Chapter 632

The sun cast golden rays through the clinic windows as Vanessa Hart waited for her prenatal results.

The doctor smiled warmly. "Everything looks perfect with the baby's development."

Vanessa exhaled in relief, her fingers instinctively brushing her stomach. This pregnancy had come unexpectedly soon after her miscarriage—a miracle she'd barely dared to hope for.

Stepping outside, she collided with an unexpected figure.

Isabella Morgan stood there, her designer dress wrinkled, mascara smudged beneath red-rimmed eyes. Vanessa had seen the disastrous livestream yesterday—Isabella's humiliating public meltdown was all over social media.

Clearly, Alexander Whitmore had forced her to apologize to Evelyn.

Vanessa offered a tissue. "Fix your face, Ms. Morgan. You look like a raccoon."

Isabella snatched it with a bitter laugh. "Come to rub salt in my wounds?"

The hospital corridor buzzed with curious glances. Vanessa arched a brow. "Why would I? You're not even on my radar."

The truth was, Isabella didn't hate Evelyn—she was just desperately clinging to Alexander, her last lifeline.

Vanessa leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "If you want to stay close to Alexander, I know a way..."

Isabella recoiled. "You're using me to hurt Evelyn?"

Vanessa's hand rested on her belly as she smiled. "Call it... mutually beneficial advice."

Before Isabella could respond, her phone blared. Seeing Sebastian Powell's name, her face paled.

Vanessa tactfully withdrew as Isabella answered.

"Are you alright? I heard about the orchestra." Sebastian's concern dripped through the speaker. "Let me get you an apartment—"

"Nauseating," Isabella cut in coldly. "Alexander's taking care of me."

Silence. Then Sebastian's voice turned dangerous. "He's a married man, Isabella."

"And you're engaged to Victoria," she shot back. "Yet here you are."

A sharp inhale. "That's different. I love you."

Isabella hung up, unaware that just beyond the corner, a wheelchair sat motionless.

Nathaniel Powell swallowed hard, watching Dominic Powell's expression darken. They'd come for a routine checkup—only to overhear that explosive conversation.

Nathaniel ventured carefully, "Sir... perhaps we should—"

Dominic tapped the wheelchair armrest. "Tell me, Nathaniel. Which part of me looks upset?"

Nathaniel suppressed a shudder. The calmer Dominic appeared, the deadlier the storm.

A slow smile curled Dominic's lips. "So Sebastian let Victoria get kidnapped because his heart belongs elsewhere... fascinating."

He'd always wondered why the Powell family forced him into this engagement instead of golden boy Sebastian. Now he understood—Keith would never allow his heir to be tied to a scandal.

Nathaniel hesitated. "Should we inform Ms. Carter?"

Dominic chuckled. "And give Alexander Whitmore the advantage? I think not."

His tongue pressed against his cheek. Oh, he'd collect what was owed—with interest.

Meanwhile, Evelyn Carter finally convinced her doctor to discharge her.

"Any discomfort, come back immediately," the doctor warned, eyeing her abdomen.

Evelyn nodded, eager to surprise Alexander. She stopped at the market, selecting ingredients for his favorite meal.

But as she entered their home, her smile faltered.

Her slippers were gone. In their place—a pair of stilettos she'd last seen on Isabella.

Her pulse spiked. "Isabella's here?"

The living room stood empty.

Then footsteps descended the stairs.

Isabella emerged from the master bedroom, yawning, wearing Evelyn's robe and slippers.

Evelyn's blood turned to ice. "What are you doing in my house?"

Isabella blinked sleepily. "I live here now. Weren't you supposed to be hospitalized?"

The grocery bags slipped from Evelyn's numb fingers.