’s.

She wasn’t sure if this was right, but she needed someone close to Cassandra.

And aside from Nathaniel, Evelyn was her only option.

Nathaniel pressed his lips together, realizing Isabella’s plan.

"Evelyn, I need you to gain Cassandra’s trust. Stay close to her. If possible, plant a listening device in her room."

Isabella’s gaze darkened. "I want to know her every move."

Evelyn froze, gripping the hand warmer.

"I know it’s dangerous. Cassandra is Arabella’s mother. There’s risk involved."

"I’ll do it."

Evelyn’s eyes burned with resolve. "I’ve seen how Ms. Vanderbilt suffers. To Cassandra, only Genevieve matters. Arabella might as well be a servant. Only when Mr. Harrison or Mr. Alexander are around does she get treated like a lady."

Isabella’s throat tightened.

"I care for Ms. Vanderbilt, but I won’t excuse their cruelty. If not for Mr. Lockwood, I don’t know who else would truly help her."

The memory of Sebastian and Arabella, hands entwined, flashed in Isabella’s mind.

Arabella had found her safe harbor.

Where was hers?

"Ms. Sinclair, you’ve been good to her. I’ll help you, no matter what."

Isabella squeezed Evelyn’s hands. "Thank you. But be careful. If there’s any danger, contact me immediately. The mission can wait—your safety comes first."

Evelyn nodded fiercely.

Since the girl hadn’t eaten, Isabella cooked her a hearty bowl of pasta with meat and eggs, served with pickled vegetables Margaret had made. Simple, but made with care.

Evelyn devoured it, clearly starving.

"Good?" Isabella smiled.

"Yes! It’s amazing!"

Evelyn wiped her mouth. "Ms. Sinclair, you’re an incredible cook! Mr. Kingsley is lucky to have you!"

Isabella’s smile turned wry. "Too bad he doesn’t appreciate it. I’d rather be with someone who does."

Genevieve Vanderbilt had been beaten badly by Sebastian’s men. Too ashamed to face her family, she fled to Switzerland for reconstructive surgery.

Lillian was Sebastian’s girl—she wouldn’t have acted without his approval.

If Genevieve dared to complain, not only would she lose face, but she might provoke Sebastian’s wrath.

Trapped in that filthy cellar, surrounded by rats, enduring those brutal strikes—she never wanted to relive that nightmare.

But she wouldn’t let this go.

Never.

After surgery, Genevieve sneaked back to New York, her face still bandaged. The moment she got into her car, her phone rang.

"Where have you been? Why aren’t you answering?" Victoria Sterling’s imperious voice grated on her nerves.

"Victoria, watch your tone. I’m a Vanderbilt, not your servant!" Genevieve snapped, wincing as her face throbbed.

"Look at you! Last time, you humiliated me in front of Alexander. I haven’t even settled that score, and you dare snap at me?"

Victoria laughed mockingly. "Fine, I’ll forgive you. Tomorrow, I’m sending someone to pick you up. You’re coming with me to try on dresses for my engagement party."

"Engagement? What engagement?"

"My engagement to Alexander, of course!"

"What?!"

Genevieve’s blood ran cold. "Alexander would never agree to marry you unless he’s lost his mind!"

"He hasn’t agreed yet, but he will."

Victoria’s voice dripped with arrogance. "Just wait. He’ll surrender to me, and soon, I’ll be your sister-in-law."