Ivan Fulton’s driver arrived quickly.
Isla Prescott got in the car. As they neared the bar, Ivan Fulton called her again.
"Isabelle, when you get to the bar, find a staff mber, give them Sean’s na, and have them take you to the private room on the third floor."
"Whose na?"
"Shane Sterling. Sean."
"Is Sean there too?"
"He’s not, but the bar is his."
Isla Prescott had long heard that Shane Sterling owned nurous businesses, but she never knew he also dabbled in nightclubs.
Nocturne Bar.
Neon lights bled through the haze. The uninhibited laughter of n and won, jazz music, and the clinking of glasses wove together into a thick tapestry of noise.
As Isla Prescott stepped through the entrance, she felt as if a world of debauchery and excess had materialized before her very eyes.
She did as Ivan Fulton had instructed, finding a staff mber and giving them Shane Sterling’s na to be led to the VIP room upstairs.
Unlike the clamor downstairs, the third floor was quiet, like a separate space floating above the din, where all disruptive sounds were filtered out.
Ivan Fulton was already waiting for her at the door to the room. Seeing her arrive, he imdiately waved.
"Isabelle, over here."
Isla Prescott walked over. "Where is he?"
Ivan Fulton led her into the room. "He’s asleep."
Silas Lockwood was sitting on the carpet, slumped over a crystal coffee table, fast asleep in an extrely uncomfortable position.
"Look at him. What a state he’s in," Ivan Fulton sighed beside her.
It was true. The Silas Lockwood of the past had soared at thirty thousand feet, the four golden bars on his uniform gleaming brightly. He was the gentle and refined young master of the Lockwood Family, and the ambitious Captain Lockwood.
But the Silas Lockwood before her now had a bluish stubble, his white shirt was like a crumpled newspaper, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He had none of the air of a young master from a prestigious family.
"But things really haven’t been easy for him lately. If I were him, I’d want to numb myself with alcohol too," Ivan Fulton said.
"What exactly happened?" Isla Prescott asked.
"You don’t know?"
"I’ve been at school lately and haven’t been back to the Lockwood estate, so I’m not really sure."
"To put it bluntly, everyone wants to snatch a piece of the Lockwood Group’s pie from Silas. After Uncle Lockwood passed away, not only are those old geezers on the board of directors eyeing it, but even the Sinclair Family has bad intentions. Lydia Sinclair’s brother, Zane Sinclair, is using the marriage connection between Silas and Lydia to start getting his hands on the Lockwood Group. Tell , what kind of monsters are these people?"
When a person loses power, their ’friends’ vanish. It’s all about self-interest. That’s just human nature.
"I didn’t want to call you out to a bar this late at night, but he got drunk and kept calling your na."
’He kept calling my na?’
Isla Prescott felt as if a rusty nail was lodged in her throat, leaving her unable to speak.
Ivan Fulton, unaware of their overlapping history as ex-lovers, was about to say more when Silas Lockwood suddenly started coughing at the coffee table. Imdiately after, he threw up all the alcohol he had just consud.
"Oh no, he’s throwing up!" Ivan Fulton said to Isla Prescott. "You watch him. I’ll go get soone to clean this up."
Silas Lockwood propped himself up with his hands on the sofa and the coffee table, his face pale from retching.
Isla Prescott walked to his side, casually twisted open a bottle of mineral water, and handed it to him.
Silas Lockwood took the water and looked up at her.
"Isabelle? Is that you, Isabelle?"
He probably thought he was hallucinating from the alcohol and subconsciously raised his hand to touch her face to make sure.
"Silas!"
As if on cue, at the exact mont he raised his hand, Lydia Sinclair walked in.
--
Isla Prescott was actually about to dodge Silas Lockwood’s hand, but before she could even react, Lydia Sinclair stord over to her in a rage.
"Isla Prescott, I knew you were up to no good!" Without another word, Lydia Sinclair grabbed Isla by the collar. "Tell , are you after Silas? Are you trying to seduce him?"
Isla Prescott thought the woman was being completely unreasonable. When Lydia Sinclair had walked in, it was clearly Silas Lockwood reaching for her, yet now she was being painted as the one with ill intentions.
"I’m not after anyone, and I’m not seducing anyone. Please don’t make baseless accusations." Isla Prescott forcefully pushed Lydia Sinclair away. "If you don’t want to see , I can leave right now."
After saying her piece, she turned and started to walk away.
Lydia Sinclair stumbled a couple of steps in her high heels, steadied herself against the wall, and then imdiately ran over to grab her again.
"You’re leaving after just a few words? If that’s not a guilty conscience, what is?"
Annoyed by Lydia Sinclair’s persistence, Isla Prescott thought, ’Where did Ethan go to get help? What’s taking him so long?’
"Miss Sinclair, it was Ethan who called and asked to co pick soone up. If I had known you were coming, I wouldn’t have made the trip. I have nothing to feel guilty about."
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