Chapter 703

Henry Lancaster gazed at Isabella, his fingers lightly tracing her jawline.

"Twenty years apart? That doesn't sound like a statement—it sounds like you're complaining about being neglected." His voice dropped to a husky murmur. "Don't worry. Tonight, I'll make sure you don't feel empty anymore."

Isabella remained silent for a beat—then, a sharp smack echoed through the room. She slapped his hand away.

"Why don't you go find Eleanor instead? After all these years, I'm sure she's warmed my side of the bed just fine."

Henry's expression darkened, his voice laced with icy fury. "How many times must I repeat myself? There was never anything between Eleanor and me!"

Isabella arched a brow. "Really? Not even once?"

Henry gritted his teeth. "Stop twisting everything with your filthy imagination!"

Wait. So he hadn't slept with Eleanor?

Her lips curved into a mocking smile. "Then who have you been entertaining all these years? A secretary? A college student? Or did you just rotate through them?"

"Isabella!" His growl was a warning.

She laughed lightly. "Oh, did I strike a nerve? Or are you trying to convince me you've been celibate for two decades? Please. I wasn't born yesterday."

Henry's gaze dropped to her parted lips, crimson and tempting. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.

"Mmph!" Isabella's eyes widened in shock. She shoved against his chest, but he caught her wrists effortlessly, pinning them against the wall as his kiss deepened—possessive, demanding, leaving no room for resistance.

Heat flooded her cheeks. They weren't young anymore, yet Henry kissed her with the same reckless intensity as before.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

When he didn’t relent, she bit down—hard.

Henry hissed in pain, pulling back. A drop of blood welled on his lower lip. He wiped it away with his thumb, his glare sharpening—

"Henry?"

A soft, familiar voice interrupted.

Isabella turned. Eleanor stood in the doorway, her delicate features etched with concern.

Without hesitation, Isabella shoved Henry back, putting distance between them.

Eleanor rushed forward, her eyes widening at the sight of blood. "You're hurt!" Then, she turned to Isabella with a fragile smile. "Isabella, it's so wonderful to have you back. You've misunderstood everything between Henry and me. We're just friends. He only kept me close out of pity. If I'm causing problems, I'll leave immediately—"

Isabella cut her off with a cold laugh. She knew Eleanor's game all too well. After all, she had been burned by this woman before.

"Save it. I don't care what your relationship is. He's not mine anymore—you can have him."

Henry's jaw tightened. "Isabella."

She stepped closer to Eleanor, her voice a silken whisper. "Twenty years, and you still haven't become Mrs. Lancaster? How... disappointing."

Eleanor's mask faltered. The barb struck deep.

Isabella pressed on, her smile razor-sharp. "You should try harder. You're not getting any younger—what are you now, forty-five? It was pathetic enough chasing another woman's husband at twenty, but at your age? That’s just sad."

Eleanor's hands clenched into fists, her composure cracking.

Isabella cast Henry one last glance. "Goodbye, Mr. Lancaster."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Eleanor quickly composed herself, moving to Henry's side. "You still haven't explained things to her? She can say whatever she wants about me, but I don’t want to come between you two."