Chapter 1 Three Deaths After Divorce

The night outside the hospital was enveloped in pitch-black darkness, with the rain falling in a mournful, plaintive rhythm.

"Miss, your injuries are extremely severe. You have multiple fractures throughout your body and are also suffering from a hemothorax. Your unborn child is also in great danger," the doctor explained solemnly, adjusting his glasses. "The situation is critical, and we need to perform surgery on you immediately. We require your family to sign the consent form. Have your family members not arrived yet?"

Rose Sherman lay on the hospital bed, her condition precarious, her face as pale as paper from the excruciating pain. She clutched her phone tightly in her hand.

She glanced at the screen, which displayed numerous unanswered calls to a contact labeled as [Hubby].

Her husband, Theodore Fletcher, was a prominent figure in Yannopolis, a legend in the business world with unrivaled influence.

Rose and Theodore's first crush had been in a car accident, but Theodore's attention had been solely on others, neglecting his wife's well-being and that of their unborn child.

With lifeless eyes and a weak voice, Rose implored the doctor, "Please, let me sign the form myself. I must ensure the safety of my child."

The doctor sighed.

A moment later, Rose's phone rang again.

She looked at the screen, where the word [Hubby] flashed prominently.

A spark seemed to ignite in her eyes.

She picked up the phone, and a voice, sweet and coquettish, came through. "Are you desperately searching for Theo to sign the surgery consent form due to your severe injury? But he's reluctant to come. I've only scratched my foot slightly, but he insists on getting the medicine and applying it himself, claiming he can't trust anyone else. So... you, the nuisance, and the little rascal in your belly just await your fate."

A fit of intense irritation caused Rose to cough uncontrollably, and she eventually lost consciousness.

When she regained consciousness, she found a divorce agreement waiting for her.

"What about the child...? Don't you want it?" She gently touched her swollen belly, her trembling lip caught between her teeth, her eyes filled with pain as she looked at him.

She was so heartbroken that she felt a sharp pang in her heart as if someone had cleaved it in two, leaving both halves bleeding.

Anger flared in Theodore's eyes. "You know very well how this child came into being. I've already shown mercy by not pressuring you to terminate the pregnancy for the sake of Grandma. Yet, you've used the child as a pawn repeatedly, even resorting to drastic measures like causing a car accident. Do you expect me to forgive you once more, all for the sake of the child? I won't give you another chance to harm Sammy!"

Rose couldn't help but wonder, "Drastic measures? Did I intentionally cause the accident, injuring myself like this, just to gain his sympathy? Or was it to take Samantha's life and end up in jail? I'd have to be crazy to do all that! Alas, would any explanation make a difference? He won't believe anything I say. I've been misunderstood countless times before, and in the end, he always sides with Samantha, doesn't he?"

"Sign it; don't waste my time. As a token of the three years you've spent with me, I'll give you a ten percent stake in Fletcher Group, and the mansion at Hillside Manor will be transferred to your name," Theodore declared firmly.

Their marriage had been arranged by Theodore's grandmother, Doreen Fletcher, and Rose had held onto the belief that she could eventually win his affection.

Despite three years of being diligent, attentive, and dedicated to him, earning her a reputation as the perfect wife in Yannopolis' high society, he remained cold and distant.

"Let's just end it and spare each other," Rose thought, her hands trembling as she signed her name on the divorce agreement.

Each stroke of the pen was deliberate and serious, much like the day they had signed their marriage certificate.

Theodore took the signed agreement and got up to leave.

Watching his resolute figure depart, Rose struggled to breathe, feeling her organs churn with discomfort. Her abdomen throbbed in agonizing pain.

A strong smell of blood welled up in her throat, and red blood stained the pristine white sheets.

Between her legs, a striking red stained the bedsheets, where crimson and white intermingled, creating a sight both startling and chilling.

Beside her, the ECG detector blared an alarming sound, and the wavy lines on the screen gradually straightened into a flat line as the alarm faded.

Four years later, in the VIP corridor of Yannopolis International Airport, a woman with stylish black sunglasses and an elegant gait exuding confidence and beauty walked gracefully in high heels, dragging a suitcase behind her, creating a rhythmic thud as she appeared.

