Chapter 321

Nathaniel's fingers hovered over his phone screen.

[Are you back at Willowridge?]

He needed to know if Harrison had returned safely. The thought of Lucas Harrington driving her home made his jaw clench.

Then his screen flashed.

A notification appeared.

[Message failed to send. You are not friends with this contact.]

His expression darkened.

She had blocked him.

Actually, she'd blocked him the day their divorce was finalized.

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

It was over.

She had loved him once—fiercely, passionately. But that was in the past.

"Nathaniel, I don't love you anymore."

Her voice, soft but firm, echoed in his mind. She had said it to his face.

He opened her profile.

Her username had changed from H to Harrison.

He sent a friend request.

No response.

She didn’t accept.

A melodic ringtone interrupted his thoughts.

Isabella.

She was calling.

Nathaniel didn’t answer.

A bitter smile curved his lips as shadows played across his sharp features.

At the Whitmore estate...

Isabella screamed in frustration when Nathaniel ignored her call.

She grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it against the wall.

Glass shattered everywhere.

Theodore and Victoria rushed in.

Victoria immediately reached for her daughter.

"Isabella! Stop! You’ll cut yourself!"

Isabella shoved her away.

"This is your fault! Why did you have Harrison? Why is she so perfect? Grandmother adores her now! Nathaniel won’t even answer my calls! I hate her!"

Victoria stood frozen, heartbroken.

Theodore stepped forward.

"Sweetheart, calm down. You know your heart can’t take this stress."

"But Dad!" Isabella sobbed. "Harrison was just some nobody! She dropped out at sixteen, and now she’s some genius! What if Nathaniel falls for her? Eleanor already dislikes me! And Gabrielle Lincoln hates me now! When will I finally marry Nathaniel?"

Theodore pulled her into a hug.

"Don’t worry. We’ll make it happen. You will marry Nathaniel Hawk."

Isabella stormed to her room and collapsed onto the bed.

Theodore returned to the living room, where the maids had already cleaned up the broken glass.

The news played on the TV.

"Billionaire Henry Lancaster has returned to the capital after years abroad. He was spotted yesterday at Queenswood Cemetery. The world’s richest man continues his decades-long search for his missing daughter."

The screen cut to a rainy cemetery.

A tall, distinguished man stood silently before a gravestone. His butler held a black umbrella over him.

Raindrops slid off the fabric, obscuring his face.

The somber scene held an air of haunting mystery.