Chapter 515

Rosalind sat in the plush leather seat of the limousine, her fingers tapping impatiently against her phone screen. She had sent Everett three messages already—each one left on read.

Why was he ignoring her?

A cold knot twisted in her stomach.

Beside her, Alistair let out an amused chuckle. "Still no reply, I see?"

Rosalind shot him a venomous look. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Alistair threw his head back with a laugh. "I warned you—Everett isn't the type to be tamed. But if you ever figure out how to handle Julian Blackwood, you could have him eating out of your hand for life."

His usual philosophical nonsense.

Rosalind scowled. "I don't care about Julian. Why would I waste my time trying to control him? Just watch—I'll make Everett mine."

Alistair merely smirked and said nothing more.

The day of the surgery arrived.

Isabella's heart condition had always been a source of anxiety for the Whitmore family, so it was no surprise that the entire clan had gathered at the hospital.

Margaret, Theodore, Victoria, Frederick, Cassandra, and Penelope stood in solidarity around Isabella. Meanwhile, Harrison had agreed to perform the operation—a victory Margaret was determined to exploit.

Margaret smiled at Isabella. "Today is your day. We're all here for you."

Isabella basked in the attention, her lips curving into a sweet smile. "Thank you, Grandmother."

Penelope grinned. "Mr. Falcon is completely devoted to you. He's already cut ties with Harrison. Once this is over, you should marry him."

Margaret nodded. "Exactly! Soon, you'll be Mrs. Falcon."

Isabella's heart swelled with joy. She had fantasized about marrying Nathaniel countless times. Once her heart was fixed, her perfect life would finally begin.

Just then, Margaret glanced around. "Where is Harrison? Why hasn't she arrived yet?"

Victoria reassured her. "Don't worry. Oliver is still in Mr. Falcon's custody. She won't dare back out now."

A cool, melodic voice cut through the air. "Looking for me?"

All eyes turned to the doorway, where Harrison stood.

She had spent the last two days recovering, and the rest had done her well. Dressed in a crisp white lab coat, her dark hair pulled into a sleek low ponytail, she exuded calm authority.

Harrison had arrived.

Margaret's lips curled into a smug smile. "We gave you a chance to walk away, begging you to operate on Isabella, and you refused. Yet here you are, forced to comply in the end."

Penelope chimed in. "We told you—Mr. Falcon loves Isabella. Defying him was never going to end well for you. Look at you now—defeated."

They had rehearsed these taunts for days, waiting for this moment.

Isabella, clad in her hospital gown, radiated triumph. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"I trust you'll do a good job. Not that I'm worried—Nathaniel will protect me."

Gabrielle, standing beside Harrison, rolled her eyes. "Some people are just born insufferable."

Rosalind smirked. "Don't celebrate too soon, Isabella. We'll see who has the last laugh."

What did she mean?

Isabella turned to Harrison—only to meet her piercing gaze.

Harrison's eyes were calm, composed, almost pitying. As if she were looking down from some unshakable height, seeing right through Isabella's fragile bravado.