Chapter 70

The world truly worked in mysterious ways.

"I'm delighted you made it, Nathan," Isabella cooed, reaching for his hand only to have him skillfully evade her touch.

"Business associates to attend to," Nathan stated curtly, already turning away without a backward glance.

Isabella's nails dug into her palms. Two entire months in Frenda without so much as a phone call from him. Not even for the sake of their unborn child.

When she turned back from watching Nathan's retreating figure, her breath caught. Evelyn stood mere feet away, accompanied by an elegant older woman who carried herself with quiet dignity.

Isabella deliberately smoothed her dress over her pronounced bump, approaching with the air of a queen confronting her usurper.

"You again? Do you have some sort of tracking device on me?" Isabella sneered.

Evelyn didn't bother looking up. "I was about to ask you the same question."

The pregnant woman's smile turned venomous. "How pathetic. You couldn't wait to sign those divorce papers, yet here you are, haunting him like some lovesick specter—"

"Is this the homewrecker who destroyed your marriage, darling?" Beatrice cut in, eyeing Isabella with open disdain.

"Watch your tongue, grandma," Isabella snapped.

Beatrice's perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "Grandma? Gracie, do I look like someone's grandmother to you?"

As the founder of ME Cosmetics, Beatrice Whitmore had access to every anti-aging secret known to mankind. Most mistook her for Harrison's older sister rather than his mother.

"You're breathtaking, Aunt Beatrice," Evelyn said smoothly. "Some people just have the manners of a backalley cat."

She added with deliberate nonchalance, "And for the record, Nathan Sterling is about as appealing to me as yesterday's garbage. Your insecurity is showing."

Isabella's face darkened. "You little—"

"We're in polite company," Evelyn interrupted, still examining the exhibition pieces. "Walk away now, and I might forget this ever happened."

"This isn't your personal property," Isabella scoffed.

Beatrice stepped forward, her smile razor-sharp. "Actually, that's exactly what it is."

"Impossible!" Isabella laughed derisively. "This is Sunny's exclusive collection. What would two nobodies like you know about high art?"

She advanced, malice dripping from every word. "From what I hear, you're just some orphaned country bumpkin who got lucky bedding a CEO. Stop pretending to be something you're not."

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Beatrice's usually warm eyes turned glacial. "Repeat that. I dare you."

Evelyn grasped her arm. "She's not worth it, Aunt Beatrice."

But the older woman shook her off. She could tolerate personal insults, but no one disparaged her goddaughter.

Isabella smirked at her reaction. "What? Did I hit a nerve? Everyone knows the truth—she's just a gold-digging whore, and you're some peasant aunt tagging along for free vacations."

Her voice turned saccharine. "Better take lots of pictures. They'll be the only luxury you'll ever—"

"APOLOGIZE!" Beatrice's command cracked through the gallery like thunder.

"Make me," Isabella taunted. "You raised this gutter trash, and now you want to play offended?"

Something in Beatrice snapped. In one fluid motion, she seized Isabella by the collar and slammed her against the nearest wall with surprising strength.