Chapter 219: Plotting Against Isobel 2

Isobel would have no prestigious family name to give them.

No powerful relatives.

No lineage that could place her on equal footing with the women in that room.

Mary would not need to humiliate her.

She only needed to make Isobel feel the difference herself.

But that alone might not be enough. Mary needed something sharper.

She would choose one of Kristoff’s admirers carefully.

It was both a pity and a relief that he broke up with Charlotte. They have been together for a long time but Charlotte was sterile so she could not birth another Dalton for Kristoff.

So she should pick somebody else.

Someone beautiful. Well-connected.

Confident enough to speak to Isobel privately without appearing threatened.

Someone who could deliver the message Mary herself could not.

A face popped up in her head.

Selene Gomez. The beautiful and talented daughter of the governor.

She could provide her cues on what to do and what to say.

"You saved Kristoff’s life. For that, my family will always be grateful, Miss Isobel."

Then she would let the words settle before continuing.

"But gratitude has limits."

Mary’s eyes narrowed.

The next words would have to be delivered gently.

Almost sympathetically.

"Kristoff may not understand the difference between gratitude and love yet."

A pause.

"But I do."

Mary imagined Isobel’s expression. That would be the real attack. Not her lack of money. Not her lack of family.

Not even the whispers.

It would be the suggestion that everything Kristoff felt for her might be nothing more than gratitude.

And worse—

that she might be foolishly mistaking gratitude for love.

Mary’s fingers slowly curled against her palm.

If Isobel had begun developing feelings for Kristoff, which Mary was sure that she already had, the thought would be devastating.

She would begin questioning every moment between them.

Every kindness, Kristoff showed her in the last few days.

Every lingering look.

Every time Kristoff had protected her.

Was it love?

Or merely guilt? Gratitude? Responsibility?

Mary knew how doubt worked.

Once planted, it did not need to be forced.

It grew on its own.

And if Isobel was as proud as Mary suspected, she would not wait for Kristoff to eventually realize that she did not belong in his world.

She would leave before he had the chance to reject her.

That was what Mary wanted. Not a confrontation. Not a scandal. Not even a direct order for Isobel to stay away from her son.

She wanted Isobel to walk away willingly.

And when Kristoff came looking for an explanation, Mary would have clean hands.

She had only welcomed the woman into their world.

She had only thanked her.

She had only introduced her to the people who mattered.

Whatever happened afterward would be Isobel’s own decision.

A faint smile touched Mary’s lips.

Now that was a plan.

She glanced once more at the family portrait.

"Let’s see how long you can hold on to him," she murmured.

Her smile deepened.

"Before you realize you were never meant to."

...

Mary stepped toward the wall where generations of Dalton portraits hung in solemn rows, their painted faces watching over the study with an almost intimidating dignity.

Her gaze moved past the stern patriarchs, elegant women, and long-dead heirs until it stopped on one particular portrait.

A handsome man stood there in formal black, his posture proud, his expression composed.

The resemblance was unmistakable.

The same sharp jaw. The same obsidian eyes. The same quiet intensity that could make a room fall silent.

Vandolf Dalton. Mary’s precious eldest son.

For a long moment, she simply stared at his portrait.

Twelve years had passed, yet the pain never truly faded. It only settled into a place so deep inside her that she had learned how to live around it.

Vandolf was only twenty six when he died.

Kristoff was eighteen.

It had happened on a night that began like any other.

Vandolf and his wife returned home when their convoy was ambushed by men from the underworld. Gunfire tore through the darkness. Cars were overturned. Bodyguards were killed before they could react.

Vandolf fought until the very end. He did not survive.

But for Mary, the worst part had not been the bloodshed.

It was what came after.

The woman who had brought Vandolf into that dangerous world, was gone.

Mary’s fingers slowly curled at her side.

She could never forgive her.

That woman had arrived in their lives looking like the very picture of innocence.

An orphan, or so she had claimed.

Quiet. Gentle. Beautiful.

She seemed so fragile that Vandolf had become fiercely protective of her.

Mary had warned him.

But Vandolf had been hopelessly in love.

He believed the woman needed someone to protect her.

What he didn’t know was that she had never been helpless.

She was an underworld princess, born into one of the most powerful criminal families in Shangville. Worse, she had already been betrothed to a ruthless mafia lord.

She fled the engagement.

Then she crossed paths with Vandolf.

Vandolf, unaware of the danger following her, had fallen in love.

Mary learned the truth too late.

By the time she understood who her daughter-in-law really was, her son was already entangled in a world he had never belonged to.

Then came the attack.

His wife disappeared soon after, leaving no body, no explanation, and no answer.

That memory still haunted her.

Kristoff who was close to his brother suffered a blow. While he mourned his passing, he was forced to grow up to handle the company that his brother left behind.

The Dalton Technologies.

Mary watched him grow up carrying a wound he rarely spoke about.

And somewhere along the way, her grief had hardened into a belief.

Never again.

Never again would an unknown woman enter the Dalton family with a beautiful face and a tragic story while hiding something far more dangerous underneath.

That was why Isobel unsettled her.

It wasn’t merely that Isobel was poor and she had no powerful family name behind her.

It was the mystery.

An orphan with no clear family.

A woman whose past seemed strangely difficult to trace.

A woman who had appeared in Kristoff’s life at the exact moment he was vulnerable—and who had somehow become important to him far too quickly.

To everyone else, Isobel might look innocent.

To Mary, innocence meant nothing.

She had seen it before.

She watched an apparently helpless woman capture her son’s heart, only to discover that behind that innocent facade was a secret powerful enough to destroy an entire family.

Mary looked back at Vandolf’s portrait.

Her eyes hardened. She could not allow history to repeat itself.

Not with Kristoff. Not with Alexander.

Perhaps Isobel truly was as innocent as she appeared.

But Mary had made one promise to herself after Vandolf’s death.

She would never again risk her family on a woman whose past was shrouded in secrets.

If that made her cruel, so be it.

She would rather have Kristoff hate her than stand before another Dalton grave, knowing she had failed to protect her son.

Mary’s eyes remained fixed on Kristoff’s portrait.

"I won’t lose you too," she whispered.