Chapter 769

"Alright. We're leaving this instant!"

Isabella sprang to her feet, trailing behind Rosalind as they made their swift exit.

Meanwhile, inside her luxurious villa, Harrison swung open the front door—only to be met with the imposing silhouette of Nathaniel.

Her breath hitched. What was he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be dining with Isabella tonight?

Two days had passed since he'd stood her up at the courthouse. No calls. No texts. Not even a single word of explanation.

Despite her unwavering faith in Nathaniel's integrity, resentment coiled in her chest like a venomous serpent. The last person she wanted to face right now was him.

Harrison's fingers curled around the door handle, ready to slam it shut.

But Nathaniel's palm shot out, pressing firmly against the mahogany surface. His stormy eyes locked onto hers. "Don't," he murmured, voice rough with unspoken emotion.

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "Mr. Falcon. To what do I owe this... unexpected visit?"

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Back to formalities? That's cold, darling. Especially for the woman I'm supposed to marry."

The audacity!

Harrison's nails bit into her palms. "Supposed being the operative word. You never showed, remember?"

"Let me explain—"

"By all means." She crossed her arms. "You have exactly sixty seconds."

His jaw tightened. "Not like this. Let me in."

After a charged silence, Harrison stepped aside.

They moved to the sunlit living room where Nathaniel reached for her wrist—his touch featherlight yet electric. "You're furious with me."

"I'm not." Her voice could've frozen hell.

One dark brow arched. "Liar. You waited at the courthouse all day. Of course you're angry."

Internally, Nathaniel reveled in her fury. This fire proved she still cared—that after all these years and hardships, her heart remained irrevocably his.

Harrison wrenched her arm free. "Am I some amusing diversion to you? Your personal puppet to jerk around?"

"Never." His expression sobered. "There were reasons I couldn't meet you that day."

"Enlighten me."

Nathaniel hesitated. The truth remained half-buried, and revealing fragments would only breed more questions.

His silence stoked her rage. "Nothing to say? Then get out."

She turned toward the hallway—that's when Nathaniel spotted the documents on the coffee table. He snatched them up.

"What's this?" His voice dropped an octave as he examined two first-class tickets. "You're leaving?"

"Charlotte and I are relocating to Santorina."

If he couldn't commit, she wouldn't linger like some pathetic lovestruck fool. Letting him in had been her final act of faith—one he'd clearly squandered.

Nathaniel's grip on the tickets turned lethal. "Over my dead body will you take my daughter abroad."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "How very dictator of you. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe Ms. Lancaster is waiting for her dinner date."

The tickets crumpled in his fist as Nathaniel stepped into her space, his cologne—woodsy with a hint of bergamot—washing over her. "Isabella means nothing. You're everything."

Harrison's pulse betrayed her, hammering against her ribs. But she refused to yield. "Prove it."

Nathaniel cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Marry me. Right now. Let's drive to the courthouse this instant."

Her breath caught. The raw desperation in his eyes unraveled her resolve.

Then the doorbell rang.

They froze.

Through the frosted glass, Harrison recognized Isabella's silhouette—and the towering figure beside her.

Nathaniel's entire body tensed. "No," he breathed. "Not him."

Harrison frowned. "Who—"

The door swung open, revealing Rosalind's ashen face. "Harrison... you need to see this."

Behind her stood a silver-haired man in an impeccable suit—and the carbon copy of Nathaniel standing beside him.

The stranger smiled. "Hello, sister. Long time no see."