Cleo stepped out of the elevator into the bustling main lobby, the air thick with the sounds of a city hospital. She just wanted to get outside, to breathe air that wasn't tainted with disinfectant and humiliation.
"Cleo, please wait!"
Isabelle's voice, sharp and demanding, cut through the noise.
Cleo didn't stop. She walked faster.
The click-clack of high heels hurried behind her. Isabelle cut her off at the main entrance, her mask of gentleness gone, replaced by an ugly flush of anger. Axel followed a few paces behind, hands in his pockets, observing like a king watching a minor squabble.
"What was that attitude back there?" Isabelle demanded. "I was giving you a kind reminder, and you give me that look?"
People milling around the lobby started to notice, their curious glances turning into stares.
Cleo looked at her, her voice quiet but clear. "A reminder? Miss Vanderbilt, I don't believe we're familiar enough for you to 'remind' me how to live my life."
She deliberately used the formal "Miss Vanderbilt," drawing a clear line in the sand.
Isabelle's face tightened. "You... what is that supposed to mean? Do you still think you're the housekeeper's daughter who successfully forced a marriage with a fake pregnancy three years ago?"
The words "forced a marriage" were like a poison dart. The murmurs from the crowd grew louder.
Axel's jaw clenched. The old, ugly story was a stain on his name, and he hated being reminded of it.
A cold, humorless smile touched Cleo's lips. The pain was a familiar ache, but today, something had snapped.
"Miss Vanderbilt," she stepped closer, her voice low but every word precise, "instead of worrying about my past, perhaps you should focus on securing your present."
Her gaze flicked meaningfully to the new-season Hermès bag clutched in Isabelle's hand. "After all, things that come from a man are like castles made of sand. One wave, and it's all gone."
The jab hit its mark. Isabelle's family was a minor branch of the Vanderbilts; her entire standing in New York society was propped up by Axel's favor.
The blood drained from Isabelle's face. Her lips trembled with rage. "You... how dare you speak to me like that!"
"Why wouldn't I dare?" Cleo stood straight, her gaze steady. "My marriage has three months left. But for these three months, I am still the legal Mrs. Beaumont. And you, Miss Vanderbilt, what are you?"
The directness of the attack, the cold logic, left the usually articulate Isabelle speechless.
Even the onlookers seemed impressed, their expressions shifting from curiosity to a kind of grudging admiration.
Shame and fury warred on Isabelle's face. Her eyes instantly welled with tears as she turned to the silent Axel. "Axel... did you hear her? How could she humiliate me like this..."
Axel's face was a thundercloud. He wasn't angry because Cleo had insulted Isabelle. He was angry because Cleo had disobeyed. She had challenged his control.
He strode forward and grabbed Cleo's wrist. His grip was like iron. A sharp pain shot up her arm.
"Cleo Dorsey, who gave you the nerve?" His voice was a low growl of fury. "Apologize to Isabelle. Now."
The bones in her wrist felt like they were about to crack, but Cleo lifted her chin, meeting his furious gaze without flinching. "I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?"
"You!" Her defiance pushed him over the edge.
"Axel, forget it..." Isabelle "kindly" interjected from the side, while shooting Cleo a triumphant look.
Her fake magnanimity was like gasoline on a fire.
"Apologize!" he repeated, his grip tightening, his voice a harsh command.
A cold sweat broke out on Cleo's brow from the pain, but she clenched her jaw and said nothing. Her silent, stubborn resistance was, in his eyes, another unforgivable provocation.
Suddenly, Isabelle let out a small cry, "Ah!" and stumbled, as if Cleo's struggling had accidentally pushed her.
Axel immediately released Cleo and steadied Isabelle. "Izzy, are you alright?"
"I'm fine... I just twisted my ankle..." Isabelle whimpered, leaning heavily against him, tears streaming down her face.
Axel shot Cleo a look of pure disgust. The loathing in his eyes was so cold, so absolute, it made Cleo's heart plummet into an icy abyss.
He didn't bother speaking to her again. He simply scooped Isabelle into his arms and, under the watchful eyes of the entire lobby, strode out of the hospital.
