Chapter 125: Going Back To Where It Started

Charlotte strode out of the hospital with her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The smile she had carefully worn inside had long since vanished, replaced by a storm of resentment simmering beneath her composed exterior.

She had miscalculated.

For the first time, she realized just how important Alexander was to Kristoff.

She had believed the child was nothing more than a convenient responsibility—a weakness she could manipulate whenever she wished. She had been certain Kristoff would never suspect her. After all, she had done nothing that could be traced back to her. Everything had appeared perfectly innocent.

Yet Kristoff had still questioned her.

That single look of suspicion in his eyes had pierced deeper than she cared to admit.

Kristoff was far more cautious than she had given him credit for. He trusted facts over appearances, and once doubt took root in his mind, it would not disappear easily.

Charlotte inhaled slowly, forcing the anger back down.

Fine.

She had made one mistake, but she would not make it twice.

From this day forward, Alexander would no longer be her target. Not until Kristoff trusted her completely again. She needed to become the woman he relied on without hesitation—the only person whose words he would never question.

Only then would she make her next move.

Her eyes darkened as another face surfaced in her mind.

The nanny.

A cold smile slowly curved her lips.

Before she could regain Kristoff’s trust... there was one loose end she had to eliminate.

And unlike the child, the nanny had no one powerful enough to protect her.

...

Back at the Foster mansion, Isobel was awakened by a cheerful notification from the robotic puppy she had named Lexar.

The little robot wagged its metallic tail before projecting a brief medical update.

Alexander has been transferred to a private room. His condition has stabilized.

The tightness in Isobel’s chest eased, and she let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

"Thank goodness..."

The nightmare was finally over.

Through Lexar’s live feed, she had also witnessed the tense confrontation between Kristoff and Charlotte outside Alexander’s hospital room.

She had expected Kristoff to blindly defend his fiancée, just as he always had.

Instead, he had questioned her.

A hint of surprise flickered across Isobel’s face.

"I thought Kristoff was hopelessly blinded by love," she murmured to herself. "Thankfully, when it comes to Alexander, he’s still capable of seeing reason."

For the first time in a long while, Isobel felt a sliver of hope.

Perhaps Kristoff wasn’t as beyond saving as she had believed.

...

With Alexander finally out of danger, Isobel turned her attention to the question that had haunted her since the day before.

Her mother. Rosella Lancey.

She needed answers.

Fortunately, it was a public holiday, so there was no need to rush to the office.

When she came downstairs, the Foster family was already gathered around the breakfast table. Freshly brewed coffee filled the dining room with its rich aroma, but Judy’s seat remained conspicuously empty.

Isobel took a quiet breath before speaking.

"Dad..."

The word still felt unfamiliar on her tongue, awkward and hesitant, but she forced herself to say it.

Julian looked up at her, his expression softening almost instinctively.

"I want to go back to the village where my mother used to live," she said. "Maybe someone there remembers her... or knows what happened after you left."

"I’ll go with you," Morgan said without a moment’s hesitation.

Julian’s fingers tightened around his coffee cup.

Every part of him wanted to come.

If Rosella was still alive...

If fate was giving him one last chance to see the woman he had unknowingly left behind...

But his gaze drifted to Leanne.

She quietly buttered a slice of toast, her expression calm as always. Yet Julian knew her well enough to recognize the sadness she was trying to hide.

He had only just learned that Isobel was his daughter. Asking his wife to watch him search for another woman—would be too cruel.

Besides...

He wasn’t sure he had the courage to face Rosella if she truly was still alive. What could he possibly say after all these years?

Morgan caught the flicker of conflict in his father’s eyes and understood immediately.

"I’ll take care of it," he said, sparing Julian from making the impossible choice. "We’ll find out the truth first."

Julian slowly nodded, grateful for his son’s unspoken understanding.

"Then it’s settled," Morgan said, his tone leaving no room for further discussion.

...

The journey to the outskirts of the capital took more than three hours.

From there, Morgan steered the SUV off the highway and onto a narrow mountain road that wound toward the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountain Range. Towering trees gradually replaced concrete buildings, and the bustling traffic faded into the distant hum of nature.

After another grueling hour along a dusty dirt road riddled with potholes, the vehicle finally rolled to a stop before a weathered wooden sign.

Welcome to Greenvale.

Isobel stepped out of the SUV and drew in a deep breath.

Time seemed to have forgotten the village.

The roads were still nothing more than packed earth and loose gravel. Most homes were built from bamboo with woven straw roofs, while a handful of sturdier log cabins stood scattered among them.

Solar panels perched atop a few rooftops, their modern silhouettes oddly out of place against the rustic landscape.

It was undeniably poor.

Yet the crisp mountain air, the rustling trees, and the cheerful chirping of birds created a tranquility that the capital, with all its wealth and towering skyscrapers, could never offer.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Isobel found herself missing that simple peace.

The arrival of a sleek luxury SUV immediately disrupted the village’s quiet rhythm.

Doors creaked open.

Children abandoned their games and ran barefoot toward the road. Housewives peeked from their windows before stepping outside, wiping their hands on their aprons. Elderly villagers emerged from shaded porches, curiosity written across their weathered faces.

A luxury vehicle was a rare sight in Greenvale.

Within moments, a small crowd had gathered around them.

Some villagers stared at Isobel, her yellow sundress making her seem completely out of place.

Others couldn’t take their eyes off Morgan.

Tall, impeccably dressed, and carrying himself with effortless authority, he looked as though he had stepped out of a magazine. The young women whispered behind their hands, stealing shy glances before dissolving into quiet giggles.

Isobel almost smiled at the sight, but the thought of why she had come quickly sobered her expression.

She approached an elderly woman with silver hair and deeply lined features, who was watching her with quiet curiosity.

"Excuse me, Ma’am," Isobel asked politely. "I’m looking for someone named Rosella Lancey."

She paused, her heart beginning to pound.

"Do you happen to know her?"

The old woman’s eyes widened.

The chatter around them abruptly died away.