Chapter 447

An hour earlier, Isabella had discreetly pulled Preston aside—one of Harrison's most loyal aides—into a shadowed alcove, their heads bent in hushed conspiracy.

"Preston, you've served our family since my grandfather's time. You're practically part of the Sinclair legacy." Isabella's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her expression the picture of vulnerability.

"Of course, Miss Sinclair. I watched you grow up. My loyalty to the Sinclair family is absolute." Preston's voice was steady, but concern etched deep lines into his weathered face. "Tell me, what troubles you? You look unwell."

Isabella spun a web of deceit, painting herself as the victim of Arabella's ruthless schemes. "And now," she choked out between sobs, "she's trying to steal my fiancé!"

Her cries were heartrending. "Nathaniel and I were about to announce our engagement. Then Arabella swooped in and took him from me. If I don't secure this marriage, I'll be the laughingstock of all New York! How can I ever show my face again? I might as well—"

"Don't say it, Miss Sinclair!" Preston, who had no children of his own, saw Isabella and her brother as his own flesh and blood. His anger flared at the injustice. "Arabella is vile! To think she'd target the man you love. She has no shame!"

"Is there... anything we can do to ensure she loses?" Isabella's tears masked the venom in her voice. "She must fail in this equestrian contest. She can't be allowed to win the project for Sinclair Holdings—or keep Nathaniel."

She knew Preston was sharp and unafraid of dirty tactics. He would grasp the unspoken implication.

But she couldn't risk saying it outright. Some schemes were best left unsaid, lest they become weapons against her. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

Preston paced before stopping abruptly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "To guarantee her loss, we'll need to sabotage her horse."

"How?"

"Racehorses run on pure instinct. Once they're in motion, they won't stop—even if injured—until they collapse." A grim smile twisted his lips. "I have an idea. If luck isn't on her side, Arabella might not walk away from this race."

The final stretch of the race had arrived.

Only three contenders remained: Sinclair Holdings, Vanderbilt Group, and Kingsley Enterprises.

The Chambers Group's horse, Tempest, had already fallen hopelessly behind, sealing their defeat.

"Damn it!" Harrison slammed his fist against the railing, his chance at a partnership with J Group slipping through his fingers. "I treated that horse like royalty, and this is how it repays me? From now on, you're nothing but 'Mudpie' to me!"

The crowd snickered at his outburst.

"Mr. Sinclair's Wind is truly exceptional," Adrian remarked, seizing the moment to ingratiate himself. "Arabella claimed Tempest was in the same league, but the difference is night and day. Father, we should consult Mr. Sinclair on selecting racehorses. Next time, we'll surpass them."

His flattery was shameless, but Harrison didn’t mind—the timing was perfect.

William smiled warmly at Adrian. "Your father has never taken my advice in his life. I'll eat my hat if he starts now. But it's not just Wind's talent—Arabella's skill as a rider is unmatched."

"Arabella is truly perfect," Adrian murmured, his gaze lingering on the striking figure galloping down the track.

"That bastard's bootlicking makes me sick!" Sebastian clenched his fists, watching Adrian butter up William. "Hey, if you don’t step up, she’ll be snatched away! Get in there and sweet-talk them!"

"I'm not good at that," Nathaniel muttered, his heart racing as he watched Arabella, his focus entirely on her.

"You can learn! Take me as your mentor. I'll teach you everything!" Sebastian nudged him with a grin.

"Sebastian, something feels off," Nathaniel said, loosening his tie, an inexplicable dread settling in his chest.

"Same. Watching that sycophant makes me want to puke," Sebastian gagged theatrically.

"No. I think something bad is about to happen."

Nathaniel's eyes darkened with unease. Whether it was intuition or fear, he couldn’t shake the oppressive weight pressing down on him.

Arabella, win or lose—just come back to me safely. That’s all that matters.

"Adrian is cozying up to the Sinclairs. William seems taken with him," Margaret whispered to Lawrence, her face tight with worry. "What if William actually considers giving Arabella to Adrian? If that snake marries into the Sinclair family, he’ll have their backing to seize control of Chambers Group! With me married off and Nathaniel sidelined, you’ll have no support. Vanderbilt Group could threaten your position as CEO!"

"Enough," Lawrence cut in, his voice icy. "Worrying now is pointless. Arabella isn’t some obedient puppet. She married into the Abernathy family behind William’s back—you really think she’ll bend to her parents’ whims?"

"Still—"

"And honestly," Lawrence continued, a dark smirk curling his lips, "I’d love to see William try to force her into marrying Adrian. The chaos would be spectacular."

Arabella’s brow glistened with sweat as she urged Wind forward, her speed breathtaking.

"Wind! Go, boy!"

The stallion surged ahead like a tempest, leaving Dragon far behind in seconds.

The rival jockey whipped his horse mercilessly, his glare venomous as Arabella pulled ahead.

Her jaw tightened, her competitive fire blazing. Then—Wind faltered. His breathing turned ragged.

Arabella’s stomach dropped. Something was wrong with his legs.

"Wind! Stop! Don’t run!" She yanked the reins hard.

The race didn’t matter—she wouldn’t let Wind get hurt.

But the usually obedient stallion ignored her, lost in the frenzy of the race, his will to win overpowering even her commands.

"Wind! I said stop!" She strained against him, but it was useless.

The finish line loomed. The crowd held its breath. Even William and his son leaned forward, anticipation etched on their faces.

"Something’s not right!" Nathaniel’s pupils contracted. Whether it was instinct or the panic on Arabella’s face, he knew—he knew. He dropped his binoculars and sprinted toward the track.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Sebastian shouted, torn between following and staying with Lillian.

Adrian’s eyes darkened. "Harvey, find out what’s happening."

Only meters remained. Sinclair Holdings was inches from victory.

Harrison trembled with excitement. Lawrence had already approached William, hand outstretched for congratulations.

Then—

A thunderous roar erupted from the crowd.

"Number five crosses first! Congratulations to K Group—Arabella Sinclair takes the win!"

William and the Sinclairs erupted into cheers.

"Arabella! You’re incredible!" Even the usually reserved Eleanor screamed in joy. Oliver clapped until his palms burned.

Harrison’s face went slack, his dreams crumbling. Lawrence, mid-handshake, looked like a fool.

"I suppose this is unnecessary now?" William arched a brow, arms crossed.

Lawrence could only offer a defeated smile, retreating in humiliation.

Then—gasps of horror.

"Oh my God! Arabella and her horse—they’ve fallen!" Isabella shot to her feet, pointing at the track, her eyes alight with triumph.

Dust billowed as Wind collapsed, sliding before crashing to the ground with a pained whinny. Arabella was thrown, slamming through a barrier.

"Arabella!"

The Sinclairs froze in terror. William nearly fainted, steadied only by Eleanor. Oliver and Mr. Bennett were the first to reach Arabella.

"Arabella, Arabella!" Lillian covered her mouth, tears streaming.

"Don’t cry, Lillian! She’ll be okay!" Sebastian pulled his wife close, comforting her even as his sharp gaze locked onto Isabella’s smug smirk.

Something wasn’t right.

Arabella’s fall had been sudden, yet Isabella had been the first to notice—as if she’d expected it.

Arabella’s back screamed in agony, the metal barrier digging into her waist. She gasped for air, the world spinning.

Faintly, she heard running footsteps, a desperate voice calling her name.

Was it the medics? Her father? Her brothers?

"Arabella!"

Then—strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a familiar embrace. The scent of him cleared the fog in her mind.

She looked up slowly, meeting Nathaniel’s bloodshot eyes, filled with tears.

A weak smile curved her lips.

"Hey... it’s you."