Chapter 120

The memories remained vivid in Isabella's mind, even after all these years.

That day still haunted her. She remembered rushing to the restroom, heart shattered, only to return and find Beatrice holding two ice creams - one for her, one for Victoria.

A careless waiter had brushed against one cone, leaving an ugly grease mark on its perfect swirl.

Victoria had immediately claimed the pristine one.

Beatrice had simply smiled and ruffled Isabella's hair, making no effort to replace the soiled treat.

When she returned, Beatrice wordlessly handed her the damaged ice cream without explanation for the missing chunk.

The Kensington family could have bought a thousand ice creams without blinking. Ten thousand, even.

Yet Beatrice couldn't be bothered to get a replacement.

That moment burned itself into Isabella's consciousness - the realization that Beatrice's affection had long since faded.

She'd never forget young Victoria's expression either - watching her accept the tainted dessert with barely concealed malice.

Reginald had orchestrated countless similar humiliations.

Now, thinking back, Alexander hardly mattered anymore.

Observing Beatrice's practiced concern and Eleanor's self-righteous lecturing, Isabella let out a bitter laugh and redirected the conversation to Alexander and Victoria.

"You claim to care about me. I want to believe that. But if your idea of caring means helping Victoria destroy my marriage, what does that say?"

Neither Beatrice nor Eleanor flinched. They'd clearly anticipated this response.

Beatrice sighed dramatically. "Bella, you know how things stand between you and Alexander. Why chain someone who doesn't love you? Divorce means freedom. Grandma is—"

"Let me guess - doing what's best for me?" Isabella interrupted.

She studied them coldly. "You've recycled this speech so often - doesn't it bore you? If you're going to dismiss me, at least invent something new."

"How can I take you seriously when you won't even put in the effort? Next time, try originality."

Before they could respond, she continued, "Not that it would change anything. Actions speak louder than words, don't they?"

Her sharp retort left them momentarily speechless.

Beatrice recovered quickly. As she opened her mouth to respond, Isabella turned to Gregory, who had just returned. "Mr. Whitmore, are we finished here? Shall we go?"

Gregory had sensed the tension. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Of course."

Turning to Beatrice and Eleanor, he nodded. "Mrs. Kensington, Ms. Kensington, we'll take our leave."

Beatrice smiled graciously, but her sigh when looking at Isabella was heavy with disapproval.

Ever since Reginald divorced Evelyn, every act of defiance from Isabella had been met with these disappointed sighs from him and Beatrice.

As if she was the problem. The difficult one. The disappointment.

The conditioning ran so deep that after moving to the Sinclair estate with her mother, Isabella developed an actual phobia of disappointed sighs.

For years - until she was nearly thirteen - despite the Sinclair family's kindness, she'd been painfully obedient. Terrified of mistakes. Afraid to breathe wrong.