Chapter 91
“You’ve always had this uncanny ability to see right through me,” Isabella admitted with a playful smirk.
“Like I could ever hide anything from those sharp eyes of yours.”
They exchanged knowing smiles, each secretly admiring the other’s cunning nature.
Building a connection with Alexander was like planting a seed in rich soil—bound to yield fruitful results. The key was earning his trust, and more importantly, forging a bond with his grandmother.
“By the way,” Olivia interjected, her eyes gleaming with excitement, “there are a few competitions coming up. The speed parkour race is in two weeks. Interested?” She knew Isabella had a passion for extreme sports.
With a teasing grin, she added, “I love watching you compete. It’s like you were born for this.”
“Competitions, huh?” Isabella mused, taking a slow sip of water. “The prizes are decent.”
“First place takes a million. You can bet the competition will be brutal,” Olivia said, then smirked. “But I doubt money is your motivation. You’ve got three hundred million stashed in that offshore account. Why not enjoy the perks of the Jasmine restaurant instead? Ten million is pocket change for you.”
Isabella shook her head, her expression turning serious. “That account is off-limits for now. I’m using those funds to expand my perfume company in Vrining and launch new ventures. The company’s going public soon.”
She remembered her mother’s offhand remark about creating an international perfume brand. If she could make that dream a reality, maybe—just maybe—her mother would be proud, wherever she was.
As for Ontdale, Isabella refused to rely on foreign funds. She was determined to build her hacker network from scratch. This town held too many unanswered questions about her mother’s disappearance, and she wasn’t leaving without answers.
Starting over was just another challenge.
“I’ll never understand you,” Olivia teased, shaking her head. “Fine, I’ll sign you up for the race.”
On Sunday, Isabella returned to the Kingsley mansion for her pottery lesson.
“Good morning,” she greeted as she stepped inside, immediately spotting Amelia lingering in the corner like a shadow. The girl clutched the clay mold from their last session, her fingers absently tracing its edges. When she noticed Isabella, her eyes flickered with curiosity before she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to be caught staring.
“I haven’t been this happy in a long time,” Alexander murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he observed Amelia’s subtle shift in demeanor.
Isabella met his gaze briefly, and the memory of their heated kiss flashed between them. As if by silent agreement, they both looked away, pretending the moment hadn’t happened.
“We’re trying something new today,” Isabella said, kneeling beside Amelia and gently brushing a strand of hair from the girl’s face. The touch was comforting, encouraging.
Amelia didn’t pull away. Instead, she stared at Isabella with wide, curious eyes.
“You did great last time. Let’s keep going,” Isabella encouraged. To her surprise, Amelia nodded eagerly.
This time, Isabella guided Amelia’s hands through the process. The contact didn’t seem to bother the girl, who remained focused, her concentration unwavering.
Two hours later, Amelia held up her small sculpture with quiet pride.
From the hallway, Alexander’s voice called, “Come eat.”
Isabella turned and stifled a laugh. There he stood in the doorway, wearing an apron, his fingers smudged with oil. The dining table was set with dishes that looked straight out of a gourmet magazine—crisp young vegetables glistening under the light.
“These are from Mr. Hawthorne’s garden,” Alexander said casually, though his tone betrayed the effort he’d put in. “Wasn’t sure what flavors you preferred, so I kept it light.”
Isabella arched a brow. “Mr. Kingsley, confined to a chair yet cooking? You really know how to keep people guessing.”
“Just something simple,” he replied, unfazed.
Nearby, the butler, James, looked like he’d seen a ghost. In all his years serving Alexander, the man had rarely stepped into the kitchen—let alone cooked.
“Stop gawking and join us,” Alexander said, catching James’s stunned expression.
“We have Miss Sinclair to thank for this,” James chuckled, shaking his head.
Meanwhile, Amelia, usually oblivious to her surroundings, stared at the dishes without making a move.
“Here, try this,” Isabella suggested softly, noticing the girl’s lingering gaze. Each time Amelia’s eyes settled on a dish, Isabella served it to her without a word.
Alexander watched the exchange before clearing his throat.
“About our last conversation—have you reconsidered joining Charisma? I could offer you thirty percent of the shares.”
For most, thirty percent of a company like Charisma was an unimaginable offer. But Alexander knew Isabella’s worth. If she accepted, their future together could be limitless.
“That’s incredibly generous, Mr. Kingsley,” Isabella replied politely but firmly. “But I’m afraid I’m not suited for that role. I value my freedom too much.”
She was already juggling her perfume business and building her hacker network in Ontdale. Until those were settled, she couldn’t take on anything else.
Alexander, though disappointed, wasn’t surprised. He knew material gains wouldn’t sway her.
“Understood. I respect your decision,” he said.
“Thank you for understanding,” Isabella replied. Then, after a pause, she asked, “Do you own any property near Muisvedo, Mr. Kingsley?”
