Chapter 118

“Isabella, you should have some refreshment too,” Gabriella offered, extending a chilled juice bottle.

“The old proverb warns about Greeks bearing gifts,” Isabella replied coolly, not even glancing at the offering. “Nothing from you comes without strings attached.”

Gabriella’s smile tightened with visible discomfort. “Suit yourself. I’ll just leave it here for later, then.” She set the bottle on the vanity and made a swift exit.

Isabella narrowed her eyes in suspicion. ‘Since when does Gabriella show kindness? Victoria must be plotting something again. If she wants to play games, I’ll play along.’ With a calculated flick of her wrist, Isabella snatched the bottle and tossed it directly into the nearby waste bin.

Victoria maintained a neutral expression, but triumph glittered in her eyes. ‘Just you wait, Isabella. Your downfall is guaranteed.’

At that moment, Archibald Worthington’s assistant, Beatrice Holloway, entered carrying an elaborate fruit arrangement. “Ladies, a token of good fortune from the organizers,” she announced warmly. “A custom strawberry tower for everyone to share. Our lead model shall have the first selection.”

The structure was an artistic cascade of glistening red strawberries, meticulously stacked like a champagne fountain. A single crimson blossom adorned the peak strawberry for added luck.

A voice from the group sneered, “Archibald and his superstitions. Who does a luck ceremony for a professional event?”

“Last year’s fruit sculpture was the Eiffel Tower,” another model recalled nostalgically. “Far more imaginative than this.”

“What a waste letting a novice take the first piece. Ruins the entire tradition,” a third voice muttered bitterly.

Isabella ignored the petty comments and plucked the top strawberry with its decorative flower. As she raised it to her lips, an intense prickling sensation crawled up her spine—the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Her gaze snapped to the corner where Victoria sat, a predatory smile stretching across her face as she watched with barely concealed anticipation.

‘Did Victoria tamper with this?’ Isabella’s instincts screamed in warning. Knowing Victoria’s relentless spite, poisoning was entirely within her repertoire. To avoid offending Archibald while protecting herself, Isabella waited for Beatrice to turn toward the other models. In that split second, she discreetly dropped the strawberry into the trash.

Victoria’s glee became palpable. The stage was set. The show was about to begin. This time, Isabella would not escape.