Chapter 479

The world spun violently as Isabella Sinclair collapsed to her knees, her vision exploding with white-hot stars. The coppery tang of blood flooded her mouth, her ears ringing with a deafening, high-pitched scream. Pain radiated through her skull, her entire body convulsing as she curled in on herself, teeth bared in silent agony.

Dignity? Poise? Gone.

All that remained was raw, unfiltered suffering.

"Ah—God! My ear!" she shrieked, clawing at the side of her head. "It's—it's killing me!"

Two brutal strikes to her right cheek had left her ear ringing, the pain so sharp it stole her breath. She writhed on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Isabella! My poor girl!"

Nathaniel Prescott's weathered face twisted in horror as he rushed to her side, his cane clattering to the floor. His bony hands trembled as he tried to pull her up, but she was limp, broken.

"Grandfather," she sobbed, her voice barely audible, "I can't—I can't hear anything. My ear—it's bleeding!"

Nathaniel's face drained of color. "What did you say?!"

But even his booming voice, inches from her, sounded like a whisper. Isabella's fingers came away from her ear slick with crimson. The sight sent her into hysterics. "I'm deaf! I'm going deaf!"

Chaos erupted. Bodyguards shouted for doctors. Secretaries scrambled for phones. The scene was pure pandemonium—like a bomb had gone off in the middle of the gala.

Alexander Kingsley watched the Sinclair family's meltdown with icy detachment, as if an invisible barrier separated him from their theatrics.

Once, he had been proud to bear the Sinclair name.

Now, it was a stain.

"Alexander!" Nathaniel roared, his face purpling with rage. "Have you lost your damn mind?! Isabella is your sister! Your parents' only daughter! How could you strike her like that?!"

A slow, chilling smile curled Alexander's lips. "As the eldest son, I am the acting head of this family in our father's absence. Do you find fault in my discipline?"

Gasps rippled through the crowd. The audacity. The sheer, unapologetic arrogance.

"You ungrateful wretch!" Nathaniel sputtered, veins bulging in his temples. "I am the patriarch of this family! How dare you raise your hand against your own flesh and blood in front of me? Have you no respect?!"

"Of course I do."

Alexander's eyes burned with a terrifying, blood-red intensity. "It's out of respect for you that I only slapped her insolent mouth. Otherwise, I might have killed her."

Silence.

Cassius Lockwood stared at Alexander, stunned. He'd always dismissed him as a reckless playboy, a man who coasted on charm and privilege. But this? This was loyalty. This was sacrifice.

And it humbled him.

Isabella trembled violently, burying her face in Nathaniel's chest.

Nathaniel was speechless, choking on his own fury.

"Alexander," Frederic Abernathy interjected smoothly, though his jaw was clenched tight. "Ms. Sinclair is still your sister. Such harsh words reflect poorly on you—and wound your family. There are no winners here."

He had expected this to go differently. Expected Alexander to stay out of it. But now, the bastard had flipped the script entirely.

The crowd's murmurs grew louder, their judgmental stares shifting to Frederic.

"Are you suggesting," Alexander drawled, tilting his head, "that Isabella bears no responsibility for exposing Ms. Ashbourne's private suffering in front of all these people? For ripping open her wounds just to satisfy her petty revenge?"

His words were a blade, stripping Isabella of her last shred of dignity.

And they cut deeper into Evelyn Ashbourne's already bleeding heart. She clenched her jaw, tears slipping free despite her best efforts. Each one was a dagger to Thaddeus Abernathy's soul.

Evelyn. Evelyn.

He ached to go to her. To pull her into his arms and kiss away her pain.

But did he even have the right anymore?

"Alexander," Frederic snapped, struggling to maintain his composure, "are you insulting me?"

"You're speaking in riddles. I'm a simple man—I take things at face value." Alexander shrugged, lazily cleaning his ear. "And for the record? I'm acquainted with your son, not you. So in the future, call me Mr. Kingsley. It suits me better."

Frederic's face darkened like he'd swallowed something rancid.

The crowd tittered.

"Isabella's pulling every dirty trick in the book to stop Evelyn from marrying Thaddeus," someone muttered.

"Disgusting. Parading someone's medical records like tabloid fodder? That's sacred, private stuff—for any woman, let alone someone like Evelyn Ashbourne."

"She's just jealous. If she can't have Thaddeus, no one can."

"That woman? A walking disaster. Even a stray dog would think twice."

"And Frederic's still pushing for her? What, is the Abernathy family a dumpster now?"

Frederic's ears burned. He'd miscalculated. Badly.

"Grandfather," Isabella whimpered, clutching her ear. "It—it hurts so much. I can't—I can't hear properly. Take me to the hospital, please!"

"Move!" Nathaniel barked. "Get her to a doctor—now!"

But before anyone could take a step, Cassius's voice cut through the room like a whip.

"Nobody moves."

The Sinclairs froze.

Isabella's blood ran cold.

Cassius strode forward, his expression glacial as he gently pried Emeric Ashbourne's grip from Evelyn's wrist. "Father," he said quietly, "losing your temper only plays into their hands. And you're hurting Evelyn."

Emeric blinked, finally noticing the angry red marks on his daughter's skin. His face crumpled.

"Cassius," Evelyn whispered, leaning into him. "I'm sorry."

Cassius pulled her close, his heart breaking. "Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong."

Evelyn let out a bitter laugh.

How naive she'd been.

She thought hiding her pain would protect them.

But the truth always found a way out.

Cassius tightened his hold on her, his gaze flicking to Thaddeus's ashen face before dismissing him entirely. "I've mobilized all Ashbourne security. Until this is resolved, no Sinclair leaves this room."

That look shattered Thaddeus's last hope.

He didn't deserve her.

He never had.

The guests buzzed with excitement, eager for the drama. Only Nathaniel was furious, jabbing a finger at Cassius. "This is unlawful detention! I'll sue you!"

"Sue me," Cassius shot back. "But Isabella illegally obtained and publicly disseminated my sister's private medical records. The Ashbourne Group will countersue for invasion of privacy and defamation."

Just then, Jason Lockwood strode in, his suit immaculate, his injured eye hidden beneath a discreet bandage. He'd rushed here the moment he heard, refusing to let Evelyn face this alone.

Behind him, Nydia followed, her expression steely.

"Jason," Evelyn choked out.

"Tsk, tsk." Another voice joined the fray—Chasel, sauntering up beside Jason, his lips curled in disdain. "Who knew the Sinclair heiress was so legally illiterate? Or just plain stupid."

Cassius arched a brow, amused despite himself.

Chasel smirked. "You thought you had the upper hand, but all you did was dig your own grave. Exposing someone's private trauma? That's not strategy. That's self-destruction."

Emeric blinked, surprised by Chasel's presence—and his sharp tongue.

"You think the Sinclairs are pushovers?!" Nathaniel roared, slamming his cane down. "Call security! We're leaving—now!"

"Grandfather," Alexander sighed, feigning boredom. "Are you forgetting? I control Sinclair security. Without my order, not a single guard lifts a finger."

Nathaniel's face turned purple.

Game over.