Chapter 506

Sebastian's pupils dilated, an electric current of desire surging through his veins.

His calloused fingers traced the delicate curve of her neck, pulling her closer, claiming her lips with unrestrained hunger.

The elderly vendor averted her gaze, busying herself with wiping down the counter, unwilling to intrude on the intimate moment unfolding before her.

But that tender kiss was a dagger to Nathaniel's heart, twisting his insides into agonizing knots.

It felt like a jagged blade had been plunged into his chest, bitterness and despair gushing forth like a crimson tide, staining everything in its wake.

Harrison, standing nearby, exhaled sharply through his nose.

Love was the one thing in this world that couldn't be bought, no matter how much wealth or cunning one possessed.

Nathaniel had sacrificed everything for this woman, yet Isabella still threw herself into Sebastian's arms without hesitation!

A rose nurtured by poison, thriving in decay!

When Isabella finally broke the kiss, her cheeks were flushed, her voice thick with emotion. "Sebastian, you've endured so much. But it's over now. Our future is bright."

"With you by my side, every day feels like a dream," Sebastian murmured, pulling her into his embrace, his eyes alight with visions of their shared tomorrow.

Romance had never come naturally to him—he wasn't the type for sweet nothings.

But for Isabella, he was willing to learn.

She nestled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, tears welling in her eyes.

"Isabella, are you crying?" Sebastian asked, startled.

"This is your fault," she mumbled into his shirt.

His pulse stuttered. "Why? Feeling sorry for me?"

She didn’t answer, but the glistening trails on her cheeks spoke volumes.

"Sweetheart, don’t cry. Hardship only makes me stronger."

Sebastian couldn’t describe the storm of emotions inside him—guilt, sorrow, but also overwhelming gratitude. "Isabella, do you know? Every day, I thank fate for sparing me in Zenithia. If I’d died there, I never would’ve met you."

The night was serene, stars shimmering above as a gentle breeze wrapped around the entwined couple.

Unseen by them, a sleek black car idled across the street, its occupant seething with envy.

"Mr. Kingsley, it's late. We should return," Harrison urged, wiping sweat from his brow.

Nathaniel looked hollow, slumping back into his seat. His bloodshot eyes closed as he removed his gold-rimmed glasses.

A sharp snap echoed through the car.

"Mr. Kingsley!" Harrison gasped.

Nathaniel had crushed the frames in his fist, shards biting into his palm. Blood dripped between his fingers, vanishing into the shadows.

Harrison’s stomach lurched.

Those glasses had been Nathaniel’s constant companion since the day Harrison had entered his service.

Now, they lay shattered—just like Nathaniel’s restraint.

"You said Emeric found no trace of Isabella? Funny. Here she is," Nathaniel muttered darkly, pulling out his phone to dial Emeric.

The Next Day

After hours of grueling interrogation, Matthew stumbled out of the prosecutor’s office, exhaustion weighing him down.

But before he could even shower, Jeff summoned him to the hospital.

The moment Jeff learned the family had lost two hundred million in days, he erupted, demolishing the hospital room with the fury of a caged beast.

The money was secondary.

The real blow was the scandal halting their Helgen project, with government officials now scrutinizing their finances.

"Father, calm down. Your health—" Matthew rasped, his unshaven face haggard, his hair greasy. "We can recover the money, but if this scandal isn’t contained—"

"Recover it? With what?" Jeff snarled, standing amid the wreckage. "Two hundred million, plus the overseas projects frozen—we’re down nearly a billion! When will you earn that back?"

Matthew’s jaw clenched.

Then, a smooth voice cut through the tension.

"Don’t worry, Father."

Avery strolled in, his smile effortless. "I can fix this."

Jeff’s eyes widened. "You?"

Matthew’s glare could’ve melted steel.

Damn pretty boy. In another era, he’d be nothing but a eunuch.

"I’ve been building connections abroad," Avery said, patting Jeff’s shoulder. "Fifteen years in Helgen wasn’t wasted. Getting approvals is child’s play."

Jeff gripped his arm. "You’re serious?"

Avery met his gaze, inwardly sneering.

His entire life, Jeff had belittled him—useless, worthless. Now, desperation made him cling like a drowning man.

Memories flashed: kneeling in snow at eight, Byron and Bertha pouring ice water down his back, his fever burning for days while his mother wept silently.

And Matthew? Smirking.

One day, he’d make them all beg.

"Of course, Father," Avery said, eyes gleaming with false humility. "But how should I present myself? I hold no position in the company."

Jeff didn’t hesitate. "Starting tomorrow, you’re Executive Director. Get Helgen back on track, and I’ll transfer Bertha’s shares to you—plus five percent more."

Matthew’s face drained of color.

Avery smiled. "Thank you, Father."

Before Jeff could reply, his secretary burst in. "Sir! Byron’s been arrested!"

Jeff and Matthew froze.

Only Avery’s lips curled in satisfaction.

Byron, high out of his mind, had been dragged from a party mid-orgy, assaulting officers while screaming about his "rights."

Now, shirtless and delirious, he wailed to the press: "I couldn’t rape anyone! I’m impotent!"

Cameras flashed, capturing every humiliating detail.

Then, darkness swallowed him.