Chapter 139
Evelyn’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she whispered,
“After that… I became the center of vicious gossip for months.”
“Don’t let their poison touch you,” Isabella said firmly, her voice like steel wrapped in velvet.
“Hold your head high. Their words are nothing but dust—meant to be brushed away. You are stronger than their lies.”
Isabella understood Evelyn’s pain all too well.
She had been the subject of whispers herself—rumors about her and Alexander that had slithered through the company like snakes.
She knew the cruelty people were capable of when given the chance to tear someone down.
Some things never changed.
“Not all of it was untrue…” Evelyn’s voice was barely audible, trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, as if she could vanish into the shadows, terrified Isabella might see her differently now.
“One evening, a client insisted on drinks. I… I let my guard down. And then—I was drugged.”
Isabella’s expression darkened instantly, fury igniting in her chest like a wildfire.
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe.
“What happened next?” she asked, her voice rough with barely contained rage.
“The client didn’t succeed,” Evelyn choked out, her voice breaking.
“But Marcus and the others found out. Instead of helping me, they took photos. They blackmailed the client—and then used those photos to threaten me.”
Tears spilled over, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.
“I didn’t care about myself. But they said they’d send the photos to my parents. My mother’s health is fragile, and my little sister is still in school. I couldn’t let them suffer because of me.”
Isabella’s fists tightened at her sides.
The depths people would sink to exploit someone’s weakness made her sick.
But what struck her most was Evelyn’s quiet strength—how she had endured, how she hadn’t let the ugliness harden her heart.
“You could have left Charisma,” Isabella murmured.
“With your skills, you could have found work anywhere.”
“I… I couldn’t,” Evelyn admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
“My family has nothing. Mr. Kingsley has been kind to us—he’s not what the rumors say. He provides bonuses, sponsors employees’ relatives’ education… but only one per family. I gave that chance to my sister.”
A sob escaped her.
“If I leave, she loses everything. She’d have to work too young. I won’t let her suffer like I did.”
Isabella felt an ache deep in her chest—a hollow, bitter thing she couldn’t name.
She had few memories of family, but that emptiness had always haunted her.
Now, looking at Evelyn, she felt an unexpected kinship.
“Listen to me,” Isabella said softly, resting a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder.
“The past doesn’t define you. And I will make sure justice is served. A woman’s worth isn’t measured by what was taken from her. It’s measured by the strength of her spirit.”
The words left her lips before she realized—they sounded familiar.
Then she remembered.
Alexander had said something like that once, back in Athton.
At the time, she’d been surprised by the depth of his words.
But over time, she’d learned that beneath his icy exterior, Alexander Kingsley burned with a quiet, relentless fire.
He was called ruthless, yet no one knew how many struggling families he silently supported.
At Isabella’s words, Evelyn finally broke.
She crumpled, sobbing into her hands, relief and gratitude pouring out of her like a storm.
“Ms. Sinclair… thank you. Thank you.”
“I’m here,” Isabella said simply.
And for the first time in years, Evelyn felt like she could breathe again.
Meanwhile, Marcus was finalizing his plan to destroy Isabella.
He smirked as he disabled the last security camera, whispering to his accomplices,
“Hurry. Before anyone notices.”
As he stepped out, a flicker of unease pricked at him.
What if Evelyn had talked?
But when he saw her return to the lab—eyes red-rimmed, shoulders hunched, shrinking into the background like always—he relaxed.
“She wouldn’t dare speak up,” he sneered.
Tabitha smirked beside him.
“Even if she did, what could Ms. Sinclair do? It’s just office drama. No proof, no case.”
They exchanged smug glances, convinced their plan was flawless.
Little did they know—Isabella Sinclair didn’t need proof to wage war.
She only needed a reason.
And now, she had one.
