Chapter 542

Henry Lancaster gazed at Isabella with tender affection, his eyes shimmering with paternal pride.

Theodore observed the scene with a knowing smile, while Victoria Whitmore stood silently in the shadows, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

Every calculated move had led to this perfect moment.

As twilight painted the sky, Isabella retreated to her chambers. Within minutes, Victoria slipped in after her.

"Isabella," she murmured softly.

The response was glacial. "What do you want?"

"I simply wished to see you before your departure to Metropolia with Mr. Lancaster. The thought of your absence already pains me."

Though Victoria's sorrow was genuine, Isabella remained unmoved.

"I'm perfectly fine. You may leave now," came the dismissive reply.

"Isabella—" Victoria reached for her daughter's hand.

Isabella recoiled violently. "Don't touch me! Must you be so insufferable?"

Victoria staggered back as if struck. "How dare you speak to me this way? I'm your mother!"

"Mother?" Isabella's laugh was razor-sharp. "You're nothing of the sort. My real mother is dead. At best, you're my guardian."

The words froze Victoria's blood. She'd orchestrated the grandest deception—swapping Isabella with Harrison, securing her position as Lancaster heiress. Never had she imagined this betrayal.

For years, Victoria had poured her soul into Isabella. The girl had been her purpose, her legacy.

"Isabella, you're my daughter. I love you—" Victoria's voice cracked.

"Love?" Isabella scoffed. "What has your love ever given me? Now I'm the wealthiest heiress alive. My true father will provide everything. I've outgrown your pathetic affection. Leave."

Panic clawed at Victoria's throat. "You're casting me aside?"

Isabella crossed her arms, a statue of ice. "Let me be clear—you were never my mother. To avoid confusion, I'll address you as Mrs. Whitmore from now on."

Mrs. Whitmore?

The formal title struck like a slap. Victoria seized Isabella's wrist. "Listen to me—"

"Enough!" Isabella wrenched free. "The Whitmores raised me, but Father has promised to compensate you. Don't be greedy. Get out!"

Without ceremony, Isabella shoved Victoria into the corridor and slammed the door. The thunderous crash echoed through the manor.

Victoria stood paralyzed, her face ghostly pale.

Her own flesh and blood had exiled her. After sacrificing everything—her morals, her sanity—for Isabella's future, this was her reward.

So much remained unsaid. The dangerous truth about Isabella's lineage. The catastrophic consequences if Henry discovered the deception.

But Isabella was already drunk on power, deaf to reason.

"Isabella! Open this door! We must speak!" Victoria pounded on the oak.

Theodore appeared, disapproval darkening his features. "Victoria, what madness is this? It's late. Let the girl rest."

Victoria's mouth opened soundlessly. Fear strangled her words—fear Theodore might uncover the truth.

His gaze softened as he studied Isabella's door.

"She's reunited with her father, returning to Metropolia. Though I failed her mother, I can rest knowing she's with family."

A wistful smile touched his lips.

"Protecting Isabella remains my life's purpose."

The irony burned Victoria's tongue. If only Theodore knew—the girl he cherished wasn't Harrison at all.