Chapter 717

Eleanor stood frozen, her entire body rigid as if struck by lightning. Her wide eyes locked onto Henry in utter disbelief.

"You—what?! You found a way to save Isabella, but it means trading your life for hers?"

Henry gave a slow, solemn nod. "That's correct."

Eleanor's breath hitched. She took an unsteady step forward, her voice trembling. "You're seriously willing to die for her?"

"I am. I didn't want to hide this from you," he said, his tone eerily calm. "Your father once did the Lancasters a great service. I owe it to him to ensure you're taken care of before anything happens. It's the only way I can repay that debt."

A debt. That was all this was to him? All their history, every moment between them—reduced to nothing more than an obligation?

Eleanor's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "This is insanity! You're at the peak of your power—wealth, influence, everything! And you'd throw it all away for Isabella? I won't allow it! There must be another way!"

To her, Isabella wasn't worth the dirt beneath Henry's shoes. How could he even consider this?

No. Never.

"My decision is final," Henry said, his voice firm. "There's no point arguing."

"Henry!"

"If there's nothing else, I'd like you to leave now."

Eleanor knew that tone. Once Henry made up his mind, no force on earth could change it.

Her gaze flickered to the will resting on his desk. "How are you dividing your estate? Isabella is your only daughter. Surely you're leaving everything to her?"

Right now, Isabella was her only bargaining chip. She needed to know its worth.

If Henry was willing to hand over his empire to Isabella, then maybe—just maybe—she could accept this madness.

She waited, pulse racing.

But Henry's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not leaving my fortune to Isabella."

Eleanor's breath caught. "What? She's your heir—your blood!"

"You're mistaken. My legal heir is my wife. Isabella and I are still married. She remains Mrs. Lancaster."

Eleanor's face drained of color. "So... everything... goes to Isabella?"

Henry nodded.

"Everything. Isabella is reckless, spoiled. She disrespects her mother when she doesn't get her way. I can't trust her with my estate. If she inherits it all, she'll have no reason to treat Isabella with dignity. That's why Isabella will control it. If our daughter learns to respect her mother in the future, Isabella will provide for her."

Eleanor's nails dug into her palms, drawing blood, but she barely felt it.

Everything. He was giving everything to Isabella.

He was worried their daughter would mistreat Isabella if she inherited directly.

Every last cent. Every asset. Every shred of power—all for Isabella.

His entire world revolved around her.

Rage burned through Eleanor's veins, but she forced it down, exhaling slowly. "Well... it's your estate. You have every right to decide. I'll leave you to it."

Henry gave a curt nod. "Good."

The moment Eleanor stepped out of the study, her expression twisted into something dark and venomous.

She had been the one to cast the curse on Isabella. The Frostholm Curse—the most merciless, the most cruel. It had been her weapon to break Isabella once before.

For years, she had held all the power. She had always been in control.

Even with Isabella back in the country, Eleanor had never once felt threatened.

Until now.