Chapter 9 The Thornton Family Visits
How could Gareth have known? There wasn't a single trace of the Tudor Family or the Hamilton Family's children on any public search engine. Of course not—families of their stature would never allow personal information to be so easily accessible.
"Well, that's a relief, Dad. Now I can stop worrying." Stella finally breathed easy.
Julia interjected, "But that man who called himself Jonathan—he seemed so distinguished. He couldn't have been an impostor, could he?"
She sat slicing fruit as she recalled Jonathan's demeanor. "My guess is, the man who came to pick up Isabella was probably a bodyguard from the Hamilton Family, just playing along with their name."
"Or maybe," Julia continued, "Jonathan, being a young lord from Eltheron, was at the TV station on business and happened to run into Isabella's brother. Maybe they're just casual acquaintances."
"I doubt they're close," Julia added, her voice cutting. "Given how Isabella flirts her way into people's good graces, her real parents couldn't possibly be anyone of significance."
"Mom, what are you implying?" Stella frowned.
"Oh, darling, don't be naive. The elite always marry within their own circles. But tell me, have you ever seen a proper heiress as striking as her? That's why so many of them chase after models or starlets, have a few illegitimate children, and hope for better genes."
"We haven't found anything on Isabella's real parents, but trust me, there's no way they're wealthy. If they were, why haven't they come looking for her after all these years?"
"Is there any need to say all this to our daughter?" Gareth cut in, his voice edged with annoyance.
Julia quickly changed the subject, glancing at the invitation on the table. "Sweetheart, if you want to know whether that man really is Jonathan, it's simple. We'll just go to the Hamilton Family ourselves.
"Tradition dictates that every year, the winners and runners-up of the socialite gala are invited to a banquet, where the elite families of Eltheron meet the debutantes.
"This year, the Hamilton Family is hosting. We've received an invitation as well. Come on, Stella, let's pay them a visit."
"That's wonderful! Mom, let's go!" Stella's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Wait, I need to change into my prettiest dress. I want Jonathan to be absolutely smitten when he sees me."
She twirled in the living room, then dashed upstairs, giddy with anticipation.
Gareth watched his daughter disappear up the stairs, lost in thought.
What a shame Isabella had been taken away—such a beautiful girl. If only Julia and Stella hadn't been so short-sighted, they might have kept Isabella around longer, perhaps marrying her off to some branch of a noble house, bringing the Thornton Family tremendous benefit.
If the opportunity arose, Gareth would still try to mend things with Isabella. Regardless of her family's wealth, he knew her value—she was, after all, far more capable than his own daughter, Stella.The Hamilton Manor
Standing before the grandeur of Hamilton Manor, Stella's eyes gleamed. If she could marry into the Hamilton Family, become its future mistress, her status would be unmatched—every socialite in Eltheron would have to bow to her.
Straightening her posture, Stella strode confidently toward the manor gates.
"Halt. Who are you?" The security guard stepped forward, blocking their path.
"How dare you speak to me like that? I'm the future lady of the Hamilton Family!" Stella declared, her voice brimming with arrogance.
"Future lady?" The guard nearly laughed out loud but kept his composure. "Miss, this is the Hamilton Manor, not an asylum. Are you sure you're in the right place?"
Stella, seething but unwilling to lose face, flashed her invitation. "I'm an honored guest of the Hamilton Family. Are you sure you want to stop me here? If you lose your job over this, don't expect me to plead your case."
The guard, having caught a glimpse of the socialite gala invitation, radioed for a golf cart to escort the pair inside.
As they entered the reception hall, a butler hurried over. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hamilton just stepped out."
"Do you know where he went?" Julia inquired.
"He's gone to the Tudor Family's estate—not far, just over the hill."
"The Tudor Family? You mean Eltheron's second most prominent family?" Julia asked, eyes widening.
The butler nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Thank you. We'll head to the Tudor Family and find Mr. Hamilton ourselves," Julia said, already leading Stella out.
"Why not just wait here for him, Mom?" Stella asked, puzzled.
"Oh, sweetheart, this is the perfect chance to get acquainted with the Tudor Family as well. These elite families all know each other. If the Hamiltons are hosting the gala, the Tudors will surely attend. Meeting them in advance could only help you—imagine having two powerful friends at the event."
"Mom, you really do think of everything!" Stella beamed, clinging to her mother's arm like an eager little bird.
They hurried to the Tudor Manor, and on mentioning Jonathan at the gate, were promptly let in.
Meanwhile, in the garden pavilion, Isabella and Brandon were deep in conversation—just as Stella arrived and spotted them. The sunlight glinted off the large pruning shears in Isabella's hands, making them look almost menacing.
"See, Mom? I told you—look at Isabella. How could she possibly have any wealthy relatives? She's just a gardener's sister, playing at being a socialite and trying to cozy up to the Hamilton Family!" Stella's shrill voice echoed through the garden, drawing curious glances from nearby guests.
For a moment, Stella thought everyone was staring because she was just that beautiful.
Chin held high, she strutted forward. "Isabella, don't you have any manners? Didn't your family teach you to greet your elders?"
Seeing Stella and Julia, Isabella felt a wave of irritation. She turned away, tugging Brandon toward the house.
"Stop right there, Isabella!" Stella called after her. "What are you running from? Feeling guilty? Or is it because your gardener brother's cover was blown?"
Isabella turned, her gaze cool. "Guilty? Hardly. We just don't want to waste time talking to someone as ugly as you."
"You dare call me ugly?" Stella's temper snapped. She swung her purse at Isabella's face.
Brandon stepped in, blocking the blow and gently pushing Stella back into Julia's arms.
Stella looked up, stunned by Brandon's height and striking features—his knitted sweater, his calm, confident air. Her knees went weak, and her heart began to race.