Chapter 448

The tension in the room was palpable as Harrison stood frozen, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Nathaniel's dark eyes bore into hers, unreadable as always.

Isabella smirked from her perch on the armchair, twirling a strand of her perfectly styled hair.

"You always were too naive, Harrison," she drawled, her voice dripping with condescension.

Harrison clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

The betrayal cut deeper than she could have imagined.

Nathaniel remained silent, his expression giving nothing away.

Gabrielle had warned her about this.

She should have listened.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, each second stretching into eternity.

Harrison took a shaky breath.

"Was any of it real?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Nathaniel's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

Isabella laughed, the sound sharp and mocking.

"Of course not," she said, rolling her eyes. "Did you really think someone like him would ever love someone like you?"

Harrison flinched as if struck.

The truth was a knife twisting in her gut.

She had been a fool.

A pawn in their twisted game.

Nathaniel finally spoke, his voice cold and detached.

"It's over, Harrison."

Those three words shattered what was left of her heart.

She turned on her heel and fled, tears blurring her vision.

The grand doors of Rosewood Manor slammed shut behind her with finality.

Outside, the rain poured down in sheets, mirroring her devastation.

Harrison didn't look back.

She couldn't.

Not when every memory was now tainted with lies.

The sleek black car idling at the curb was her only escape.

Sebastian leaned against it, his expression grim.

"I tried to warn you," he said quietly as she approached.

Harrison didn't respond.

There was nothing left to say.

She slid into the passenger seat, her entire body numb.

As the car pulled away, she caught one last glimpse of Nathaniel through the rain-streaked window.

He was still standing there, watching her leave.

And for the briefest moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes.

Regret?

Pain?

Or was that just another illusion?

Harrison closed her eyes, letting the darkness swallow her whole.

The game was over.

But the war had just begun.

Harrison's lips curved into a subtle smile as she addressed Alistair. "I've been told for some time that Penelope is one of your most promising students."

With effortless grace, Harrison settled into the plush chair, her piercing gaze locking onto Penelope. "By academic hierarchy, Penelope should technically be my grand-apprentice. Therefore, I'd like her to serve me wine."

She sat regally at the center of attention, her expression a perfect balance of amusement and challenge as she observed Penelope's reaction. The younger woman felt her carefully constructed pride crumbling under Harrison's calculated words.

"Very well. Bring the wine," Alistair commanded.

A maid appeared moments later with an ornate decanter. Alistair turned to his student. "Penelope, serve Dr. Sinclair her wine. And address her properly as 'Grand-mentor'."

Penelope stood frozen, her limbs refusing to cooperate.

Harrison's smile turned predatory. "Why the hesitation? Come here."

A guest nearby chuckled. "Penelope, having Dr. Sinclair as your grand-mentor is an extraordinary honor. Don't keep her waiting."

Margaret and Victoria stood silently behind Penelope, their faces drained of color, clearly too intimidated to intervene.

With visible reluctance, Penelope accepted the crystal glass and approached Harrison. "Dr. Sinclair, your wine."

Her voice wavered dangerously, barely containing her humiliation.

Harrison recalled Penelope's previous arrogance and cruelty. Instead of accepting the glass, she tilted her head. "Is this how you show respect? When that imposter pretended to be me, I tried warning you, but you wouldn't listen. At minimum, you should bow while offering the wine."

She commanded the gesture with icy precision.

Penelope's vision blurred with unshed tears, the sting of public humiliation cutting deeper than any physical wound. The prestigious image she'd cultivated for years disintegrated under Harrison's quiet dominance. She'd become nothing more than a cautionary tale.

Why was fate so cruel?

Her lips trembled as she slowly lowered herself, her pride in tatters. Forcing her spine to bend, she bowed before Harrison.

The glass shook in her hands as she raised it. "Grand-master, your wine."

Margaret, Isabella, and Victoria watched in stunned silence, their complexions matching the white tablecloths. Harrison's gaze remained frosty yet controlled.

"As physicians, we must practice humility alongside our skills. Arrogance inevitably leads to downfall. Remember - there will always be someone more capable, and excessive pride invites correction. Let this be your lesson."

Each word struck like a scalpel's edge. Penelope's tears fell freely now, each droplet marking another piece of her shattered dignity.

Twenty years of cultivated superiority evaporated under Harrison's merciless scrutiny.

She was no longer the accomplished professional - just a humiliated spectacle.

Why? Why her?

Penelope's whisper cracked. "I understand."

Finally, Harrison accepted the glass, taking a measured sip. "You may go."

Penelope straightened mechanically and retreated to the periphery.

A guest suddenly noticed Margaret. "Mrs. Whitmore! Isn't Dr. Sinclair your granddaughter? You must be so proud to have such an exceptional physician in the family."

Margaret could only manage a strained smile, her silence more telling than any response.

For years, she'd considered Isabella and Penelope the Whitmore family's crowning achievements. Yet standing beside Harrison, they appeared utterly insignificant by comparison.

Yes, Harrison was remarkable - but she wasn't truly a Whitmore.

Another guest recognized Victoria.

"Mrs. Whitmore! This makes Dr. Sinclair your daughter. How did you manage to raise someone so extraordinary?"

"Mrs. Whitmore, your genetics must be exceptional! Share your secrets with us!"