Chapter 636

The Apex Soiree was the most exclusive event of the season, a glittering convergence of power and prestige where the elite gathered to see and be seen.

Isabella lived for these moments—the dazzling lights, the whispered politics, the intoxicating rush of being at the center of it all. Naturally, she wanted to attend, and she wanted Nathaniel by her side.

Nathaniel shut her down immediately. "You're not coming with me."

Isabella's lips parted in protest, but she had expected this. She was always prepared. "The Lancasters received an invitation too. My father never attends these things, so I'm going in his place. At least let me ride with you."

"No." His refusal was absolute.

For a fraction of a second, her composure faltered.

Nathaniel didn’t spare her another glance as he turned away.

Disappointment flickered through her, but she smoothed it over with practiced ease. "Mrs. Hawk, since Nathaniel won’t take me, I’ll have the driver drop me off."

Victoria nodded. "Very well. Once you’re there, you’ll still have plenty of opportunities to be near him. Enjoy yourself."

"Thank you."

Half an hour later, Isabella arrived at the Apex Soiree with Arabella in tow.

Arabella had relocated to Metropolia three years ago. After her messy breakup with Julian, who had generously compensated her, she was back on the market. Tonight, she was here to scout for a wealthy prospect—someone who could secure her future.

She clung to Isabella’s arm. "This place is unreal!"

Isabella smirked. "Stick with me. I’ll show you how it’s done."

Just then, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the entrance. Nathaniel stepped out, flanked by Dominic.

Isabella brightened. "Nathaniel! You made it!"

Nathaniel barely spared her a glance, his expression unreadable. Of course she was here—she always was.

He moved toward the entrance without a word.

But then another luxury car arrived. The door opened, and a breathtaking figure emerged—graceful, poised, effortlessly commanding attention.

Harrison.

It was as if an electric current passed between them. Nathaniel turned sharply, his breath catching as his gaze locked onto her.

His voice was barely a whisper. "Harrison?"

"Harrison? Where?"

Isabella and Arabella spun around, scanning the crowd.

The moment Harrison stepped out, she was immediately surrounded by staff, who greeted her with deference. "Ms. Jolin, right this way."

They whisked her away before Nathaniel could react, leaving him with only a fleeting glimpse of her retreating figure.

Isabella frowned. "Harrison? I didn’t see her."

Arabella shrugged. "She’s not here. Nathaniel, are you sure you weren’t imagining things?"

Nathaniel didn’t answer. He was already moving, pushing through the crowd, his pulse roaring in his ears.

No, he wasn’t mistaken.

That had been Harrison.

After three long years, she was back.

He broke into a run, chasing after her.

"Nathaniel!" Isabella’s voice was sharp with frustration.

But he didn’t stop. When he reached the spot where he’d last seen her, she was gone—swallowed by the sea of guests.

His voice cut through the hum of conversation. "Harrison! Harrison!"

Up on the second floor, Harrison paused at the railing. She had heard him calling her name.

She looked down, her fingers tightening around the polished banister.

There he was—Nathaniel, standing amidst the crowd, his eyes wild with desperation.

Three years.

It had been so long.