This woman was none other than Rose, who had been absent from Yannopolis for four long years.

More accurately, she was now Isabella Sullivan.

Four years ago, on the brink of death, she was found by the Sullivan family, who brought her to Xandenia. There, they sought the expertise of the Medical Maestro, who miraculously pulled her back from the brink of death.

Embracing her newfound heritage, she became a member of Xandenia's prestigious jewelry family as the youngest daughter of the Sullivan family—Isabella Sullivan.

"Mommy, hurry up... I can't hold it much longer!"

"Mommy, me too! I really need to pee!"

Isabella hadn't even had a chance to feel melancholy upon her return when both of her sons tugged at her clothing, their little faces contorted in discomfort as they gazed up at her.

"Pfft..." Watching her incredibly adorable sons, Isabella couldn't help but laugh. "All right, all right. I'll take you to find the restroom. Just hold on a little longer."

At the restroom entrance, she watched them rush into the restroom and reminded them, "I'll wait right here at the door."

"Got it," they replied.

Isabella smiled faintly, her face radiating with affection and happiness.

Isabella had survived thanks to the efforts of Medical Maestro, who not only saved her life but also her unborn triplets.

She gave birth to triplets, but sadly, the youngest girl had no signs of life from the moment she was born. Only the two boys were fortunate enough to survive.

The surviving boys were named Finley Isaac Sullivan and Cayden Isaac Sullivan.

Finley, the older one, showed exceptional talent in computer programming and finance, becoming a stock market prodigy and earning a place in the top 100 of the Global Hacker Leaderboard at a young age.

Cayden, the younger son, displayed natural abilities in fashion, jewelry design, and antique appraisal. His creations earned him first place in the children's category. of the Starshine Design Awards.

Perhaps it was the strength of that man's genes, these two sons possessed an astonishing level of intelligence, bordering on prodigious. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call them child prodigies.

Furthermore, their physical resemblance to that man was striking, sharing about 70 to 80 percent of his features.

Amidst her thoughts, as Isabella was sending a reassuring message to her family, a delicately beautiful little girl suddenly appeared and hugged her leg. The girl's sweet, childish voice called out to her. "Ms. Pretty..."

Isabella was taken aback for a moment, staring at the girl who bore a remarkable resemblance to her. Finally, she spoke. "Where did you come from, cutie pie? Is there something you need?"

The adorable child tilted her head and blinked her big, clear, and expressive eyes at Isabella, asking, "Are you married or do you have a boyfriend, Ms. Pretty?"

Such an utterly adorable expression could melt anyone's heart.

Isabella crouched down, smiled, and inquired, "Cutie pie, are you trying to introduce me to someone special?"

"Ms. Pretty, how about you marry my daddy and be my mommy?" The little girl looked at her with anticipation. "My daddy isn't just handsome, but he's also wealthy. Despite being a bit older, you wouldn't even notice because he takes excellent care of himself. Most importantly, he's kind and thoughtful, and he..."

The little girl continued chattering, attempting to make her case, when a woman dressed as a housekeeper hurried over and lifted her up. "My little sweetheart, how did you manage to slip away and come here? Mr. Stewart is about to come out, and if you get lost, it will be a big trouble."

The little girl, with a serious tone, added, "Carol, I'm getting Daddy a wife. If I don't work hard, when will he ever get married?"

"I'm sorry for the interruption, Miss." After apologizing politely to Isabella, Carol departed with the little girl in her arms.

As they walked away, Isabella noticed a piece of paper stuck to the girl's back. It featured a crayon drawing of a man's face, likely the little girl's doing, along with a brief introduction: [A man with a troublesome daughter is looking for a wife. Any woman will do.]

The drawing, introduction, and conditions were indeed filled with "sincerity."

Isabella couldn't help but ponder the situation. The girl had clearly been on a mission to find a wife for her dad, and it left Isabella wondering about the child's mother. She seemed to be around the same age as Finley and Cayden. The absence of a mother figure for such a young child weighed heavily on Isabella's mind, causing an inexplicable ache in her heart.

"Mommy, we're done. We can go now," her two sons announced, snapping Isabella out of her thoughts. She hailed a taxi and left the airport with them.

