Chapter 446

Harrison offered a graceful nod.

Nathaniel watched, realization dawning. This was why she always called Alistair by his first name—he was her apprentice.

Harrison was Dr. Sinclair.

"Dr. Sinclair, after Westfield, you went to Santorina to develop a plague vaccine. Then you vanished. What happened?"

"Yes, you disappeared for three years. What were you doing?"

The crowd was fascinated.

Harrison smirked. "I got married."

"Married? To whom?"

Her piercing gaze briefly met Nathaniel's before she looked away. "At the time, he was a vegetable."

"A vegetable? You married a man in a coma?"

She smiled. "He's perfectly healthy now."

Nathaniel's chest tightened. She had saved him.

He had always wondered how he recovered when even doctors gave up on him. Isabella had left, but Harrison stayed—married to him for three years.

Now he knew. It was her.

"You must be very happy together," someone remarked.

Harrison laughed lightly. "Actually, we're divorced."

Shocked murmurs erupted. "Why? He must be insane!"

She shrugged. "It's in the past."

Rosalind linked arms with her. "Exactly. His loss."

She shot Nathaniel a pointed look.

The crowd buzzed. "That man had no idea how lucky he was."

Alistair chuckled. "Plenty of worthy men would be honored to have her attention. Right, Mr. Falcon?"

Nathaniel had nothing to say.

"Mr. Falcon, perhaps you could introduce her to someone suitable?" Rosalind teased.

Before he could answer, she added, "Just joking. Dr. Sinclair has suitors lined up from here to Francais. No help needed."

Nathaniel stood there, the target of their amusement.

As the crowd dispersed, he approached Harrison. "Thank you."

She arched a brow. "For curing your coma?"

He nodded.

Rosalind scoffed. "That's all? When you were a vegetable, Isabella ran, but Harrison stayed. Dr. Sinclair gave up her career for three years—for you."