Chapter 250

Nothing in this world was beyond Nathaniel Blackwood's reach. Isabella Montgomery only needed to speak the words.

As the memory of the incident replayed in her mind, Isabella leaned back into the plush seat, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. "It's a trivial issue," she stated flatly. "I'll handle it myself." She closed her eyes immediately after, a clear dismissal. She wanted no further discussion on the matter.

Nathaniel's gaze darkened, a flicker of concern shadowing his features. He hadn't seen her this visibly perturbed in a long while. Yet, if she chose not to confide in him, he would wait. He had infinite patience for her.

Meanwhile…

Victoria Kensington was locked in a bathroom stall, her voice a tense half-whisper into her phone. "What do you mean they all ran? They refused the money?"

"Yes," confirmed Penelope Sinclair on the other end. "They claimed Boss Blackwood intervened to save Benjamin."

Victoria's fist slammed against the cold marble sink. Damn it! While Alexander Whitmore was making a grand, public spectacle of proposing to Isabella, Nathaniel was quietly solving her problems in the shadows. What had that woman done to earn such unwavering devotion from two of the most powerful men?

The sheer injustice of it was enough to make her blood boil. To make it worse, Alexander wasn't even answering her calls anymore. The distance he was putting between them was painfully obvious.

She forced her voice to steady. "Did you acquire the perfume as I instructed?"

"Yes, but the final bid at auction escalated to ninety million. Are you absolutely certain you wish to proceed?" Penelope's tone was cautious.

Ninety million for a bottle of perfume! It felt like daylight robbery.

With Isabella having seized the majority of her assets, Victoria's financial reserves were critically low. This perfume, however, could be the key to turning everything around…

"Purchase it. At any cost!" she commanded, her voice sharp. "I'll arrange the transfer. Just secure it."

"Understood."

The moment the call ended, Victoria's heart ached with the financial blow. She was forced to liquidate a significant portion of her remaining luxury—a collection of over ten limited-edition handbags and several jewelry sets—selling them at a steep discount to a wealthy socialite acquaintance just to scrape together the exorbitant sum.

Once the transaction was confirmed, a vicious, calculating smile twisted her lips. The sting of the cost was real, a physical pain. But she would make this perfume earn its weight in gold, and then some. She picked up her phone again, her fingers swiftly searching for Nathaniel Blackwood's private contact details.

That evening, the aftermath of the Celestial Gala ignited fierce debates across social media. Seraphina Delacroix's conspicuous absence. Arabella Fontaine's shocking ascent to claim the title of No.1 Supermodel and the Award for Most Commercial Value. And, most explosively, the swirling rumors concerning Isabella Montgomery and Alexander Whitmore.

#AlexanderWhitmore-Proposed

#Isabellas-3-Demands

#Was-Alexander-Sincere

#The-Incident-5-Years-Ago

These hashtags dominated the trending lists. Of course, topics like #Isabellas-Gown, #Phoenix, and #D.K also fought for attention high on the charts.

Even though Isabella had only received a relatively minor award, her presence and the scandals surrounding her completely overshadowed nearly every other attendee.

In a sterile hospital room, Seraphina Delacroix seethed, scrolling through the online frenzy from her sickbed.

"That conniving little opportunist, Arabella! She capitalized on my absence! That top model title would never have been hers if I were there!

"And that gown! Someone paid a fortune for it. How did that wretch Isabella get her hands on it? What did she have to do to wear it?

"That bitch! Demanding ninety-nine percent of his company shares? It's nothing but a cheap publicity stunt!"

Fury contorted Seraphina's features as she viciously pummeled her pillow.

"Ms. Delacroix, the doctor stressed the importance of rest and calm for your recovery," her assistant ventured cautiously, trying to soothe her. "This anger isn't helping. The company's current crisis is the more pressing matter. Numerous artists are threatening to terminate their contracts. Arabella, in particular, has become insufferably arrogant since winning that award tonight. She's publicly slandering our company, calling us fraudulent and manipulative, claiming we forced her into unethical situations."

"Hmph! She owes her entire career to this company. Dreaming of leaving? She can rot first!" Seraphina snarled, her teeth gritted.

After a moment of fuming silence, she looked up, a malicious glint in her eyes. "Wait. Weren't there persistent rumors about Arabella and Director Hue?"

"Yes, they were substantiated. I personally witnessed them together on one occasion…" the assistant confirmed.

A slow, cruel smile spread across Seraphina's face. "Let her terminate her contract. She can leave only after she pays the full termination penalty in blood! And then… let her scurry off to Isabella's new little venture."

"To GoldenPhoenix? Ms. Delacroix, are you sure? That seems…" her assistant trailed off, bewildered.

"You're the one who's lost your mind! Didn't Isabella want to challenge a giant with a pebble? Didn't she boast about poaching my artists? Fine. Let her have them. This time, I will ensure her precious GoldenPhoenix is buried for good."

Pure, unadulterated malice shone in Seraphina's eyes, mixed with a cold, calculated evil.