Chapter 68

“Unnecessary,” Isabella dismissed. “They were just photographs. Did that truly exhaust you? I don’t require such theatrics.”

She rose and walked toward the water dispenser.

Victoria had been relaxed, but Isabella’s sharp tone soured her mood instantly. Humiliation warmed her cheeks, but she quickly composed herself. She was the top model, after all.

She seized the moment. “Oh, what a useless older sister I’ve been. All these years at home, Mother and Father never allowed me to do a thing. They feared I might strain myself. That’s why I’m so terribly spoiled.”

She smiled sweetly. “I truly admire you, dear sister. You’ve had the chance to be so… independent. Not like me. Even on a simple walk, someone always holds my umbrella. Whatever I wish to eat is prepared immediately. I’ve told them often they should be kinder to you. That you could be their real daughter! Can you guess what they said?” She left the question hanging, a deliberate tease.

Isabella didn’t even glance her way, entirely focused on her water.

Undeterred, Victoria pressed on. “Mother and Father said you were always distant, even as a child. They never cared for your temperament. Your personality. They said even if you were their biological child, they would still prefer me.” Her voice was honeyed, but the threat beneath was crystal clear. Unraveling the truth would gain Isabella nothing. No one would ever take her side.

Before Isabella could respond, Beatrice Holloway arrived.

“Ms. Kensington, I had a feeling I’d find you here. Mrs. Montgomery heard you were working so hard on your magazine shoot all afternoon. She was terribly concerned. She prepared ambrosia specially and asked me to bring it to you.”

“Mrs. Montgomery dotes on you, Victoria,” Gabriella Martinez commented offhandedly, shooting a meaningful look toward Isabella. She accepted the ornate container to pass to Victoria.

“Give it to my sister,” Victoria instructed graciously. “She’s never had ambrosia made by our mother personally.”

“A fair point. Our Victoria has had it more times than she can remember. You may have this one.” Gabriella carried the container toward Isabella, her every movement dripping with condescending charity.

Isabella shot them a mocking glance. “Ambrosia has little nutritional value. It’s overloaded with refined sugar. Excessive consumption can lead to diabetes. Hypertension. If you desire something sweet and refreshing, yet far healthier, I’d suggest fruit. High in vitamins. Full of natural sugars. Far superior for you.”

She finished her assessment and waved a dismissive hand at the offering, her expression one of pure distaste. Victoria and Gabriella’s faces darkened instantly. They had made the ambrosia sound like poison!

Fury choked them, but they were surrounded by witnesses.

Gabriella forced her words through clenched teeth. “Isabella, don’t call the grapes sour just because they are out of your reach. Victoria was being generous. How can you be so venomous?”

“Ms. Montgomery isn’t being venomous. She is correct.” The Gucci manager, who had been observing quietly, stepped forward kindly. “In our country, few eat ambrosia regularly. The preservatives in many ingredients are harmful in large quantities. The sugar content is exceptionally high. A natural beauty like yourself should avoid heavily processed foods. Especially sugar-laden desserts like this.”

Victoria’s complexion turned stormy. Her nails dug sharply into her palms. She had never felt so publicly humiliated. Why did disaster always follow Isabella? She longed to wipe that smug look right off her face.

Just then, another figure entered. “Ms. Kensington, our chairman has prepared a bowl of clam chowder for you. He hopes you will enjoy it.”

Isabella’s mood lifted visibly. Clam chowder?

“Clams are a type of shellfish,” Victoria interjected, her voice sugary sweet. “High in protein. Very low in carbohydrates and fat. Exceptional nutrient density. Full of beneficial vitamins and minerals. Iron. Vitamin B-12. Omega-3.” She arched a perfectly sculpted brow, a glint of pure mischief in her eyes. “You don’t have an issue with clam chowder, do you, dear sister?”