Chapter 147: Between Love and Hate

"What did Mrs. Foster mean when she said Isobel was her daughter?"

The question echoed relentlessly in Kristoff’s mind.

Morgan Foster was a married man.

Did that mean the Foster family had accepted Isobel as Morgan’s mistress?

The thought ignited something dark inside him.

A violent surge of anger swept through his chest, so fierce it almost stole his breath. His expression hardened, his jaw clenched, and the warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a piercing, icy glare fixed solely on Isobel.

So this was who she had chosen to become.

The woman he once believed as dignified had willingly become another man’s shadow.

A bitter sneer tugged at the corner of Kristoff’s lips.

How laughable.

The moment one powerful man closed his door to her, she simply found another to cling to.

Was power and wealth all she had ever wanted?

Was any man with enough influence enough to make her surrender her dignity?

Disgust churned in his chest.

Yet beneath that disgust lurked something far uglier.

Jealousy.

His fingers dug into the wheelchair’s armrests until the leather creaked beneath his grip, his knuckles turning deathly white.

If she had wanted a powerful man...

Why hadn’t she come to him? He could have given her everything.

Money. Protection. Status.

He could even make her his wife, he could have kept her by his side.

She never would have needed to seek another man’s protection.

The thought should have satisfied him.

Instead, it left an unbearable bitterness in his mouth.

Then, without warning, a memory surfaced.

The day Alexander was born.

His own voice echoed mercilessly in his ears.

"Don’t ever appear before Charlotte and me again."

His breathing faltered.

The rage consuming him wavered.

Was it because of those words?

Was he the one who severed every path back to him?

Had he driven her, with his own hands, into Morgan Foster’s embrace?

His grip loosened for the briefest moment before tightening again.

No.

She had made her own choice.

She was the one who had chosen another man.

Yet no matter how fiercely he tried to convince himself, that single question continued to gnaw at him like poison.

If he had never pushed her away... would she still have left?

He had always believed Morgan valued Isobel only for her extraordinary talent and abilities as an employee. That was the only explanation that made sense.

But now...

How foolish he had been.

Why else would Morgan mobilize so many people, spend so much time, and risk so much just to rescue her last night?

No man would go that far unless the woman meant something far more personal.

A strange bitterness spread through Kristoff’s chest.

...

Meanwhile, Isobel suddenly felt a cold shiver race down her spine.

Her instincts screamed that someone was watching her. She turned instinctively toward Kristoff.

The moment their eyes met, her heart skipped a beat.

His gaze was terrifying.

It was cold... accusing... almost filled with hatred.

She instinctively took half a step back and she almost collided with Leanne.

Why is he looking at me like that? He was perfectly fine just a moment ago.

Before she could think any further, Kristine hurried over and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"Isobel," she said, her voice trembling with relief, "you scared us to death last night."

Kristoff’s pupils contracted.

Even Kristine...

She and Morgan were known to be a perfect couple. There was not even a rumor about Morgan having another woman, except for that time during the convention.

Yet she was hugging Isobel as though she were family.

Was Kristine out of her mind? Could she be that magnanimous?

Or had Isobel somehow bewitched every member of the Foster family?

The scene before him became increasingly unbearable.

He had no intention of standing there while they played happy family.

"I’ve seen enough," he said coldly. "I’m leaving."

The nurse immediately stepped forward, turned his wheelchair around, and began pushing him toward the exit.

"Wait."

Julian’s deep voice stopped them.

He strode forward until he stood directly in Kristoff’s path, blocking the wheelchair completely.

His usually gentle expression was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, his eyes burned with unconcealed hostility.

"Kristoff... Dalton."

He deliberately pronounced every syllable of Kristoff’s name, his voice low and dangerous.

Kristoff’s brows knitted together.

He looked at Julian in genuine confusion.

The hatred in the man’s eyes was unmistakable.

But why?

What had he done to earn such hostility?

Julian took another step closer, his sharp gaze never leaving Kristoff’s face.

"You wronged the Foster family."

Julian’s voice was low and unnervingly calm, yet every syllable carried a weight that pressed heavily against the room.

His gaze sharpened, cold enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine.

"And your sin..." He let the words hang in the air, his eyes never leaving Kristoff’s. "...is beyond forgiveness."

A deep furrow appeared between Kristoff’s brows.

He searched Julian’s face, but all he found was undisguised hatred.

Confusion flickered across his own features.

"Mr. Foster," he replied evenly, refusing to be intimidated, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He paused before adding, "When have I ever wronged your family?"

"If this is about business, every deal between Dalton Group and Foster Group was conducted fairly and transparently. We competed, negotiated, and honored every contract. I have never resorted to underhanded tactics."

His voice remained calm, but there was quiet conviction behind every word.

"So tell me..." Kristoff met Julian’s icy stare without backing down. "What exactly is this unforgivable sin you believe I’ve committed?"

Julian’s jaw tightened.

He was about to speak when the door swung open.

"There you are."

A doctor in a white coat strode into the room, relief flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced by disapproval.

"I went to your room to check on you, but you were gone." His gaze settled on Kristoff’s injured leg. "You shouldn’t be moving around yet."

He crouched beside the wheelchair and examined the bandaged ankle.

"Let’s get you back to your room. I need to make sure the swelling hasn’t gotten worse."

Kristoff gave a silent nod.

Without another word, he gestured for the nurse to push his wheelchair forward.

The wheels rolled across the polished floor, carrying him toward the door.

Not once did he look back.