Chapter 353

The call with Sophia ended abruptly. Isabella stared at her phone screen for a long moment before setting it down. Exactly twelve minutes later, Alexander's text arrived.

Just two lines. A time. An address. No pleasantries. No explanations.

Isabella arrived at the elite fencing academy thirty minutes early the next morning. She watched through the glass doors as a black sedan pulled up exactly four minutes before the scheduled time.

Only the driver emerged with Sophia. Alexander was conspicuously absent.

"Mommy!" Sophia's face lit up when she spotted Isabella waiting. Small fingers immediately tangled with hers, pulling her toward the entrance.

The buzzing of her phone interrupted them. Nathaniel's name flashed on the screen.

"One moment, sweetheart." Isabella squeezed Sophia's hand. "I need to take this."

Sophia nodded eagerly. "I'll go find Coach Ethan!"

The call was brief - just routine updates about their joint tech venture. By the time Isabella hung up, Sophia hadn't gone far.

Coach Ethan was kneeling to tie his shoe when he spotted Sophia. "Miss Whitmore! You're early today." His eyes darted around. "No Mr. Whitmore or Ms. Kensington?"

Sophia beamed. "Mommy brought me today!"

Isabella froze in the doorway. The words hung between them like an unspoken challenge.

The coach's gaze snapped to Isabella, his expression shifting to polite surprise. "You must be Mrs. Whitmore?"

"Mom!" Sophia corrected loudly, bouncing on her toes.

"Ah." Understanding dawned in Coach Ethan's eyes as he extended a hand. "My apologies. Sophia's mother, then."

Isabella accepted the handshake. She could see the calculations happening behind the coach's professional smile. The assumptions forming. The conclusions being drawn.

For months, it had always been Alexander or Victoria - sometimes both - accompanying Sophia to lessons. The coach knew Victoria was Alexander's current... companion. But not the child's mother.

The natural assumption? Divorce. Or worse.

Isabella watched the moment Coach Ethan decided to tiptoe around the elephant in the room. Instead, he launched into praise. "Sophia shows remarkable promise. With her current progress, she could easily place in the top three at next month's regional championship."

Before Isabella could respond, Sophia tugged her sleeve. "Mommy, come help me change!"

The private changing room smelled of leather and antiseptic. Isabella helped Sophia into her protective gear, adjusting each strap with meticulous care. The white fencing jacket made her daughter look impossibly small yet strangely formidable.

When training began, Isabella leaned against the observation window. Coach Ethan had been an Olympic medalist in his prime. His instruction was crisp, precise, demanding.

But Sophia - Sophia was revelation.

Her footwork was lightning quick. Each lunge carried surprising power for someone so small. The way she parried attacks showed reflexes bordering on precognitive. There was an elegance to her movements that went beyond training - something innate.

For one dizzying moment, Isabella could see her daughter years from now, standing atop some international podium, foil raised in victory.

A future she wouldn't be part of.

After thirty-seven minutes of intense drills, Sophia came bounding over, cheeks flushed. "Did you see, Mommy? Did you see me?"

Isabella took the proffered towel, dabbing at Sophia's damp forehead. "You were magnificent."

Coach Ethan approached, wiping his own brow. "She's a natural."

"Thank you for your guidance." Isabella kept her tone even. "Though I suspect her talent would shine under any coach."

The man chuckled. "True enough. But credit where it's due - Mr. Whitmore had her well-trained before she ever walked through our doors."