Chapter 499: Not Now, Of All Times.

"Dad, what the hell is going on?!"

Isabella harrumphed as she stormed into the mansion. The moment she stepped inside, all she saw were men.

They were everywhere.

Many of her father’s men—faces she recognized but rarely saw around their main residence—were scattered throughout the lobby. Some stood near the doors, while others occupied the couches and corners of the room.

Isabella slowed, her brows knitting together.

Why were all these people here?

"Sweetheart." Carmella quickly hurried toward her daughter and clasped her hand. "Why don’t you go upstairs and settle into your room first, hmm?"

"Mom," Isabella frowned deeply, glancing around before her eyes landed on her father. "How could you not tell me anything? Do you even know where these men picked me up?!"

Marshal remained seated on the couch. The only reaction he gave her was a frown.

Isabella’s jaw tightened.

"Dad!"

Her voice echoed across the lobby, finally drawing a few glances from the men around them.

Still, Marshal barely reacted.

"What am I, a decoration?!" she snapped. "Why is no one telling me what’s going on?"

"Isabella," Carmella whispered urgently. "Lower your voice."

But that only infuriated her further.

Isabella swatted her mother’s hand away and marched toward Marshal. She stopped directly in front of him, glaring down at her father.

"I did what you told me to do and tolerated June," she said through clenched teeth. "I stayed there even when I didn’t want to because you told me it was necessary."

Only then did Marshal slowly lift his eyes to her.

"And?"

Isabella blinked.

"And?" she repeated incredulously. "Because of what you told me, I got into an accident! And then your men suddenly showed up and dragged me out like I was some criminal! They wouldn’t tell me anything. Mom wouldn’t tell me anything. And now I come back to this?"

"Isabella, the accident was minor," Marshal answered, exercising what little patience he had left.

But that didn’t appease her.

She threw an arm toward the men scattered around the mansion.

"What is happening?"

The answer came quickly and casually from one of them. "Nothing that concerns you."

"Hah!" Isabella scoffed, whipping her head toward the man. "What?"

"Isabella." Marshal leaned back against the couch, his expression already showing signs of irritation. "Listen to your mother and go to your room."

Isabella stared at him.

For a moment, she genuinely couldn’t believe what she had heard.

Marshal had always treated her like this, but recently, she couldn’t help wondering if he truly intended to let her inherit the family as he had promised.

Wasn’t this supposed to be the time when Marshal started teaching her about their operations?

"Doesn’t concern me?" she echoed. "I’m your daughter, Dad. Am I supposed to sit upstairs like some idiot while armed men surround our rest house? Isn’t it about time I learned more about the family?"

The second those words rolled off her tongue, she noticed several men stifling their laughter.

Isabella froze.

"What are you laughing at?" she growled. "Do you want to die?"

"Isabella." Marshal’s tone hardened. "You wanted to know why my men picked you up? Things are complicated right now, so I had you brought somewhere secure. Otherwise, whoever is behind the attacks on our family might take you and send your head back to me."

Her breath hitched.

"Don’t make me repeat myself, Isabella," he warned.

This time, his voice carried a tone he had never used on her before.

Marshal glanced at Carmella.

"Take her to her room."

"Yes, dear." Carmella sighed heavily as she approached Isabella and tugged at her arm. "Isabella, just listen to your father."

But Isabella didn’t budge.

She glared at her father before sweeping her gaze across the other men.

She had never liked her father’s men, especially those who held high positions in the family. But now, she could clearly see the amusement and mockery in their eyes.

They were looking at her as though she were some kind of laughingstock.

"What’s so funny?" she snapped.

No one answered.

"Isabella!" Carmella hissed. "Let’s go. Now!"

"But—"

"Enough!" Marshal growled, making his daughter flinch. "You came barging in here screaming like a spoiled child while grown men are dealing with matters you couldn’t begin to understand."

His sharp eyes remained fixed on her.

"What exactly did you expect them to think?" he continued, no longer having the patience or energy for this. "If I tell you to stay somewhere, you stay there. If I send men to bring you home, you come home. You don’t need an explanation every time I make a decision."

Isabella’s face went blank.

"You’ve lived well all these years, Isabella," Marshal continued. "Don’t start looking for trouble now. Not now, of all times."

He breathed out heavily. "Now, go."

Her fingers curled tightly, her nails digging into her palms.

"Fine!" she harrumphed, glaring at every pair of eyes around her and catching more than one suppressed smirk. "Whatever! Do what you need to do. You don’t need me? Fine! I don’t need any of you either!"

With that, Isabella stormed away.

"Isabella!" Carmella called after her, but her daughter had already reached the staircase.

She sighed and looked back at Marshal.

"I’ll go talk to her."

Marshal didn’t even bother responding. He simply waved his wife off.

There were far more important problems demanding his attention right now, and coaxing his daughter wasn’t even on his list of priorities.

******

SLAM!

The moment the bedroom door slammed shut behind Isabella, she sucked in a sharp breath.

"Assholes," she hissed, glaring at the door.

Her hands trembled as she tossed her bag onto the bed and dropped onto the edge of the mattress. She pulled out her phone, gripping it so tightly that she almost wanted to smash it against the wall.

Isabella wanted to scream.

Even before all of this, things had already started feeling increasingly suffocating.

She had recently gotten into a minor accident with June. Although she appreciated that her parents had flown out to see her afterward, everything else in her life had begun to feel strangely restrictive.

Perhaps it had started with her business.

Marshal had funded her venture in crops, yet Isabella never truly felt like she was the one in charge. Every important decision still somehow fell to her father.

Or perhaps it was June.

She had been forced to tolerate him because Marshal told her to, even as the man became increasingly intrusive and possessive.

Sure, Isabella had lived comfortably all her life.

But she was tired of being treated like some clueless little girl everyone could order around.

"Even Ashley has power now," she muttered bitterly. "They didn’t even consult me before sending her off to marry."

Her teeth ground together.

Her eyes flickered dangerously at the thought of Ashley—her success, the confidence she now radiated even in Lucian’s presence, and the way people seemed to naturally flock around her.

Meanwhile, what did Isabella get?

June—that weirdo.

"Isabella, open the door." Carmella’s voice came from the other side, accompanied by a series of quiet knocks. "Sweetheart."

"Leave me alone! I don’t want to talk!" Isabella roared, turning away from the door. "Just go! Do whatever you need to do. I don’t care!"

"Isabella, please."

But Isabella refused to answer.

She ignored her mother’s pleas and stared down at the phone still clutched in her hand.

At that moment, the screen lit up.

Her brows rose.

Several unread messages were waiting for her, but one name immediately caught her attention.

Memphis.

Isabella pursed her lips before tapping the notification.

Quickly, their previous conversation filled the screen. They had been talking for quite some time now.

And unlike everyone in her life, Memphis never treated her like she was stupid.

Her eyes fell on his latest message.

[Memphis: Hello, dear. Have you thought about my proposal yet?]