Chapter 457

The three others stood frozen in shock.

"Alexander, it's been twenty years—where could you possibly find evidence now?" Isabella Sinclair gripped the man's hand tightly.

Alexander Kingsley intertwined his fingers with hers, his voice rough with emotion. "Remember when I told you I tracked down that maid who used to work for my mother?"

The woman nodded obediently.

"People often sense disaster before it strikes. Before Eleanor met her end, the maid seemed to sense danger. Dominic sent someone to intercept her in time, and... I had to take certain measures."

Alexander took a deep breath before continuing. "In sheer panic, to save her son, she revealed truths—things not even mentioned in that recording. The real truth."

He was inherently kind-hearted. If it hadn't been absolutely necessary, he would never have used a child's life as leverage, resorting to threats like a merciless monster.

Isabella knew that even if the maid had refused to talk, Alexander wouldn’t have harmed her son. He couldn’t. If he had, how would he be any different from Nathaniel?

"My mother was murdered by Eleanor. She poisoned her with her own hands," Alexander's eyes burned red, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. His hand, clutched in Isabella's, was ice-cold.

"Poisoned her herself?!" Preston and Sebastian were so stunned their faces went rigid.

Dominic staggered as if struck by a heavy blow. Isabella's throat tightened, the air suddenly thin, her chest crushed beneath an invisible weight.

Anyone else would have lost their mind, but because Alexander hadn't, his eerie calm only made her heart ache more.

"Mr. Kingsley, what exactly happened back then?" Sebastian pressed urgently.

"The maid confessed that she had indeed followed Eleanor’s orders to switch my mother’s depression medication, but she replaced it with harmless vitamins—nothing fatal. However, during that time, Eleanor must have sensed my mother and Reginald’s relationship improving. Fearing exposure, she swapped the harmless pills for poison. Taken daily in small doses, it would accumulate and cause sudden cardiac arrest."

Alexander’s broad shoulders trembled as he spoke, each word laced with ice and hatred.

Tears welled in Isabella’s eyes as she gently stroked his back.

"How did the maid know all this?" Preston, ever the prosecutor, demanded.

"She saw it."

Alexander tightened his grip on Isabella’s hand, as if only her touch could keep him grounded. "She said that two days before my mother’s fall, she realized Eleanor would sneak back in to switch the pills again—without ever mentioning it to her. She didn’t dare ask."

"That’s because if your mother had died of heart failure, the maid handling her medication would have been the prime suspect," Isabella reasoned coldly. "By then, it wouldn’t matter what she said—she’d be the one taking the fall."

"She knew that. But she was already in too deep. There was no turning back." Alexander’s face paled further. "But on the day it happened, there was an unexpected twist. My mother, who had been walking in the garden, went back to her room to retrieve her forgotten camera."

"And she caught Eleanor in the act?" Isabella’s heart plummeted.

He nodded grimly. "The maid, hiding just outside the room, eavesdropped. She’d been on edge for days, unable to sleep."

"Hmph! She can catch up on all that lost sleep behind bars!" Sebastian snarled through clenched teeth.

"The maid said she couldn’t see inside, but she heard a heated argument between my mother and Eleanor. She mentioned that ever since my mother married into the Kingsley family, she’d seemed devoid of emotion. That was the first time she’d ever seen her so enraged—it terrified her."

"And then?" Isabella watched him intently.

"Then, there was sudden silence in the room. And right after that... I witnessed—"

Alexander couldn’t finish. His chest heaved, his eyes bloodshot, nostrils flaring with each ragged breath. His hand, slick with sweat and clasped in Isabella’s, shook uncontrollably.

Before him flashed the haunting image of his mother’s lifeless body hitting the ground. The sound—muffled, heavy—was something he could never forget. The sickening crack of bones shattering.

He’d only looked once, but the pain of that moment would haunt him forever.

"Stop, Alexander. Please, stop."

Isabella pulled him into a fierce embrace, wishing she could fuse their hearts together. He hadn’t shed a tear, but hers fell freely, soaking his white shirt.

"It’s okay. Despite everything, I haven’t lost myself to the hatred. I haven’t broken."

Alexander’s eyes softened as he wiped her tears away with his rough fingertips. "Most importantly, you’re here, Isabella. You don’t know how much you mean to me. You’ve given me strength I didn’t know I had. Without you, I might have drowned in despair."