Meanwhile, on the other side, the man followed his daughter's pointing finger but only managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the woman getting into a car and speeding away. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen a striking resemblance to his late ex-wife, leading him to wonder if it was merely his imagination playing tricks on him.

Chapter 2 The First Meeting

In the arms of the man, a little girl was tugging on his ear with an impatient look, anxiously urging him, "Daddy, hurry up! We need to run! Ms. Pretty is about to leave! Come on, hurry..."

"All right, all right! Sweetie, my precious daughter, please be gentle. My ear is about to be pulled off by you." The little witch had him under her spell, and the man had no choice but to go along with her whims helplessly.

They watched as the car sped away, but they were unable to catch up.

"Oh..."

The little girl shook her head with regret and said, "Daddy, it's all your fault for being so slow! Ms. Pretty has gone far away. How many times has this happened? It must be some flaw in you that makes my sales pitch fail every time."

"What a disdainful expression! You're a heartless little one," said the man helplessly while pinching her nose in affection.

The girl raised her chin proudly. "Daddy, was what I said wrong? You need to find the reason on your own."

"All right, all right. I'll find the reason."

The girl, with a sweet yet serious tone, continued, "Daddy, seriously! If you keep going on like this, you'll end up all alone when I get married. I won't feel at ease if that happens!"

"You're thinking about marriage at such a young age?"

"I'm talking about the future."

"Okay, I will try harder." While reassuring his daughter, the man hurriedly left the airport.

"Daddy, I've suffered great trauma both mentally and physically. I need to eat a soufflé to feel better." The little girl then pretended to be heartbroken.

"All right, I will take you out to have some now. Don't be sad." It just so happened that he had to attend an auction at Empire Hotel, so he readily agreed.

The little girl clapped her hands in delight as a joyful smile graced her face.

"What should a father do when his daughter prefers soufflé or desserts over him?" wondered the man.

In the car, Finley, who remained as composed as a tiny adult, tilted his head and asked Isabella, "Mommy, are we going straight to Empire Hotel?"

"Yes. The auction is about to begin, and the organizer is waiting for me," Isabella replied, ruffling her son's hair. "You two promised me that you'd behave and not wander around under any circumstances when I'm working. Don't make blank promises only to break them later."

"We know, we won't misbehave."

"Yeah, we promise."

The two children replied in unison, yet a hint of mischief flashed in their eyes.

The mistress who once bullied Isabella and the dishonorable man who abandoned his family were both in Yannopolis.

As their mommy's protectors, they were determined to find them and "deal with them" properly.

This time, Isabella was invited to return to her home country for antique appraisals in an auction. She was only staying there for about a few days.

She initially didn't plan to bring the two little ones with her, but they insisted on coming along using their cuteness and charm. In the end, Isabella relented.

After getting their assurances multiple times, she finally agreed to take Finley and Cayden with her.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the entrance of the Empire Hotel.

The three of them got out of the car, entered the hotel lobby, and took the VIP elevator to the top floor of the hotel.

Ding!

The elevator doors opened, and the person waiting to receive Isabella was already at the door. He politely led her to the room where the auction lots were stored.

Inside the room, the organizer of the auction was pacing about anxiously.

When he saw the arrival of Isabelle and the two children, he was first taken aback and then asked in confusion, "May I ask which one of you is Mr. Jones, the antique appraiser?"

Isabella extended her hand with a smile and greeted him politely. "Hello, I am Mr. Jones."

"Huh? You are Mr. Jones?" The organizer's eyes widened further with disbelief and suspicion on his face.

"Mr. Jones, the rumored top appraiser is supposed to be an elderly man over fifty. How could she be a woman? No. To be precise, she is a young lady in her twenties. Did the receptionists make a mistake?" he wondered.

Cayden was already used to this situation and paid no attention to the organizer's astonishment. He went straight to the long table where the auction items were placed.

"I'm indeed Mr. Jones, and here is the invitation you sent me before. You can have a look." Given that the organizer still seemed a little suspicious, Isabella showed him her invitation. Only then did the organizer let go of his skepticism.

"Ms. Jones..." the organizer hesitated while addressing Isabella.

"Just call me Mr. Jones."

