Chapter 373

The Abernathy Hotel glittered once more with the elite gathering of Elmsworth's most powerful figures. After a marathon of business negotiations, the city's tycoons and socialites converged here to continue their networking over cocktails.

Behind the wheel of her sleek black Bugatti, Isabella Sinclair sped through the city streets with Nathaniel Whitmore gripping the passenger door, his knuckles white. He stared rigidly ahead, afraid that opening his mouth might result in last night's dinner making an unwelcome reappearance.

When they finally reached the hotel, Isabella executed a perfect drift into the parking spot, the tires screeching to a halt.

"Out," she commanded, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Nathaniel remained frozen, his face as pale as the moon.

Isabella blinked her almond-shaped eyes, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hey, earth to Nate. You alive in there?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," Nathaniel managed, his complexion taking on a distinctly greenish hue.

Isabella yelped and shoved the door open, pushing him out. "If you're going to puke, do it outside! Not in my car!"

The moment his feet hit the pavement, Nathaniel doubled over, emptying his stomach in the most undignified manner imaginable.

For a man of his refined upbringing, it was a first.

Thankfully, Sebastian wasn't around to witness it—otherwise, Nathaniel might have wished for the ground to swallow him whole.

Once he'd finished, Nathaniel weakly leaned against the car door, panting as he glared at Isabella. "Are all you Sinclairs insane? Driving like you're in a damn Formula One race!"

"You're a grown man getting carsick?" Isabella crossed her arms, shaking her head in disbelief. "My driving is smoother than silk. If you can't handle it, that's a you problem."

She tossed him a bottle of water, showing a shred of mercy.

Nathaniel rinsed his mouth, slowly regaining his composure.

"Don't forget our deal," Isabella reminded him, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

"I remember," Nathaniel muttered.

"You fix Adrian, and I introduce you to Dr. Sinclair. My word is gold."

If only Nathaniel knew that the woman currently tormenting him was the very Dr. Sinclair he idolized, he might have had a few choice words—and possibly a minor existential crisis.

Just then, a sleek black Bentley glided past them.

Isabella's eyes narrowed at the vaguely familiar license plate.

The Bentley parked nearby, and the driver stepped out to open the door.

Out stepped two people Isabella knew all too well—her scheming uncle, William Sinclair, and his equally conniving daughter, Arabella Sinclair.

"Dad, how do I look tonight?" Arabella asked eagerly, twirling in her one-shoulder pink evening gown, her silver diamond-encrusted clutch glinting under the lights. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, giving her the appearance of a wealthy heiress.

But Isabella could spot a knockoff from a mile away.

That designer would never lend an original to someone like Arabella, who lacked both social clout and commercial appeal. It would be brand suicide.

"Stunning! You'll be the belle of the ball tonight!" William gushed, showering his daughter with praise.

Arabella preened, already basking in imaginary admiration.

"Being the center of attention doesn't matter," she simpered. "What matters is whether Mr. Kingsley notices me."

Isabella's eyebrows shot up at that.

Nathaniel, meanwhile, felt his nausea returning at Arabella's theatrics.

"Just be yourself, sweetheart. Show him your best qualities, and he'll fall for you in no time," William encouraged, then couldn't resist adding with a sneer, "You're already miles better than that wild child, Isabella. You just need the right opportunity. Isabella and Mr. Kingsley were never a good match—no wonder they divorced."

Isabella listened impassively, her expression unreadable.

Nathaniel gaped as William and Arabella strutted away.

"Adrian is your ex-husband?" he blurted.

"Yep. Not exactly a state secret," Isabella replied flatly.

"Well, you're certainly the most... interesting ex-wife I've ever met," Nathaniel teased. "Most divorced couples want to strangle each other, but here you are, going out of your way to cure your ex's illness. Old flames still burning, or does he have dirt on you?"

"I just want a clear conscience. Let's go." Isabella turned on her heel and strode toward the hotel.

Nathaniel watched her retreating figure—strong, icy, and radiating an aura that could cut through steel. For a woman in her early twenties, she carried herself like a force of nature.

He couldn't help but grin. "Isabella Sinclair, you just keep getting more fascinating."

William had stopped to schmooze with some acquaintances, leaving Arabella to enter the banquet hall alone.

She sauntered up to the entrance with an air of entitlement, presenting her invitation to the staff.

"Miss Sinclair, please come in."

"Thank you."

As Arabella flipped her hair and prepared to make her grand entrance, the sharp click of heels behind her made her turn.

Her face fell.

Isabella and Nathaniel were walking toward the banquet hall side by side.

Arabella's jaw clenched. Why was this witch here? There had been no warning!

