Chapter 292
Isabella had felt indebted to Alexander ever since the rescue incident. His tarnished reputation did nothing to diminish her respect for him.
Alexander glanced at the proposal on the table. "These are minor adjustments with minimal costs. I'm confident Isabella can handle them. If you remain unsatisfied, I'll secure top-tier artists for the show." He produced a list and handed it to Beatrice. "I've already prepared potential candidates."
Beatrice scanned the document, recognizing renowned SilverPeak artists. Their measurements aligned perfectly with Arabella's team, eliminating need for costume modifications.
Her expression softened considerably. "Excellent work! You've always been so thorough. I'll allow two more days then."
"Thank you, Ms. Worthington," Alexander responded with polished grace.
"Continue your efforts, young man. Remember—it's never too late to cherish what matters. Isabella deserves your devotion." Beatrice gave his shoulder an approving pat before exiting.
Alexander offered a polite nod before turning his attention to Isabella. He anticipated gratitude, but she rose without acknowledgment, moving toward the exit.
"Isabella." He reached for her, but Adrian intercepted with a protective stance. "Mr. Whitmore, maintain appropriate boundaries. The contract termination severs all ties. Do not touch her."
Alexander withdrew his hovering hand awkwardly. "I only wish to speak. Ms. Worthington was right—we learn through errors. Won't you grant me one opportunity?"
Errors? He reduced their history to mere mistakes?
"What purpose exists in sparing a murderer?" Isabella's scoff carried glacial sharpness. "If mistakes taught lessons, why would law enforcement exist?"
Her words landed with precise, brutal clarity.
Alexander's kick had killed her unborn child. Though not his, it remained a life extinguished. How dared he seek redemption after such brutality?
Did he truly believe she couldn't discern his motives? Marriage. Domination. Asset acquisition.
Delusional arrogance.
"Security!" Her command echoed.
Ten guards immediately flooded the room, forming a barrier around Isabella. Shielded by their presence, she exited with an icy, untamable aura.
Alexander stood cornered under the guards' vigilant stares. His gaze hardened as he watched her retreat.
The timid girl who once trailed after him had transformed into an unattainable force.
What fueled her audacity? Her diamond enterprise? Or failing GoldenPhoenix? She owed ten billion without his intervention! How dared she treat him thus? A raped woman who delivered a dead fetus—what right had she to arrogance? Did she truly believe Nathaniel would marry her?
Hmph! She required a harsh lesson.
Outside, the parking lot revealed a vandalized motorcycle. Deep scratches marred its surface. Rotten eggs and fruit splattered across the seat. The handlebars bore unmistakable graffiti:
DIE, ISABELLA!
Her frown deepened. Who would do this?