Chapter 54

Isabella's glare was icy, sharp enough to cut through steel.

"Miss Seraphina must be treating you well, Mr. Nathaniel. You've grown even bolder."

"Don't drag her into this," Nathaniel snapped, irritation flashing in his eyes.

"Stay away if you don't want to hear worse. Other than finalizing the divorce, I want nothing to do with you. Goodbye."

For three years, she had looked at him with hope, her eyes lighting up whenever he appeared. Now, they were empty—lifeless. The sudden shift sent a chill through him, as if he'd been plunged into an abyss of ice.

"I won't let you walk away."

Isabella scoffed. "Because you say so? Do you think I'm some obedient pet?"

"Stop twisting my words. That's not what I meant." His jaw tightened.

"Twisting? Oh, Nathaniel, you're so painfully dense. Can't you recognize sarcasm? Let me spell it out—I despise you. Leave me alone."

Her eyes burned with fury as she tried to wrench her wrist free.

But Nathaniel wasn't one to back down. The harder she fought, the firmer his grip became, ignoring the unspoken rule of treating a lady with care.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips.

She clutched her right arm, a thin sheen of sweat forming on her brow.

Nathaniel froze, realizing his mistake.

Blood stained his palm.

In his haste, he'd forgotten—her wrist was still wounded.

His chest tightened.

"I'm taking you to the infirmary," he said gruffly.

"Get out, or I'm calling the police," she hissed.

"Isabella."

"I said leave!"

Her heart was as scarred as her wrist.

Three years of marriage, and he'd never once held her hand.

Now that they were divorcing, he dared to touch her? Did he think she'd become more tolerable?

The irony was unbearable.

His face paled at her outburst.

"You're telling me to leave? You were the one who insisted on this marriage. Where was this defiance back then?"

"Because I loved you then," she spat, her laughter bitter.

The words struck him like a blade.

His breath hitched.

"When I loved you, you could do whatever you wanted. Now that I don't, you get nothing. Did you really think you could keep reaping the benefits after destroying us? It's over, Nathaniel. You mean nothing to me."

She lifted her chin, turning away without hesitation.

"Do you think I'd be here if it weren't for Grandfather?" His voice was rough. "He hasn't slept in five days. He refuses to eat unless he sees you."

Her fists clenched.

Grandfather was the one person she couldn't ignore.

The one tether still binding them.

She had promised to celebrate his birthday before the divorce.

And she never broke her promises.

Even when it hurt.

"I didn't forget. I'll visit him soon."

"Now."

"What?"

"He's waiting. Come with me."

His patience was fraying, his tone edged with urgency. "Don't disappoint him, Isabella."

In the end, she relented.

She had her reasons for caring for Reginald all those years ago. Back then, she never imagined marrying Nathaniel—she just wanted to be closer to him.

But day by day, she grew to adore the wise old man.

He wasn't just family.

He was her mentor.

Nathaniel followed her to the infirmary. The doctor was out, so she reached for a bandage.

"Let me." His voice was cold as he stepped closer.

She sidestepped. "No."

But Nathaniel was just as stubborn.

He seized her wrist, his grip unyielding. "Behave."

She stiffened as his fingers brushed her skin.

He worked meticulously, his touch surprisingly gentle.

His hands were elegant, veins tracing beneath his skin as he moved.

Some people exuded charm effortlessly.

Nathaniel was one of them.

Her hand was rougher than he expected—soft yet marked by faint calluses.

A strange sense of familiarity prickled at the back of his mind.

Moonlight. Tangled sheets. A fleeting warmth.

He exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away.

He'd never felt this way about Seraphina.

So why did his ex-wife—the woman who infuriated him—stir something so unsettling?

Isabella jerked her hand back. "That's enough."

"Not yet."

His fingers tightened, his smirk cold. "Been working hard? Your hands are rough."

"Cleaning," she lied, knowing how much he hated dirt.

"Isabella."

"I am speaking normally. If you can't understand, that's your problem."

She smirked, her eyes glinting with defiance.

Nathaniel's temper flared.

This woman had become insufferable since gaining independence.

And yet—

He found it intriguing.

He'd never seen this fiery side of her before.

Despite her minor injury, he bandaged it with surprising expertise.

She knew his background—top of his class in military school, a natural strategist.

He could've been a spy.

Or taken Sebastian's place.

But fate had made him the heir to the Vanderbilt empire.

And he'd excelled.

A legend in his own right.

Pity Seraphina had tarnished that legacy.

Isabella's lips curled.

Fine. If he wanted to play games, let him.

She had better things to do.

They reached the parking lot.

As she moved toward her Bugatti, Nathaniel blocked her path.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To my car."

"You're riding with me."

"No, thanks."

She waved him off, but before she could react, he yanked open his car door, hauled her inside, and slammed it shut.

"Hey! Is this a kidnapping?!" She pounded on the window, furious.

"I don't trust you, Isabella."

He leaned down, his gaze dark.

"You're full of tricks. I'm not taking any chances."