Chapter 395

Harrison stood in the doorway, reminding them sharply of why they'd come. They were here to beg.

Victoria, Isabella, and Penelope froze, their earlier arrogance evaporating. The proud stances they'd held moments ago collapsed like a house of cards.

Harrison's hand moved to shut the door again.

Margaret spoke first. "Wait! Please don't close it. We're here to ask for your help. Will you help us?" Her head bowed first.

Harrison arched an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over the others.

Frederick and Cassandra from the third branch followed suit, their heads lowering in unison. "We were wrong before. For the sake of family, please help us," they murmured.

Theodore also bent at the waist. "Let's not make this worse between us. We're asking for your assistance."

Harrison's piercing stare landed on Victoria.

Victoria resisted. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. How had Harrison, the girl they'd discarded, become this untouchable genius? How did she end up with luxury cars and mansions while they'd been swindled onto the streets?

Margaret's warning glare forced Victoria's hand. Reluctantly, she bowed. "Harrison, I'm sorry. You're still a Whitmore. Please help us."

Harrison turned her attention to Isabella and Penelope.

Penelope lowered her head. "Harrison, please."

Isabella ground her teeth so hard her jaw ached. "Help us," she forced out.

Harrison's sharp eyes pinned Isabella in place. "Isabella, I didn't catch that. Could you repeat it louder?"

She was making her say it again.

Isabella nearly exploded. "You—!"

Margaret yanked Isabella's arm, cutting her off.

Isabella looked up to see Harrison standing there—poised, elegant, amusement dancing in her eyes as she watched Isabella struggle.

The humiliation burned. Isabella raised her voice. "Harrison. Please help us."

A faint smile curled Harrison's lips. The irony wasn't lost on her. The once-mighty Whitmores, who'd wanted nothing more than to crush her, now bowed before her one by one.

Then Harrison looked up and saw him—Nathaniel.

She hadn't noticed his return. He stood opposite her now, observing the scene with calm detachment.

Their eyes locked.

Isabella spotted Nathaniel and rushed forward. "Nathaniel!"

"Mr. Falcon."

He strode toward them with effortless grace, his tall frame commanding the space.

Isabella grabbed his arm, pressing close with a pout. "Nathaniel, now you see Harrison's true colors! She's making us grovel. We're family—how can she be so heartless and petty?"

Harrison almost laughed. Family? She felt no kinship with these people. Nathaniel's opinion meant nothing to her. She met his gaze squarely. "Mr. Falcon."

Nathaniel studied Harrison's face. "Now that they've asked, will you deal with the fake Dr. Sinclair for them?"

"Yes, Harrison, we've asked. You'll help now, won't you?" Margaret pressed.

Harrison's smile widened. "I can help. But I have one condition."