Chapter 12

Right after that, she flung her hand out and barked at the servants nearby, voice sharp and aggressive. "You three, grab the kid! Take her to the hospital right now! Don't let this woman drag things down any longer!" The servants exchanged uneasy glances, visibly hesitant. "What, even my word doesn't count now?" That one roar had them frozen on the spot. With no other choice, they moved forward stiffly. They reached for Olivia, prying her from Isabelle's arms. Already weak from her illness, Olivia immediately burst into tears, clearly terrified. Her tiny hands flailed in the air as she screamed at the top of her lungs, "Mommy! Mommy!" Isabelle fought back, trying desperately to hold onto her daughter, but the servants restrained her tightly. Her nails dug into their arms, scratching hard enough to draw blood. "You can't take my baby! Give her back! Please, give her back!" Her voice had gone hoarse from crying, sounding like it could break any second. Old Mrs. Hart stood on the side, watching coldly, unmoved by the scene. "Listen well, Isabelle. From now on, don't set foot in this house again. Pull another stunt, and don't blame me for what comes next!" With those words, she turned on her heel, ready to leave. No way she's letting this vixen come in here and ruin Stella and Charles. Still crying, Isabelle looked around frantically, hoping she'd see Charles appear. But he was nowhere to be found. Instead, someone else came down the stairs. Catching sight of movement, Isabelle's eyes lit up for a second—then immediately darkened once she realized who it was. It wasn't Charles. It was the one person she didn't want to see: Stella. Stella walked down gracefully, every step measured. "Isabelle, seriously, save the act. Go home, stop embarrassing yourself." Isabelle clenched her jaw as those words landed, her expression stiffening. But she quickly put on a soft, pitiful look. Lifting her tear-soaked gaze, her voice trembled slightly. "Stella, I'm not trying to steal Charles, really. I'm just... Olivia's sick. I need to get her treated, that's all. Please, just let Charles come see her. She needs her dad." As she spoke, she suddenly swayed, then collapsed onto the ground with a thud, pretending to have fainted. Stella watched from a few steps away, lips curling into a sneer. She dusted off her hands—unnecessarily—then turned to walk inside the villa. Inside, Old Mrs. Hart was still trying to convince Charles to stay for Stella. But let's face it—someone who wants to leave can't be forced to stay. Stella didn't hold back and cut into the conversation. "Grandma, if he wants to go, let him. I really don't care anymore." That line made Charles knit his brows in frustration. Earlier, his grandmother had warned him—if he left now, he needn't call her grandma again.He had already decided not to go, but Stella's snide remarks lit a fire in him again. He shot up from his seat, a cold laugh on his lips. "Alright, since you're putting it that way, I'll go!" Old Mrs. Hart's face turned stormy. "Charles, don't you dare!" "Someone, hold this unfilial brat down and teach him a lesson with the family rules!" Charles clenched his jaw, then dropped to his knees without resistance. His fists curled tight, veins bulging on his forehead. Seeing his miserable state, Old Mrs. Hart's anger eased a bit. She gave a wave. "Bring me the whip. He needs to learn his place today!" A servant quickly came forward holding the whip. Charles closed his eyes, letting each lash land, steady and silent. Through it all, his head replayed Stella's words—"Go if you want. I don't care." He scoffed to himself. That weird hollow feeling creeped in again. He didn't quite understand it, but his chest ached—more than ever. Still, he shoved the feeling aside. Was this woman really planning to divorce him? Just then, a servant rushed in, panicked and unsure. "Sir! It's Miss Isabelle—she fainted at the front gate! Madame Stella said something in front of her... about you and her being together. She couldn't take it!" Clearly, the servant was siding with Isabelle, exaggerating a little. Truth was, it was Isabelle who passed out on her own. But when Charles heard it, his lips curled into a slow, mocking smile. Typical. That woman still had feelings for him. All that talk about divorce? Jealousy, nothing more. Just another one of her tired little games. A nearby maid cast him a startled glance, brows knitting in silent disapproval. She looked like she wanted to speak—but thought better of it. The smile didn't stay long. It faltered, then vanished. A shadow passed over his face. His jaw tightened. And just like that, the smugness drained away, replaced by something far grimmer. Stella... how could she be so cruel? All just to crush Isabelle? He sprang to his feet, turning toward the entrance, ready to go check on Isabelle. "Charles, if you dare leave, I'll bring out the whip again!" Old Mrs. Hart snapped. "Grandma, Isabelle fainted at the door. For the sake of our family's dignity, we can't just—" "Hmph, so what? That's her own problem!" Old Mrs. Hart's tone was ice cold. "If you still acknowledge me as your grandmother, you'll sit right back down. Do you even see me as family anymore? All over that woman—you ignore everything else, even the rules of this house!" While they argued, Isabelle stumbled into the room, pale and trembling. Her voice broke with tears. "Charles, it's Olivia—she's burning with fever. They took her away. Please, help her..."