Chapter 410

Julian Montgomery's jaw tightened when Isabelle called Eleanor a dummy. The harshness in her voice cut through him like a blade.

To him, Isabelle had always been radiant—a little spoiled, perhaps, but inherently kind.

Now, her crimson eyes burned with fury, her hatred for Eleanor so palpable it seemed to darken the air between them.

Was it because he had spent the evening with Eleanor?

Julian had been with countless women over the years, yet Isabelle had never reacted like this. Why did she despise Eleanor so much?

"Julian, you're yelling at me over that—that idiot!" Isabelle's face paled as his piercing glare locked onto her. A cold sweat broke across her skin.

"Eleanor is not an idiot," Julian said, his voice dangerously low. "If I hear that word from you again, Isabelle, I won't be so forgiving."

He exhaled sharply, his chest heavy with disappointment. "You were too young to remember when Father died. Mother was drowning in family affairs, and I was the one who fed you, played with you, even changed your diapers. How could you say I don’t care about you?" His voice cracked. "Hearing that from you—it hurts more than you know."

"Julian—" Isabelle's voice trembled.

"I do care. But we're adults now. The way I show it has changed, and you refuse to see it." His gaze darkened. "What I don’t understand is why you hate Eleanor so much. What has she ever done to you?"

"I just don’t like her! She’s not good enough for you!" Isabelle blurted, scrambling for an excuse.

Julian's expression hardened. "You don’t get to decide who deserves me, Isabelle. Eleanor is Nathan Blackwood’s sister—her status is no less than ours. And even if she had nothing, no one could stop me from being with the woman I choose."

With that declaration, he turned and walked away, leaving Isabelle seething behind him.

A week had passed since Isabella Wang terminated her contract with Monarch Grand Hotels.

Theodore Winslow rubbed his temples in frustration. "Ms. Carter, we’ve monitored the entire team, but there’s been no movement. Maybe there’s no mole after all."

Evelyn Carter didn’t look up from her game. "No one’s reached out to Vivian Prescott?"

"Nothing suspicious."

A smirk curled her lips as she obliterated the last zombie on-screen. The gory explosion made Theodore wince. "Then we’ll have to lure the fish out. Call an emergency meeting with the wedding team—now."

Thirty minutes later, eight staff members filed into the conference room.

Evelyn strode in ten minutes late, her demeanor unbothered despite the failed contract. "Apologies for the delay. Urgent matters."

She took her seat at the head of the table, scanning each face with calculated ease. "I’ve revised the wedding plan. Isabella Wang will reconsider working with us."

Gasps of excitement filled the room. "Really? That’s incredible, Ms. Carter!"

Evelyn’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as she studied them. Then she noticed it—Julian Whitmore, one of the planners, had gone rigid.

He cleared his throat. "Ms. Carter, hasn’t Isabella already signed with Blackwood Industries? At this stage, can we really sway her back?"

Evelyn tapped her fingers against the table, her gaze sharpening. "Oh? Where did you hear she chose Blackwood Industries? That’s news to me."

The room fell silent.

Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Got you.