Chapter 409
The Roland mansion blazed with light as Isabella Langley stepped inside.
Servants bustled about as usual, the familiar scent of incense drifting through the grand foyer.
Yet her footsteps grew heavier with each step.
"Young Miss is home." The butler took her purse, his gaze flickering uneasily.
In the dining room, Sophia Roland arranged flowers, offering only a curt nod at her entrance.
"Mother—" Isabella began, but Sophia had already turned to discuss dinner preparations.
Julian Roland's booming laughter echoed from the second floor—until she ascended the stairs. Then silence.
Her phone vibrated. Oliver Valrose's name flashed on screen, making her fingers tremble.
"How much longer for the money?" The voice rasped like sandpaper.
She locked herself in the bathroom. Dark circles bruised the reflection staring back.
"I need more time—"
"Time? My family's company is collapsing!" Oliver's whisper turned venomous. "Remember who helped you—"
Water gushed from the faucet. She scrubbed her wrists raw, as if washing away invisible stains.
At breakfast, her silver spoon clattered to the floor.
"Young Miss?" A maid offered fresh cutlery, eyes lingering on the faint bruise circling Isabella's neck.
"Stop staring!" Isabella shoved back her chair. Milk splashed across the linen like spilled secrets.
Sophia frowned. "Compose yourself, Isabella."
"Compose myself?" Her laugh cracked. "Where was this concern when Evelyn humiliated my fiancé in public?"
Edward Roland lowered his newspaper. "Oliver brought that on himself."
"Exactly!" Alexander Roland descended the stairs. "That con artist deserves—"
"You know nothing!" Isabella hurled her napkin down. "If not for Evelyn—"
She bit her tongue. Copper flooded her mouth.
The phone rang again. Owen Valrose this time.
She fled upstairs, only answering after the lock clicked.
"Three days. Roland funds in my account." The voice could've frozen hell. "Or else—"
Knuckles rapped the door.
"Isabella?" Sophia's voice filtered through the wood. "Open up."
She deleted the call log. By the time the door opened, her eyes swam with practiced tears.
"Mother..." The sob came on cue. "Why must Evelyn destroy my happiness?"
Sophia's hand hovered, then fell. "Some people are rotten to the core."
"But—"
"End it." Edward materialized in the hallway. "I'll introduce you to better matches."
Julian leaned against the wall. "The Chamberlain heir just returned from Oxford—"
"No!" Isabella grabbed her purse and ran, vision blurred.
She missed the loaded glance her parents exchanged.
Meanwhile, atop Jadeite Mansion...
Evelyn Roland set down her phone, the butler's message still glowing: Follow Young Miss Isabella?
Her fingertip traced a surveillance photo—Oliver Valrose gambling away millions.
A frosty smile curved her lips. "Let the dominoes fall a little longer."