Chapter 58
The distant background of the photo just happened to catch a sliver of the man's shirt sleeve. Even though it was only a blurred outline, Isabella recognized him in an instant. It was James.
For one brief second, the three people in that picture looked like the real family.
[Ms. Tudor, did you see this photo? Jasper can't live without me, and James still chose to stay by my side. For me, he personally buried all of Sophia's statements. Isabella, in the Sinclair Family, you can't win. You don't deserve to win.]
Isabella stared at the screen for two seconds, then the corner of her mouth hooked into a cold, mocking smile.
"Always the same tricks," she said.
She set down her black coffee, and her fingers flew over the screen.
She didn't curse back. She didn't ask any questions. Her face stayed blank as she hit forward. Recipient: James.
Then Isabella pressed and held the screen without a flicker of hesitation.
[Delete.]
[Block this number.]
[Block: James.]
Her movements were clean, decisive, without a trace of reluctance. Once she was done, she picked up the geological survey report again, her expression flat and distant, as if she had just cleared out a junk email.
Men, their favors, the pity of people in power?
In Isabella's eyes now, all of that wasn't worth as much as a rejected design draft.
Meanwhile, at Novaria Private Hospital.
James was sitting in a row of plastic chairs along the corridor, his brows knotted so hard they almost met. The unlit cigar between his fingers was bent nearly in half.
The vibration of his phone sounded harsh in the quiet hallway.
He swiped the screen, and his pupils tightened.
It was the photo Isabella had forwarded.
And after that, no matter how many times he tried to call, all he heard was the cold, mechanical message, "We're sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable."
Yeah. He'd been blocked.
A wave of scorching frustration slammed into him, flooding every nerve. He stood up, the chill rolling off him so intense that a passing nurse nearly dropped her tray.
He kicked open the wooden door of the ICU. The crash made Jasper shift restlessly in his bed.
Charlotte had been basking in the quiet, secret thrill of a plan well executed. When she looked up and saw James's storm-dark face, she jolted up from her chair in shock.
"James, what's wrong?" She asked.
She tried to sound calm, but her fingertips still trembled from excitement.
James strode toward her, long steps eating up the distance, and shoved his phone right in front of her face.
"Charlotte, who gave you the nerve to send this crap to Isabella?" he said.
His voice was low, like a volcano trying and failing to keep its lava down, the danger in it enough to burn everything in its path.
The second Charlotte saw the screen, the color drained from her face. She had planned for everything, or so she thought, but she had never imagined Isabella would refuse to argue, refuse to plead, and instead just toss the evidence straight back to James.
"I…I just…" Her mind spun, and tears came on cue. "I just wanted her to see reality. I wanted her to stop coming back and destroying our family. James, I did it for Jasper! If she comes back and takes you away, what happens to Jasper?"
"For Jasper?" James let out a mirthless laugh, his eyes full of disbelief.
"Charlotte, do you really think I'm some idiot you can twist and mold any way you like? You drugged our kid to force my hand, and now you go running to Isabella to show off your filthy victory?"
He stared at the woman sobbing prettily in front of him and felt, for the first time, a deep, bone-deep exhaustion settle in.
It was the weight of a life debt wrapped around his throat. It was the vulnerability that came with blood ties.
Charlotte seemed to sense that flicker of weakness, and she pounced on it. She dropped to her knees in front of him, clinging to his pant leg.
"I was wrong. I know I was wrong. James, I just love you too much. I can't lose the Sinclair Family. I can't lose you and Jasper," she cried. "As long as you let me stay, I don't care if I'm never official. I don't care if I spend the rest of my life as your live-in help, taking care of you both. I'll do it gladly."
"Enough," James said.
He yanked his leg out of her grasp, his eyes going still, the last trace of emotion draining away.
"Charlotte, what would it take for you to finally behave?" He asked.
He sounded deadly serious. The words themselves were a bitter joke.
"I already humiliated myself in front of the one woman I owe most in this world, for you. I threw away the last of my pride. What more do you want? Do you want me to become a complete bastard who doesn't know right from wrong?"
Charlotte's sobs hitched. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Take your scheming and get out of my sight," James said.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pounding in his temples.
"Until Jasper is discharged, you stay in the hospital room. After that, I'll have you sent to the Sinclair Family's house out by the suburbs. You'll be staying there," he said.
"James, no, you can't lock me up!" Charlotte cried.
"Get out!" He shouted.
The violence in his voice shook her. Her legs went weak, and she crumpled, then finally pushed herself up and shuffled toward the door. Under Chase's cold, expressionless stare, she looked like a beaten stray dog as she slipped out of the room.
In the hallway, a doctor walked over with several lab reports in hand.
"Mr. Sinclair," he said.
James took a long breath, forcing down the surge of nausea in his chest. When he turned around, the savage anger in his eyes was gone. What remained was the heavy weight of a father.
"Well?" He said. "What did you find?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses, his face grave.
"We've identified the residual compounds in Jasper's system," he said. "The dosage was calculated very carefully, not enough to be lethal, but this kind of chemical agent can cause serious negative stimulation to a young child's nervous system. In other words, it creates dependency."
James's pupils tightened again.
"You're saying the reason Jasper clings to Charlotte is a side effect of the drug?" He asked.
The doctor nodded, then shook his head.
"The drug was the trigger. The rest is psychological," he said. "When Jasper was in the worst pain, the first person he saw was Ms. Johnson. So in his subconscious, he connected her with relief. Mr. Sinclair, that kind of addiction is hard to break."
James looked at the small, fragile boy lying in the hospital bed. A cold chill shot up from the floor, straight through his spine.
To protect herself, Charlotte had actually done this to a six-year-old child. She'd destroyed his foundation, his very sense of safety.
And him? He had let a supposed life-saving favor blind him. Just hours earlier, he had pushed the real mother, the one who truly loved that child, even farther away.
He let out a bitter, humorless laugh and pulled out his phone again. He tapped on Isabella's profile.
Her avatar was gray now, a blank, lifeless icon that seemed to mock his arrogance.
[You are no longer in this person's contacts.]
The bright red exclamation mark on the screen hit him like a slap. For the first time, James felt something like absurdity flood him.
In the business world of the Amber District, he was a god, a man whose single nod could determine fortunes. People chased his shadow, begged for his attention, fought for his favor.
But now, a woman who had once looked at him like he was her whole world had cut him out of her life as easily as tossing out a piece of trash.
"Mr. Sinclair, the plane tickets and deportation paperwork are ready," Chase said as he stepped into the room. His voice was low, careful not to wake Jasper, who had just fallen asleep.
"Send her off," James said. "For the rest of my life, I don't want to see her anywhere near the Amber District."
"Yes, Mr. Sinclair," Chase replied. "Ms. Johnson wanted to make a scene at first, but when she heard that if she stayed, you'd reopen the investigation into Ethan's death, she shut up."
He hesitated, "And the remaining assets of the Johnson Family?" he asked.
"Crush them," James said. "Leave nothing behind."