Chapter 165

Oliver was beginning to question everything he knew.

Just then, Eleanor stepped out of the elevator. "Dinner's ready," she announced. "Isabella has already gone down with Sophia. Why are you two still up here? Come join us."

The words snapped Oliver back to reality. "Right. Coming."

Alexander rose beside him.

Downstairs, Sophia was curled up on the sofa, chatting animatedly with Isabella, who listened with quiet attention. The scene radiated maternal warmth.

Yet knowing Isabella had surrendered custody without protest made the moment feel disturbingly artificial.

Unaware of the divorce, Eleanor smiled at them. "Isabella, Sophia, come eat."

"Okay," they responded in unison.

Sophia grabbed Isabella's hand, leading her toward the dining room with childish enthusiasm.

Oliver watched silently before taking his seat beside Alexander. Isabella settled next to Sophia.

Eleanor beamed at Oliver. "It's been too long since your last visit. I had the kitchen prepare your favorites—you'd better eat well tonight."

Oliver flashed a grin. "Don't worry, Grandma. I plan to devour everything."

Eleanor chuckled while Isabella meticulously removed fish bones for Sophia.

Superficially, nothing seemed amiss.

But—

Oliver couldn't shake his unease.

Noticing his stare, Isabella shot him an icy glare that froze him mid-thought.

Before, despite Alexander, Julian and himself forming an impenetrable trio, Isabella had persistently tried to ingratiate herself—awkward but determined, always greeting them with forced smiles.

Now her eyes held nothing but detached indifference. The realization hit him—her demeanor toward Sophia had shifted too.

Outwardly attentive, but the deep maternal warmth was gone. Only clinical precision remained.

He understood her coldness toward him—no one keeps courting rejection. But her own daughter? Impossible.

This had to be another scheme. Some reverse psychology play to recapture Alexander's attention.

Glancing at Alexander confirmed his theory—the man was watching Isabella with unprecedented focus. The old Alexander would never.

Oliver smirked. Just as he suspected.

Eleanor cleared her throat sharply. "Oliver, what exactly are you staring at?" Her frown indicated she'd noticed his lingering gaze.

Quickly, Oliver fed her the explanation she wanted to hear: "Isabella's unusually quiet tonight. Not even speaking to Alexander like before. I found it strange."