Chapter 240: Shaming Her

An idea flashed through Mary Dalton’s mind.

Her eyes lingered on the painting for another moment before a faint, knowing smile curved her lips.

Fifteen million.

For a woman like Isobel, that was not a small amount of money.

Mary slowly turned toward her and approached with measured, graceful steps, wearing the warm smile of someone who had come to offer nothing but friendly conversation.

Only her eyes betrayed her.

As she drew closer, she caught Selene’s gaze and gave her a subtle look.

Selene immediately understood.

She stepped forward, her voice carrying just enough to attract the attention of the people nearby.

"Isobel, where did you get the money to buy this painting?"

The question sounded innocent.

But in a room filled with sharp-eyed businessmen, wealthy socialites, and people who lived by rumors, everyone understood what she was really asking.

Selene tilted her head, pretending to be curious.

"You only started working recently, didn’t you? Even if you earn a hundred thousand a month—which, frankly, seems unlikely—you still couldn’t save fifteen million that quickly."

A few people exchanged glances.

Someone quietly chuckled.

Another guest looked at Isobel from head to toe, as though trying to determine what kind of secret she could possibly be hiding.

Mary sighed softly, as though Selene’s question had embarrassed her.

"Selene, dear," she said, deliberately softening her voice. "Don’t forget that Isobel was the project lead for KitKat. She must have received a considerable bonus from the project."

She turned to Isobel with a smile.

"After all, such an important project must have paid handsomely."

Selene sneered.

Her gaze swept toward the priceless painting.

"I have to admit, I’m rather envious."

Then, she gave a small laugh.

"Even I, despite managing a high-end shop, would hesitate before spending fifteen million on a single painting."

The implication was unmistakable.

If even Selene Binlei couldn’t casually spend that kind of money, how could Isobel?

Mary immediately seized the opening.

"Exactly." She smiled. "I’m also curious because the amount is truly astonishing."

Isobel’s brows drew together.

She could hear the judgment in their voices. The whispers. The questioning gazes.

They weren’t really interested in where her money came from.

They wanted her to explain herself.

They wanted her to feel ashamed.

Isobel’s gaze slowly moved from Selene to Mary.

"If you can’t afford fifteen million," she said calmly, "that doesn’t mean nobody else can."

The surrounding conversation seemed to quiet.

Selene’s smile stiffened.

Mary, however, merely laughed.

"Isobel is right."

Her tone was pleasant, almost affectionate.

"She certainly has her own ways of making big money."

A strange silence followed.

The words were carefully chosen.

Mary couldn’t say what she was truly implying—not here, not with so many influential people watching.

She couldn’t say that Isobel entered into a surrogacy contract and it was not through IVF.

She couldn’t expose Alexander’s biological mother.

She couldn’t reveal that Isobel bore Kristoff’s child. That secret had to remain buried.

So she left the accusation hanging in the air, allowing everyone’s imagination to fill in the blanks.

A few people exchanged knowing looks.

Isobel understood immediately.

Mary wasn’t questioning her salary.

She was questioning her character.

For a brief moment, Isobel’s fingers tightened around the edge of her clutch.

Then she smiled. It wasn’t a timid smile. It was quiet, composed, and strangely fearless.

"You’re right, Mrs. Dalton."

Mary’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Until Isobel continued.

"I do have my ways."

Her gaze held Mary’s.

"And unlike some people, I don’t need to explain every way I earn my money to satisfy other people’s curiosity."

The smile on Mary’s face froze.

Across the room, Kristoff had been speaking with the CEO of a prominent real-estate company.

But he hadn’t missed a single word.

His expression remained composed as the other CEO continued discussing an upcoming development project.

Yet Kristoff’s attention had already shifted.

His eyes were fixed on Isobel. He knew his mother very well.

He knew what lay beneath that sweet smile.

He knew exactly what she was capable of when she wanted to make someone uncomfortable without getting her own hands dirty.

His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the glass in his hand.

He had believed his mother invited Isobel to the gala because she genuinely wanted to thank her for saving his life.

Apparently, he was wrong.

There was a hidden agenda behind the invitation, and Kristoff didn’t like what he was seeing.

His mother’s carefully chosen words, the smiles, the seemingly innocent questions—all of them were designed to put Isobel on the spot and turn her into someone’s entertainment.

His jaw tightened.

Judging by the way his mother was looking at Isobel now, Kristoff had a sinking feeling that he was going to have to step in before things went any further.

Kristoff set his glass down.

"Excuse me."

His low voice wasn’t loud, yet it cut cleanly through the conversation.

Several heads turned.

Mary’s smile faltered when she saw her son walking toward them.

Kristoff stopped beside Isobel, close enough that his presence immediately changed the atmosphere. Without making a show of it, he positioned himself slightly in front of her, subtly placing his body between Isobel and the two women who had been questioning her.

His dark eyes settled on his mother.

"Mom."

Mary blinked.

"Kristoff, we were just—"

"I know."

His gaze shifted briefly to Selene before returning to Mary.

"I heard the conversation."

The warmth disappeared from Mary’s expression.

Kristoff’s voice remained calm, almost courteous, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

"I was under the impression that you invited Isobel tonight because you wanted to thank her."

Mary’s lips parted.

"I do."

"Then why are you questioning her about how she spends her money?"

The question was simple.

The silence that followed was not.

A few guests who had been pretending not to listen suddenly found the conversation very interesting.

Selene hesitated.

"There was no harm in asking a question."

"Perhaps not."

Kristoff’s expression remained impassive.

"But when a question is asked in front of a room full of people, and everyone is left wondering whether the person being questioned has done something wrong, it stops being simple curiosity."

Selene’s face paled.

Mary’s expression hardened.

"Kristoff, you’re misunderstanding me."

Her voice carried a trace of pleading now, but Kristoff remained unmoved.

"Then let me make myself clear."

He turned toward the room, his gaze sweeping across the gathered guests. The quiet conversations gradually died down as people realized that the usually composed Kristoff Dalton had decided to make a statement.

"Isobel doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for how much money she has or how she chooses to spend it."

His voice was calm, but every word carried unmistakable authority.

"And certainly not tonight."

His eyes settled on his mother.

"I was the one who asked her to come here..."