And who was that ridiculously handsome man beside her? A new fling?

"Cousin! What a surprise to see you here!" Arabella's expression instantly morphed into fake warmth.

Nathaniel scoffed. Had he not witnessed their earlier exchange in the parking lot, he might have believed they were close.

This was exactly why he avoided high society—too much hypocrisy.

"What's so surprising? You're here. Why wouldn't I be?" Isabella didn't even glance at her, her red lips curling into a smirk.

"Well, you've always been so... reclusive, cousin. You never attend these events."

"Get used to it." Isabella's gaze sharpened. "From now on, I'll be making regular appearances. We'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

Arabella forced a smile while internally seething.

"Miss, may I see your invitation?" a staff member asked Isabella politely.

"I don't have one," Isabella admitted breezily.

Arabella couldn't suppress a giggle. "Oh cousin, have you been away from society so long you forgot you need an invitation? You're embarrassing yourself."

The staff looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, miss, but without an invitation, you can't enter."

"I'm Isabella Sinclair," she said simply.

The name hit like a thunderbolt. The staff members froze.

In the past, Isabella might have said, "My father is William." But now, her name alone carried weight.

"Ms. Sinclair! Our apologies!" they stammered.

"No need. I had last-minute business with Mr. Kingsley. My oversight." Isabella smiled graciously. "Since I don't have an invitation, I understand if I can't enter. Could you inform him I'm here?"

"No need! Ms. Sinclair, please come in!" The staff fell over themselves to accommodate her.

"Thank you. This is Mr. Whitmore, my guest. May we enter together?"

"Of course! Right this way!"

Isabella and Nathaniel were ushered in with deference.

Arabella was left standing alone, her face burning with humiliation.

It was always like this. No matter what she did, Isabella stole the spotlight the moment she appeared.

Meanwhile, Adrian Kingsley and Lucas Grant were approaching the banquet hall.

"How's Seraphina settling in at your place?" Adrian asked, his tone neutral but concern flickering beneath.

"She's doing well. Planning to take her on vacation after wrapping up some business." Lucas's eyes softened at the mention of Seraphina. "Found a psychologist to help with her autism and trauma."

"Trauma? What trauma?" Adrian stopped walking.

"Not sure. Lillian mentioned it. Probably from that witch Glynnis. But don't worry—I made sure she won't bother Seraphina again." Lucas's smile turned icy. "If she tries, I'll pluck her bald."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "You did something to Glynnis?"

"Just curious."

"Just disfigured her a bit." Lucas grinned, recalling Glynnis's wails in the warehouse.

"That explains why she's been hiding lately." Adrian mused, then fixed Lucas with a stern look. "Seraphina's been with you a while. You haven't... overstepped, have you?"

Lucas's mind flashed to their intimate moment in the bathroom last night, heat rising to his face.

Before he could stammer a reply, Gordon rushed over.

"Mr. Kingsley! Ms. Sinclair is here!"

Lucas's eyes widened. Adrian seemed momentarily dazed. "Who?"

"Ms. Sinclair! Isabella! She's in the banquet hall now!" Gordon couldn't hide his excitement.

He'd missed Mrs. Kingsley. Whether Adrian admitted it or not, he clearly did too.

"Isabella came to see you? Finally!" Lucas clapped Adrian on the back.

"Half of Elmsworth's elite are here tonight." Adrian suppressed the flutter in his chest. "She's probably just networking. She'll inherit Sinclair Holdings someday."

"You're impossible." Lucas groaned, then asked Gordon, "Did she come alone? Or with Sebastian?"

"Neither. She's with a man," Gordon said.

"Please don't say it's that Chambers bastard," Lucas growled, thinking of Alexander.

"No. Exceptionally handsome—almost pretty." Gordon had only glimpsed Nathaniel from afar, but his beauty was undeniable.

Adrian's expression darkened.

Not her brothers. Not Alexander. Someone new.

He'd thought he'd moved on, but anything concerning Isabella still pulled at him.

Adrian quickened his pace toward the banquet hall.

The moment he entered, his eyes locked onto Isabella, radiant as ever in the crowd.

She wore a tailored black suit, her red lips a sinful contrast against her porcelain skin. Just seeing her made his carefully constructed walls tremble.

Lucas discreetly retreated, avoiding third-wheeling.

Once, he'd loved making grand entrances. Now, with Seraphina in his life, he avoided crowds—especially those with women. His heart belonged to one.

Isabella sensed Adrian's presence before she saw him.

To her, he was like a flame in the dark—impossible to ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

Infuriating.

When would this man stop haunting her?

The room buzzed with chatter and clinking glasses.