Chapter 699

Isabella started to speak, "I am—"

But Harrison interrupted sharply. "Spare me your introductions. I couldn't care less who you are. You've ruined my designer gown, and now you'll get on your knees and beg for forgiveness!"

Isabella arched one perfectly shaped brow. "And if I refuse?"

Danger flashed in Harrison's eyes as she snapped her fingers. "Security!"

Two towering men in black suits materialized instantly. "Yes, Miss Lancaster?"

"Seize her!" Harrison pointed dramatically at Isabella. "Make this gutter trash grovel at my feet!"

The bodyguards advanced, but Isabella merely smirked. "Touch me, and you'll spend the rest of your lives regretting it."

Harrison let out a shrill laugh. "Listen to her! Once you learn who my father is, you'll piss yourself in terror!"

"Promises, promises," Isabella drawled.

"Enough chatter! Grab her now!" Harrison shrieked.

Just as the guards reached for Isabella, a melodious voice sliced through the tension. "My, my, Miss Lancaster. Still throwing your weight around, I see?"

Harrison whirled to face the newcomer—her least favorite person in Metropolia. Eleanor had arrived.

Harrison's face twisted in displeasure. "What are you doing here?"

Eleanor glided forward, her designer heels clicking against the marble floor. "I came for afternoon tea. Imagine my surprise when I spotted you making a spectacle of yourself from across the restaurant. Who's your latest victim?"

"None of your concern," Harrison spat. "This gutter rat needs to learn her place. Planning to interfere?"

Eleanor's lips curved into a feline smile. "What if I am?"

Isabella studied Eleanor. Compared to Harrison's brash vulgarity, Eleanor carried herself with effortless grace—the very picture of old money elegance.

Isabella extended her hand. "Pleasure."

Eleanor turned—and froze. Her breath caught when she saw Isabella's face.

The portrait. The one painted over two decades ago. The resemblance was uncanny.

"It's you," Eleanor whispered.

Isabella tilted her head. "Do we know each other?"

Before Eleanor could respond, Harrison sneered, "Oh, you know each other? How fitting! Trash always flocks together. You're both gold-digging whores clinging to wealthy men. My social circle consists exclusively of Metropolia's elite—daughters of nobility and old money families."

Eleanor's eyes widened. "What did you just call her?"

Harrison shrugged. "Did I stutter? Look at her—head-to-toe designer labels. Clearly some rich man's plaything!"

For a long moment, Eleanor simply stared. Then she burst into laughter—rich, melodic laughter that echoed through the restaurant. "Oh, this is priceless! If you knew who she really is, you'd collapse in hysterics!"

"Why would I—" Harrison began, then cut herself off with an exasperated wave. "Enough! Since you insist on meddling, Eleanor, you can kneel beside her!"

At that precise moment, a deep baritone voice rumbled through the space. "What's the meaning of this?"

Harrison's face lit up as she spotted Henry Lancaster. She rushed to his side, clinging to his arm like a lifeline.

"Daddy! Thank heavens you're here! These two have been bullying me mercilessly! Especially this one—she ruined my Valentino gown! Make them both apologize on their knees!"

Isabella's expression shifted dramatically. She stepped forward, disbelief written across her features. "Daddy?"

Harrison preened like a peacock spreading its feathers. "Now you understand, don't you? I'm Isabella Lancaster—heiress to the Lancaster fortune! Scared now, peasant?" Her laughter rang out, sharp and cruel.