In that moment, Preston and Sebastian understood. As Reginald had said—Isabella was Alexander’s lifeline.

Once the couple had steadied themselves, Sebastian frowned. "The maid heard the argument stop right before you heard your mother fall. Could that be indirect proof that Eleanor was involved? She was the only one in that room."

"You mentioned earlier that your mother and Mr. Kingsley had been reconciling. And she was furious when she found out Eleanor had tampered with her medication. That doesn’t sound like someone planning to end her own life," Preston added.

"Without concrete evidence, we can only speculate. But it’s highly likely Eleanor pushed her."

"The maid said after my mother fell, Eleanor rushed out in a panic, bumping into her. She threatened the maid into silence, paying her off to disappear forever." Alexander wrapped an arm around Isabella, drawing comfort from her presence.

"She’s a key witness—you must protect her at all costs," Sebastian warned.

"First, we nail Eleanor on the drug charges. Keep her detained. Then, gather more evidence to prosecute her for murder." Preston’s eyes burned with fury.

Now Isabella understood why Alexander hadn’t arrested Eleanor for lesser crimes. He only had one shot—and it had to count.

"Alexander, you mentioned physical evidence?" Isabella’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.

The man’s gaze darkened, his hand sliding possessively around her waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Later. Behind closed doors, I’ll tell you everything."

Meanwhile, The Velvet Haven was a scene of carnage.

Harvey and Elsie stood at the basement door, listening to the blood-curdling screams within. Harvey felt sick to his stomach, but Elsie remained eerily composed.

"You’re something else—not even flinching. The only other woman I’ve seen with nerves like yours is Ms. Sinclair."

Elsie’s lips curled coldly. "It’s bad enough I resemble Isabella. Must I also lack my own personality?"

"Relax, I didn’t mean anything by it." Before Harvey could finish, the basement door swung open.

Nathaniel emerged, his white silk shirt splattered with blood, his face, neck, and throat streaked crimson. He breathed heavily, sweat mingling with blood as it dripped down his chiseled features. His eyes burned with vengeful satisfaction—like a demon who had feasted on suffering.

"Mr. Chambers," Harvey and Elsie bowed in unison.

Nathaniel tossed the bloodied whip aside, removed his gold-rimmed glasses, and wiped the lenses with his shirt.

Back in Helgen, whenever stressed, he’d hunt in the mountains. Elmsworth offered no such luxury—so he’d taken to beating people instead. He found it far more entertaining. A habit he intended to keep.

The two followed him silently, but Harvey noticed Nathaniel’s bleeding hand. He nudged Elsie.

"Ms. Archer, Mr. Chambers is hurt. Tend to his wound!"

Elsie hesitated before approaching. "Mr. Chambers, your hand—let me help—ah!"

In a flash, Nathaniel seized her wrist with brutal force, dragging her into the room. The door slammed shut, leaving Harvey outside, his stomach twisting with unease.

Inside, Nathaniel’s hunger manifested in a savage kiss, his hands tearing her blouse to shreds. As they reached the bed, Elsie—now in only her undergarments—covered herself, trembling. "No... please, Mr. Chambers."

"Elsie, you dare refuse me?" Nathaniel pinned her down, his gaze burning into her face—so eerily similar to Isabella’s. "Isabella can reject me. But you? What right do you have?"

With that, he struck her.

The blow sent Elsie reeling, her cheek swelling, ears ringing. In nearly a decade by his side, he’d never once raised a hand to her.

That slap shattered the last of her illusions.

The man she’d once known—kind, gentle, perfect—was gone. She barely recognized him now.

Nathaniel froze, lips parting—but before he could speak, his phone rang. He stepped away, retrieving it from his pocket.

The name on the screen made his brow furrow.

"Why are you calling now?"

"If I didn’t, how would you handle your current mess?" The voice on the other end was teasing, light.

Nathaniel turned away, but Elsie could still hear the caller’s voice—melodic, smooth, unforgettable.

"Even you know about it," Nathaniel’s tone was uncharacteristically respectful.

"Of course. The Sinclair heiress is quite the force, isn’t she? Beautiful, temperamental—never resting until she stirs up a storm. I rather like her."

Nathaniel’s jaw clenched, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

"But don’t worry. I’m a gentleman—I don’t poach another man’s desires. I won’t compete for the woman you love."

The man’s voice dripped with mockery. "Not only will I not compete—I’ll help you win Ms. Sinclair."