Chapter 198

“It’s because I love him, Mother,” Victoria said softly. “That’s why his happiness matters more than anything. His heart belongs to Isabella. Forcing him to stay with me would only bring him pain… and turn his love for me into resentment. Their bond was written long before I ever came into the picture. I was always the outsider.”

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you ever speak of yourself that way!” Eleanor’s voice was sharp, protective. “Alexander is the one who’s blind—chasing after Isabella when he was promised to you! Your father warned him, but that arrogant man never listens!”

Even if he had reasons to leave Isabella all those years ago, that gave him no right to discard her daughter. Not when Victoria had given him her heart.

Victoria shook her head, her expression pained but resolved. “You misunderstand him, Mother. I was the one who ended things. I’ve had time to think… to realize what I’ve done.”

She took a shaky breath. “What I did to Isabella… it was monstrous. Back then, no one stood by her. No one but Alexander. I may have lost him, but I still have you and Father. That’s why… I want to step aside. Let her have him. Maybe then… this guilt will hurt a little less.”

Her words were gentle, self-sacrificing. Eleanor’s heart ached with pride and sorrow.

“Oh, my dear girl… Having a daughter as kind as you is a blessing. I will find you a husband worthy of you—someone far better than Alexander Whitmore.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

That same evening, Eleanor commented publicly on Isabella’s post:

[If you truly wish to rekindle what was lost, your sister has graciously consented. It’s clear you and Alexander share a history that cannot be ignored.]

At the same time, a private message from Theodore Montgomery arrived in Isabella’s inbox:

[I believe you and Alexander should set a date for the wedding celebration.]

Meanwhile, inside the Blackwood Estate, Isabella was guiding Oliver through a series of yoga poses. The practice was meant to soothe his nerves, to bring calm to a mind often clouded by illness.

Nearby, Nathaniel noticed Isabella’s phone light up. His eyes flickered over the screen—first Eleanor’s comment, then Theodore’s message. Even Alexander had texted her:

[Isabella, your family has given their blessing. Have I proven myself these past weeks? There are only fifteen days left. If you agree, I will begin arranging our wedding.]

Nathaniel knew this was all part of her plan—a carefully laid trap for her prey. But knowing didn’t stop the hot coil of jealousy tightening in his chest. Alexander’s relentless pursuit, the gifts, the pressure from her family… Was he really discussing wedding plans?

His gaze shifted, dark and displeased, toward Oliver.

The boy, seated cross-legged on his mat with headphones on, sensed his father’s mood instantly. He clutched his stomach dramatically.

“Oww… Mommy, my tummy hurts! I need the bathroom—I’ll be right back!” He scrambled up and bolted from the room before Isabella could respond.

She smiled faintly, assuming he was just avoiding the session. She resumed her pose. There was much to prepare for—not just the impending confrontation, but the upcoming Night of Glory. She intended to sweep every major award that night, to leave Victoria seething with helpless envy.

Balancing on one leg, Isabella extended the other high behind her, her body forming a clean, elegant line. The dancer’s pose required focus, strength, and grace—a perfect metaphor for her current life.

But she hadn’t practiced this particular pose in too long. Her core wavered. Her balance broke.

She started to tilt, bracing for the fall.

Then a pair of strong hands caught her firmly around the waist.