Chapter 282
Then it’s settled.
Isabella considered it nothing more than an open-ended gamble. After all, she carried a vault of secrets Alexander could never fully unlock. Even the Cobweb operatives had failed to trace her life after she vanished from school.
Once their discussion about the necklace concluded, she shifted topics.
Amelia had been fortunate since the incident. Julian mentioned that with another six months of treatment, she could nearly return to her former self. But after everything she’d endured, she might never fully regain the vibrancy of her peers.
Alexander leaned back on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other. His lips, slightly parted, bore faint marks—evidence of teeth and the lingering trace of blood.
“That’s more than enough for me,” he admitted earnestly. He had never dared hope Amelia would speak again. As he fastened the necklace back around his neck, he could still feel the warmth of Isabella’s touch.
Alexander had always been unpredictable. In recent years, his temper had darkened, largely due to the chronic headaches that plagued him. The storm inside him left those around him walking on eggshells. Yet, amidst the chaos, Isabella’s faint scent brought him an unexpected calm.
He knew she wanted to meet his grandmother. After discussing Amelia’s condition, he broached the subject.
“Grandma has been in the nursing home for years. Her moments of clarity are rare. If you want to learn about the past, Sebastian can take you there.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “I’ve already arranged it. You won’t have any trouble.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kingsley.”
Isabella felt drained, especially after that kiss. It was as if Alexander had siphoned the energy straight from her. Steadying herself, she took a sip of tea.
“I hope her Alzheimer’s can be treated. It might lead me to answers about my mother.”
Her voice was calm, almost detached. Years of disappointment had taught her to temper her expectations. Yet, after searching for so long, she finally had a thread to pull. Maybe she’d find someone who knew her mother—and that thought brought her a sliver of peace.
Setting down her cup, she asked, “But why not bring her home for treatment? Why keep her in a nursing home?”
The question had always nagged at her. Why would the Kingsleys exile a sick old woman? No matter how well-run the facility, it couldn’t compare to the comfort of home. Given Alexander’s cautious nature, wasn’t he worried about the risks? Rumors swirled about past kidnapping attempts—people desperate for ransom.
“Grandma’s situation isn’t like Amelia’s. She’s…” Alexander paused, his dark eyes frosting over. “She’s my father’s mother. He insisted she stay there from the start. I don’t know what he told her, but every time we brought her home, she grew agitated.”
Truthfully, if Alexander hadn’t held controlling shares and run his own companies, Richard would have likely handed everything to Damian. To Alexander, he’d been fatherless for years.
“Besides, even if we brought her home, we don’t have the equipment or specialists to care for her properly.”
Alexander was often buried in corporate affairs, barely able to tend to Amelia, let alone his grandmother. Professional care was the logical choice.
Isabella understood immediately. She didn’t press about the shadow in his eyes when he mentioned his father. Every family had its ghosts.
She nodded. “I’ll do everything I can to help your grandmother recover.”
Alexander said nothing more. “I trust you.”
His gaze drifted to the window, lost in thought. Isabella stole a glance at him. He buttoned his shirt, his expression distant, yet the faint scab on his lip betrayed a vulnerability. It was hard to reconcile this controlled man with the one who had lost himself in her words—claiming they were business partners, misreading her intentions as rejection.
Studying his broad frame beneath the tailored shirt, she remarked, “You performed exceptionally at the race. No one would guess you’d been in a wheelchair for years. You must’ve practiced in secret, right?”
Though phrased as a question, her tone held certainty.
“Just a hobby. I wasn’t exceptional. My younger brother is the real prodigy. I can’t compare.”
At the mention of his brother, Alexander’s demeanor softened, the tension easing.
“But I didn’t expect you to be so impressive, Ms. Sinclair.”
Isabella blinked, wondering if she’d misread him. Yet his tone carried an undeniable warmth.
“Two competitors disrupted your race. Without them, you would’ve won, Mr. Kingsley.”
“I was just lucky,” she demurred.
Neither revealed much as they circled each other, testing the waters like wary predators. The wager had begun, but neither was ready to show their hand. They were evenly matched, each holding back just enough to keep the other guessing.
“You were the champion, Ms. Sinclair. I’m convinced.”
His casual tone belied the intensity between them. When their eyes met, Alexander felt the unspoken tension—a high-stakes chess match, every move calculated, each trying to unravel the other’s secrets.
The thrill of anticipation hummed in the air, a delicate dance of hidden truths and unspoken strategies.
