Chapter 353

Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the Roland family dining room.

Isabella Langley fluttered around Evelyn Roland in her pink loungewear. "Sister, try this fried egg. I made it with a runny yolk just for you."

She pushed a milk glass toward Evelyn, its rim smudged with lipstick.

Evelyn's fingers tapped lightly on the table as she studied the red stain. "Why so attentive today?"

"We haven't gone shopping together in ages." Isabella batted her innocent doe eyes. "Come with me to the new mall this weekend?"

Across the table, Sophia Roland smiled approvingly. "Evelyn, do spend more time with your sister."

Edward Roland set down his newspaper, his gaze shifting between them behind his glasses. "Yes, it's good for sisters to bond."

Evelyn methodically cut into her egg, watching yolk spill across the porcelain plate. "I'm quite busy lately."

"Then I'll visit you at the vineyard!" Isabella's voice rose before she hastily lowered it. "May I?"

Silence fell over the dining room.

Evelyn lifted her eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "As you wish."

After breakfast, the butler directed servants to load tonics into Evelyn's trunk. "Miss, these bird's nests were specially prepared by Madam."

"Thank you." Evelyn fastened her seatbelt, catching Isabella's waving figure in the rearview mirror.

Only when the black sedan disappeared beyond the gates did Isabella's smile vanish.

She hurried to her room, changed into a Chanel suit, and touched up her makeup.

Once certain the household had emptied, she grabbed her car keys and headed straight for the underground garage.

Her GPS led to an ordinary residential district in the east city. Isabella's hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel.

"This place..." She frowned at the peeling stairwell, her heels clicking sharply on the concrete steps.

The doorbell rang three times before anyone answered.

"Who is it?" A housekeeper in an apron eyed her suspiciously.

Isabella instinctively stepped back. "I'm here to see Mrs. Lydia Valrose."

"Madam is still doing her facial." The housekeeper let her in. "Wait here."

The cracked leather sofa and cheap fruit arrangement made Isabella grimace. She flicked a throw pillow aside with her fingertips.

"Well, who do we have here?"

A woman in a wrinkled LV dress emerged, her face mask still damp.

Isabella rose, nails digging into her palms. "Are you Owen Valrose's wife?"

"That's right." Lydia tore off the mask, then froze. "Wait—your face..."

She leaned in abruptly, overwhelming perfume assaulting Isabella's senses. "You can't be... Isabella?"

Isabella turned deathly pale. This woman reeking of drugstore perfume had recognized her instantly.