Chapter 12
Oliver Blackwood tugged at Nathaniel Blackwood’s sleeve. “Daddy, help Mommy! Someone is hurting her!” he cried.
Nathaniel’s expression remained unreadable. He picked up his phone, found a contact, and dialed. When the call connected, his voice was low and commanding. “Isabella Montgomery is under my protection.”
Downstairs, the event coordinator stared at his phone in disbelief before his eyes darted toward Isabella, who was being restrained by security. Panic seized him. Dear god… This woman belonged to Nathaniel Blackwood?
“Release her! Now! Don’t lay a hand on Miss Montgomery!” he shrieked, his voice trembling with raw fear.
The security guards froze in confusion. The crowd fell silent, stunned. Wasn’t she just some nobody? What changed?
The coordinator rushed to Isabella and bowed deeply. “Miss Montgomery, my sincerest apologies. You requested one minute? Please, take all the time you require.” His words spilled out in a nervous, respectful rush. “Chanel values fairness above all. We would be honored to have you participate.”
Isabella’s brow furrowed. His attitude shifted faster than a flipping page. Who was on that call?
A strange sensation prickled her skin—the feeling of being watched. She glanced upward, her eyes locking with a man observing her from behind a second-floor glass door.
Nathaniel Blackwood.
What was he doing here? A faint, unconscious smile touched Nathaniel’s lips when their eyes met. Beside him, Oliver waved at her excitedly.
Isabella’s heart skipped. Why would Nathaniel help her? The kid was odd enough, but his father was even more perplexing. She had rejected him plainly yesterday. Was he actually pursuing her?
Nathaniel’s slight smile faded into a frown. Women usually threw themselves at him. Why did Isabella seem so wary and resistant?
Noticing Nathaniel’s intense gaze, the coordinator trembled. “Miss Montgomery, shall we assist you with any preparations?”
“No. I’m ready.” She walked toward the stage, confidence radiating from her.
Isabella’s goal was clear: strip Victoria Kensington of every opportunity and shred of fame. The audience remained clueless, still mocking her choice of dress and her audacity to compete.
They saw her as a delusional upstart. Giving her a chance was charity. Who did she think she was?
Even the designer was appalled. How could the coordinator allow this? Letting this woman touch her creation was an insult. “Not just anyone can wear my designs. If this amateur remains, I will cease working with Chanel.”
Suddenly, all the lights in the ballroom cut to black.
After a moment of darkness, a soft green spotlight swept across the T-stage. A weathered wooden stump materialized in the center. Isabella perched on it, one hand supporting her chin, her features exquisitely highlighted.
She leaned back with effortless grace, as if resting on a lazy summer afternoon. Her dark green dress cascaded around her, evoking a timeless, vintage beauty.
Her crimson lips did not clash with her elegance. Instead, they enhanced it, giving her an ethereal, almost mystical aura—cold and flawless.
Fireflies began to glow in the darkness, drifting toward her. Some settled on her curled lashes; others landed gently in her palm. The scene was breathtaking, a living fantasy painting.
The replica necklace around her neck seemed to come alive against her skin, glowing with an otherworldly light.
The audience held its breath, utterly captivated. It became clear: true beauty didn’t require simplicity or false innocence. A real goddess could shine even with blood-red lips.
The silence was absolute. Everyone was mesmerized.
When her performance ended, the spell broke. Thunderous applause erupted.
“Magnificent!”
“That’s the true essence of ‘Glowing Forest’!”
The designer completely retracted her earlier words. “Who is she? I take it all back. Sign her immediately!” she exclaimed, beaming. “We must have her!”
Upstairs, Oliver jumped with joy. “Mommy is so beautiful! Daddy, hurry! You have to win her over before someone else does!”
“Patience yields better results than haste,” Nathaniel replied flatly, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Hmph! You’re too slow! I’ll help you!” Oliver pushed away and bolted downstairs.
Nathaniel’s frown deepened. “Stop him!”
Sebastian Blackwood immediately gave chase.