Chapter 501

Nathaniel's brow furrowed as he shook his head in disbelief. "It can't be Isabella."

Eleanor let out a derisive snort. "Do you really have that much faith in her?"

"This isn't about faith," Nathaniel countered sharply, his tone unyielding. "It's about motive. The child Harrison is carrying belongs to Oliver. Isabella has no quarrel with Oliver. Why would she go to such lengths to eliminate his child? Does that make any sense to you?"

Eleanor's gaze sharpened, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "True, Isabella wouldn't have a reason to harm Oliver's child—unless, of course, the child Harrison is carrying isn't actually Oliver's, right?"

Nathaniel stiffened, the implication sinking in. His eyes flickered between Eleanor and Rosalind, confusion darkening his expression.

"What exactly are you implying?"

Both women were well aware of Nathaniel's misconception regarding the child. He had always believed it wasn't his.

Now, they decided it was time for him to uncover the truth on his own.

"We're not implying anything," Eleanor replied smoothly, her voice laced with quiet certainty. "The truth speaks for itself. Question the kidnappers and the doctor. Find out who's truly orchestrating this. If it turns out to be Isabella, you might want to reconsider who the father of that child really is."

With that, Eleanor and Rosalind stepped into the hospital room, leaving Nathaniel rooted in place.

A sharp realization struck him. He wasn't a fool—he understood the unspoken suggestion that the child was his.

But how?

He had seen the pregnancy report. The timeline didn't add up.

Alistair cast him a sidelong glance. "You're an intelligent man. How did emotion cloud your judgment so thoroughly?"

Nathaniel didn't answer. Instead, his voice turned icy as he muttered, "I'm going to find out who's really behind this."

Nathaniel strode into the dimly lit interrogation room where the kidnappers and the doctor were bound, crouched on the floor. The moment they saw him, fear flashed in their eyes.

Everyone knew Nathaniel—the most powerful man in Willowbrook. His reputation was unshakable.

Dominic pulled out a chair for him. Nathaniel sat, his piercing gaze sweeping over the prisoners like a blade.

"So," he began, voice dangerously calm, "who's the mastermind? I hear none of you are willing to talk."

Silence.

Dominic handed him several manila envelopes. Nathaniel took one, casually flipping it open and extracting the first file.

"Ethan Blackwood, from Pinecrest. You have an eight-year-old daughter, just started first grade, correct?"

Ethan's face paled, panic lacing his voice. "M-Mr. Hawk, please—she's just a child! Don't involve her! I beg you, don't hurt her!"

Nathaniel opened another envelope, this time pulling out a document on Dr. Julian Whitmore.

"Dr. Whitmore, a medical doctor with a PhD. Former chief physician at a prestigious hospital. But you've been accepting bribes, performing illegal procedures. If this gets out, your career is over."

Julian trembled, immediately dropping to his knees. "Mr. Hawk, forgive me! I made a terrible mistake! I never meant to cross you—I swear, if I'd known you were involved, I wouldn't have dared!"

Nathaniel's cold gaze swept over them, his expression unreadable. A faint, chilling smile touched his lips—one that barely qualified as amusement.

"I have everything on you—your weaknesses, your secrets. I'm not here to offer mercy. If you were bold enough to commit a crime, you should be prepared to face the consequences." His voice dropped lower, laced with steel. "But I'll give you one chance. The first one to tell me who's behind this walks free."

A beat of silence.

Then, his tone turned lethal. "Remember—only one of you gets that privilege."