Chapter 289: Diamond In The Rough

Marco Pollus might not have received an invitation to Julian Foster’s grand celebration, but that hardly meant he was blind to what was happening inside the banquet hall.

An invitation was merely a piece of paper. Information, on the other hand, was something money and influence could always buy.

At that very moment, a live feed from the party played on the enormous LED screen in the living room of his luxurious penthouse at Crown Residences. The flickering images illuminated the dimly lit room, capturing every important moment of the celebration—including Julian Foster’s proud announcement about his newly discovered daughter.

Beside Marco, Charlotte sat rigidly on the loveseat, her eyes fixed on the screen.

She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"Isobel is Julian Foster’s daughter?" she murmured, as though repeating the words might somehow make them less absurd. Her eyes widened as the implications sank in.

"Does that mean she’s now an heiress to the Foster business empire?"

The Foster family was no ordinary wealthy household. Their business interests stretched across multiple industries, and their influence reached far beyond the corporate world.

To be recognized as Julian Foster’s daughter meant Isobel had suddenly acquired a name, a position, and a future that most people could only dream of.

Charlotte’s fingers curled tightly against her skirt.

Then another thought struck her.

"Wouldn’t that make Kristoff want her even more?"

The question escaped her lips before she could stop herself.

Her gaze remained fixed on the screen, where Isobel stood beside Julian, receiving congratulations from the distinguished guests. She looked composed and elegant, as though she had been born to stand among the powerful and influential.

Charlotte’s chest tightened.

Did Kristoff know about this beforehand?

The possibility gnawed at her.

Was that why he broke off our engagement? Did he already know Isobel was Julian Foster’s daughter and decide she was a better choice?

Charlotte’s heart twisted painfully.

Kristoff had once told her that she was the most precious pearl he had ever found. She could still remember the tenderness in his voice, the way he had looked into her eyes as though she were the only woman in the world.

Back then, she had believed every word.

Now, the memory felt like a cruel joke.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips as her gaze returned to the screen, where Kristoff’s former lover was being welcomed into the Foster family.

I wonder what sweet words you used to win her over.

Perhaps he had told Isobel that she was a diamond in the rough he had discovered, a priceless treasure hidden from the world—just as he had once made Charlotte believe she was his most precious pearl.

The same sweet words. The same tender promises. Only the woman had changed.

Perhaps he had looked into Isobel’s eyes with the same affection he had once shown Charlotte. Perhaps he had made her feel just as cherished, just as irreplaceable, while Charlotte was left to wonder what she had done wrong. (She could not accept the fact that it was because she harmed Alex.)

The thought made her stomach churn.

Liar!

Her teeth sank into her lower lip. She bit down so hard that a sharp sting brought the metallic taste of blood to her mouth, but she barely noticed.

The humiliation of being rejected by Kristoff had already wounded her pride. Now, the thought that he might have abandoned her for a woman who had suddenly become an heiress only made the rejection more unbearable.

Her hands trembled with rage.

Kristoff had humiliated her. Isobel had taken the place she believed should have been hers.

And now, fate had handed Isobel everything Charlotte could only envy.

Her hatred for Kristoff deepened, but the resentment she harbored toward Isobel burned even hotter.

Across from her, Marco watched the same footage with a very different expression.

"So, she’s a Foster heiress now," he murmured, leaning back against the loveseat with an amused smile.

At last, the pieces were beginning to fall into place.

He had once tried to entice Isobel with an offer, believing that the right price and the right incentives might persuade her to cooperate with him. Yet she refused to be tempted.

At the time, he had found her resistance irritating.

Now, he understood.

"No wonder she wasn’t interested in my offer," he said, a low chuckle escaping him.

"Why would she settle for a little benefit from me when she stands to inherit a fortune from the Fosters?"

His eyes narrowed as he considered the implications.

Isobel’s newfound identity made her far more valuable than he had initially assumed. Her connection to Julian Foster could give her influence over the family empire—and potentially strengthen her position within Aioryx as well.

A slow smile spread across his face.

Perhaps his previous approach had been a mistake. He had underestimated the woman.

But Marco Pollus was not the sort of man who abandoned a useful opportunity simply because his first attempt had failed.

His gaze gradually shifted from the screen to Charlotte.

She was still staring at Isobel, her face twisted with jealousy, her wounded pride feeding a hatred that grew with every passing second.

Marco studied her in silence.

He recognized that expression. He had seen it often enough in people who had lost something they believed they deserved.

People like Charlotte were dangerous when they had something to lose—but even more dangerous when they believed they had already lost everything.

And right now, Charlotte had plenty of reasons to hate Isobel.

The corner of Marco’s mouth lifted.

What an interesting turn of events.

He had been looking for a way to deal with Isobel, and now an opportunity had practically delivered itself to his doorstep.

Why waste time trying to manipulate someone who refused to be bought when he could use someone whose resentment was already doing half the work for him?

Marco leaned slightly toward Charlotte, his smile turning deceptively warm.

"Tell me, Charlotte," he said casually, as though asking an innocent question, "how much do you really hate Isobel?"

Charlotte slowly turned her head toward him.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and a thin red mark stained her lower lip. For a moment, she said nothing. Then her expression hardened.

"More than you can imagine."

Marco’s smile widened.

Excellent.

He had found his pawn.

And judging by the hatred burning in Charlotte’s eyes, she might prove to be a far more useful one than he had ever anticipated.