Chapter 522

Isabella wasn't faking it this time. The pain in her chest was real, her forehead slick with icy sweat.

But Nathaniel didn't even glance her way. She felt like the girl who cried wolf—utterly abandoned, discarded without a second thought.

Harrison stepped forward, her gaze cold and disdainful as she looked down at Isabella. "Stop deluding yourself. There was never going to be any surgery."

Isabella's mind raced. "I see now! This was all part of your plan. You knew I was impersonating you. You pretended to agree to the surgery just to bring Dr. Nathaniel Graves here and expose me, didn't you?"

Harrison's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Not entirely stupid, I see. Yes, today was my design. I wanted to rip off your mask and reveal the truth about what happened all those years ago."

Isabella's eyes widened. "You're ruthless! You're still a Whitmore! How could you do this to me?"

Harrison let out a sharp, venomous laugh. "Ruthless? A Whitmore? Now you care about family? What about everything you've done to me? You can hurt me, but I can't fight back?"

Margaret rushed forward, tears in her eyes. "Harrison, please, I'm your grandmother—"

"Enough," Harrison cut her off sharply. "I don't need a grandmother like you. You should stick to being Isabella's grandmother."

With a frigid glare, Harrison swept her sharp gaze over the faces of the Whitmore family, one by one.

"I've said it before: I want the people who killed my father to turn themselves in and spend the rest of their lives rotting in prison. Otherwise, I won't stop."

Her words landed like a hammer, draining the color from the Whitmores' faces.

Just then, Oliver stepped forward, his voice soft but firm. "Don't forget, you're pregnant. Don't get too worked up. Let me take you somewhere to rest."

Harrison nodded, though her expression remained tense. "Fine."

She turned and followed Oliver as they walked away.

Rosalind and Gabrielle exchanged glances before looking at Nathaniel.

"Well, you decide how to deal with them."

A chill shot through Isabella's heart. "Nathaniel, I know I was wrong! Please, don't be cruel. I'm begging you!"

Nathaniel glared at her with pure disgust. "I never want to see you again. Take her away!"

Two black-clad bodyguards immediately seized Isabella.

Victoria and Theodore panicked. "Mr. Falcon, don't take Isabella! Her condition is worse—she can't handle this!"

Nathaniel's lips curled into a sneer. "Her heart condition isn't my problem. If she dies, it's punishment for impersonating Harrison."

"N-Nathaniel..." Isabella whispered, her voice barely audible.

His tone was final. "Take. Her. Away."

As Isabella was dragged off, the pain in her chest flared. A suffocating dread filled her—death loomed over her like a shadow.

She knew Nathaniel wouldn't care if she lived or died now. Desperate, she turned pleading eyes to Victoria and Theodore. "Mom! Dad! Help me! My heart—it really hurts! I don't want to die! Please—ugh!"

Before she could finish, a bodyguard's rough hand clamped over her mouth. She stumbled as they hauled her away.

Victoria and Theodore lunged forward, but the guards blocked them. They could only watch helplessly as their daughter was taken.

"Isabella! Isabella!" they cried.

Nathaniel turned his cold gaze to the remaining Whitmores. "And as for the rest of you..."

Margaret stepped forward, trembling.

"Mr. Falcon, Isabella's actions have nothing to do with us! Don't take your anger out on us. We don't want to suffer for her mistakes!"