Chapter 273

Evelyn Sinclair drew a sharp breath. She refused to lose her composure in front of her grandchildren. "Don't let this woman fool you, my darlings. She's wicked through and through, a heartless seductress. Be good children and come home with Grandma. Your Great-Grandfather misses you terribly..."

The words sliced through Evelyn's heart like shards of glass. Beatrice Lockwood had just vilified her in front of her own children.

Before she could respond, Isabella suddenly turned toward the older woman.

"You look lovelier than ever, Grandma. My teacher says anger makes people ugly, so please don't be cross. I want you to stay beautiful forever," Isabella cooed while diligently massaging Beatrice's legs.

Beatrice chuckled at the child's words, her demeanor softening visibly. "What a little charmer you are! Have you been sneaking sweets again?"

Isabella counted on her tiny fingers with exaggerated concentration. "One... two... three... Oh dear, I've lost count! But it was lots and lots."

"You impudent little thing," Beatrice murmured affectionately, planting a kiss on the girl's cheek.

Meanwhile, Alexander selected a Valencia orange from the fruit basket, peeled it with care, and offered it to his grandmother. "This is very sweet, Grandma. You'll like it."

"My thoughtful boy," Beatrice praised, accepting the fruit and ruffling his hair. She'd always favored the grandson who bore such striking resemblance to her son.

"Please don't be angry with Mother, Grandma," Alexander continued earnestly. "This was our idea. If anyone should be scolded, it's Isabella and me." He bowed his head in readiness for reprimand.

Evelyn's anger dissipated like mist before sunlight.

Her children were deliberately charming Beatrice to shield her from the older woman's wrath. The realization filled Evelyn with bittersweet emotion.

Beatrice found herself disarmed despite her lingering resentment toward Evelyn. She would never discipline her beloved grandchildren, though her dislike for their mother remained unchanged.

Setting aside the half-eaten orange, Beatrice grasped both children's hands. "This isn't your home. Come back to Blackwood Manor with me. Your Great-Grandfather hasn't slept properly since you've been away."

"I won't go!" Isabella declared with unexpected defiance, struggling against Beatrice's grip. "I want to stay with Mother!"

Beatrice's patience snapped. Favoring boys over girls, she'd always indulged Alexander but couldn't tolerate disobedience from her granddaughter.

Three sharp smacks landed on Isabella's backside. "How dare you disobey me! This isn't your home! Must you provoke me? We're leaving now—no arguments!"

The delicate child couldn't withstand such force. Never before struck by her grandmother, Isabella burst into heartbroken sobs. "I... I hate you, Grandma!"

When Beatrice raised her hand again, Evelyn intervened.

"This is my home, Madam Lockwood," Evelyn stated coldly, positioning herself between Beatrice and her weeping daughter. "You've no right to discipline my child here. Look how hard you've struck her! Get out—now!"

With that, Evelyn forcibly escorted Beatrice out and slammed the door shut, ignoring the woman's outraged protests until the furious footsteps finally retreated.

Inside, Isabella's cries echoed through the house. Evelyn examined the angry red marks on her daughter's tender skin, her hatred for Beatrice intensifying.

How could any grandmother be so cruel? The incident reinforced Evelyn's fears—if she couldn't secure her divorce from Maxwell and Dominic remarried, who would protect her children from a potentially wicked stepmother?

Meanwhile, at T Corporation's Western Europe headquarters...

The executive conference room, styled in medieval opulence with polished oak furnishings blending classical and modern elements, housed the region's nervous leadership team. All eyes were fixed apprehensively on the imposing figure in the CEO's chair.

Dominic Blackwood sat ramrod straight, his hawk-like gaze dissecting each attendee. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the tabletop seemed to synchronize with the pounding hearts of his subordinates.

Though young, Dominic's formidable intellect and ruthless business acumen had propelled Regal Restaurants to industry dominance. His 200 IQ served equally well in financial calculations and psychological assessments.

Beside him, the equally formidable Vivienne Laurent observed the proceedings with quiet intensity.

Dominic's voice cut through the tension. "Regal is an international powerhouse under constant media scrutiny. This colossal failure demands accountability. Mr. Caldwell, Mr. Harrison—as regional heads, what explanations do you offer?"

The two middle-aged executives exchanged uneasy glances before composing themselves.

Richard Caldwell, the regional manager, spoke first. "This was unforeseeable, Mr. Blackwood. Before our PR team could respond, the media had already run the story. Clearly this is sabotage by Clos Maggior—our fiercest competitor! Adrian Moreau has always resented Regal's dominance. This reeks of his underhanded tactics!"

Samuel Harrison, his deputy, offered a contrasting response. "The fault lies with us, Mr. Blackwood. I accept full responsibility for the company's losses and await your judgment."

Dominic took a slow drag from his cigarette, his icy gaze flickering between the two men as he assessed their vastly different reactions...