Chapter 24
All over the world, the only person who could ever force Isabella to back down was James. He was Charlotte's last lifeline.
Charlotte didn't even bother changing clothes. She grabbed an oversized trench coat and threw it over her silk pajamas, hiding the mess she looked like, then bolted out of her apartment in a panic.
Meanwhile, at the top floor of Northstar Architecture's headquarters in Tech Harbor, sunlight streamed through the enormous floor‑to‑ceiling windows, flooding the spacious office with a cold, polished brightness. Isabella sat in a black leather executive chair, a cup of hot black coffee resting loosely in her hand.
Three thick file folders lay neatly arranged in front of her.
"Ms. Tudor," the senior partner from Northstar Architecture's legal department said as he placed a signed receipt on the table. Admiration warmed his otherwise professional tone.
"The complaint has been formally submitted. The local court considers the matter serious and has already accepted the filing. If nothing unexpected happens, Charlotte will receive the summons by this afternoon. With a case built this thoroughly, even the best attorney in the country won't be able to get her out unscathed."
Isabella set down her cup and flipped through a nearby folder, the faint curve at her lips colder than the metal binding the pages.
She had never been anyone's punching bag.
Last night, when those fabricated rumors exploded across the internet, she hadn't let a single emotion slip at the Mexican restaurant.
But once she got home and tucked Chloe into bed, she immediately contacted a top‑tier hacker she'd known since college.
The PR studio thought their cover‑up was flawless. It wasn't. In front of a real expert, their so‑called firewall was as fragile as wet paper.
Within three hours, every bank transfer, every chat log, even an audio file of Charlotte bragging over the phone—all of it was sitting in Isabella's inbox.
Looking at those evidences, she recalled how Charlotte, behind a gentle and kind mask, had gradually gained her son's trust over the past six years in The Sinclair Family. She also remembered how Charlotte, through underhanded tactics, had forced Isabella—a genius who should have soared high in the sky—to waste away amid the fumes and grime of the kitchen.
Inside Isabella, there was nothing but an icy stillness.
"Well done," Isabella said, lifting her gaze. Her eyes were cool, sharp, unwavering. "No settlements. No mediation. I don't just want her reputation destroyed. I want her to live every day terrified of the consequences she brought on herself."
"Understood," the partner replied, before stepping out of the office.
When the door clicked shut, Isabella leaned back in her chair and let out a long, deliberate breath. She turned toward the skyline stretching beyond Tech Harbor.
This time, she hadn't relied on anyone.
That was when her phone buzzed. Isabella glanced at the screen. Her calm expression tightened.
An hour earlier, in Novaria, inside The Sinclair Group headquarters.
The door to the president's office had slammed open without warning, bypassing the secretary entirely.
James stood before the glass window, a half‑burned cigarette between his fingers. At the sound of the intrusion, he turned, his expression collapsing into a shadow of thunderous rage.
"James!" Charlotte stumbled inside, nearly tripping over her own unsteady feet.
Her clothes were wrinkled, her face bare of makeup, swollen and red from crying. The refined, elegant socialite she usually played had vanished without a trace.
She rushed toward James, clutching his arm with both hands before her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the thick wool carpet, sobbing uncontrollably.
"James! Please! You have to save me!" She cried, gripping the fabric of his trousers so tightly her knuckles went white. Tears streamed down her face in relentless bursts, her whole body shaking with despair.
James's expression remained stone‑cold. There was no pity in his eyes—only disgust and an icy, unfiltered contempt.
Just an hour ago, he had ordered Jasper's account locked and had the tech department dig into the account's backend logs from the past several years.
What they found was damning. Every attempt Isabella had ever made to contact her son—every message, every effort—had been blocked and erased by Charlotte.
Every time Isabella had tried to reach out, Charlotte had cut the connection clean.
While pretending to be warm and understanding, time and time again she had drained the life out of a broken family like a parasite.
"Let go."
"James, I was wrong! I know I shouldn't have had those things posted online last night, but I was desperate!"
Instead of letting go, Charlotte clung tighter, scrambling backward as if cornered, her excuses becoming more frantic.
"You were so harsh to me in front of Jasper, and I panicked! I was scared you'd choose Isabella over me again. I was scared she'd take Jasper away! I only did it because I love you—because I care about both of you too much!"
"I only asked the studio to release minor negative posts, I swear! I had no idea they'd forge a letter accusing her of academic fraud—it wasn't me! They added that on their own!"
"You think I'm an idiot?"
James yanked his arm free, sending Charlotte sprawling across the carpet with a sharp, pained cry.
He stared down at her from above, his eyes so dark and vicious she began trembling uncontrollably.
"Not only did you smear Isabella last night, you thought I'd never look into the filth you pulled in The Sinclair Family for the past six years?"
He bent down and grabbed her chin, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp as tears spilled again.
"Who threw out the sweater Isabella knitted for Jasper and told him it was cheap garbage? Who twisted the doctor's instructions when he had a fever, making him fear his own mother's care?"
"Charlotte, if you had any humanity, you wouldn't still be standing in this world."
The blood drained from Charlotte's face. Pain shot through her jaw, but she hardly noticed—she was too terrified to feel anything else.
"James… I know I was wrong. I swear I do…"
She ignored the pain and scrambled upright, grabbing his leg again, her sobs breaking into raw, jagged sounds.
"But Isabella filed a lawsuit against me! The summons is coming today! If I'm convicted, I'll go to prison! My reputation will be destroyed! James, you can't just abandon me!"
James stared down at her with a cold, bitter smile. "You made your bed. Now lie in it. If you had the guts to do these things, have the guts to face the consequences."
He turned toward his desk, ready to call security and have her dragged out.
That was the moment Charlotte snapped.
She knew begging wouldn't work anymore, and had no choice but to play her final card.
"James! Do you even have a conscience?"