Appraisers typically used pseudonyms to avoid unnecessary trouble or draw ire to themselves.

"Mr. Jones? This way, please." The manager was about to lead her to the table, but at this moment, Finley suddenly said he needed to use the restroom.

Isabella couldn't leave just yet, so she asked the greeter outside to accompany Finley.

Meanwhile, Cayden had already examined everything on the table.

Isabella approached and patted Cayden's head. "How's it going, darling? Any problems?"

"Hmm... there's nothing particularly valuable," Cayden said bluntly. Then, he asked in confusion, "Mommy, why did you take on such a small-scale auction?"

"Uh..." The organizer, having heard Cayden's words, looked visibly uncomfortable.

"He's merely a child who appears to be only three or four years old. How could he have such a discerning eye and tell what's valuable at a glance?" he thought.

"I apologize. Children don't always choose their words carefully."

Isabella apologized with a smile, then crouched down to explain things to her son. "Cayden, this auction isn't large in scale. I accepted the invitation because it's a charity auction. All the proceeds will be donated to an orphanage. It's something that kind-hearted people do to help many children who don't have parents. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Cayden nodded and then sincerely apologized to the organizer. "I'm sorry, I misspoke earlier. I didn't mean to belittle these items."

"It's okay, young man. You're very impressive." The organizer's heart was about to melt as he looked at the well-behaved and cute child.

Of course, he could not hold a grudge against Cayden. On top of that, the kid was merely stating the truth.

"Mommy, one item in the pile is worth something, but unfortunately, it's an imitation." Cayden pointed to one of the auction lots on the table and revealed the truth.

"An imitation?" exclaimed the organizer.

Disbelief was written all over the organizer's face. "How could someone donate a replica to a charity auction? It would tarnish our reputation!" he thought.

"Let me take a look." Isabella, although confident in her son's judgment, carefully examined the item. "Indeed, it's an imitation."

Little did she know that the owner of this imitation was someone she never wanted to see again for the rest of her life.

Furthermore, her appraisal could lead to dire consequences for the man.

"I shouldn't have drunk so much juice on the plane. Ah..."

Meanwhile, Finley was muttering to himself as he rushed into the restroom in a hurry.

Due to his urgency, he didn't notice and accidentally bumped into a man's leg, who deftly caught him.

Chapter 3 Encountering Her Former Husband

"Thank you, mister."

The man, nearly six feet three inches tall, exuded a commanding presence. His figure was tall and defined. He was dressed in a haute couture navy blue pinstripe suit, and an air of coldness surrounded him.

He looked very handsome for a man in his early thirties. The contours of his face were sharp and chiseled as if they were carved out with a knife. The expression on his face was also as cold as the arctic weather, making Finley feel slightly uneasy.

Finley hurriedly apologized, "I-I'm sorry, mister. I bumped into you."

"It's okay."

Looking at the child in front of him, Theodore felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if he had seen him somewhere before. This familiarity melted a bit of the coldness on his face. "Kiddo, what did you bump? Does it hurt?"

Finley hurriedly shook his head. "No."

"That's good. Take care while walking." As Theodore watched the child shaking his head like a bobblehead figurine, he couldn't help but crack a faint smile.

The little boy really caught his eye, and Theodore could not help but like him.

The man's smile melted away Finley's unease, and he returned a big smile. "Thank you, mister. I understand. I'll be more careful."

The two of them, one large and one small, smiled in unison.

"Mister, I can't hold it anymore. I need to use the restroom."

As Theodore watched the little figure rush inside, something flashed in his mind, but he couldn't grasp it before it slipped away.

After he turned around, his expression instantly returned to its icy demeanor as he walked back to the auction venue.

When Finley returned, Isabella had already completed her appraisal work.

The organizer personally escorted them to the door of the room and left after thanking them repeatedly.

"Mommy, you've worked hard. Let me give you a massage."

"Mommy, you've worked hard. Have some water."

Once they entered the room and sat down, the two children attentively massaged her shoulders, patted her back, and poured her something to drink.

Isabella affectionately patted their little heads. "I'm not tired at all. Who wants to take a bath first?"

"I want to go first." Cayden was already feeling a bit tired, so he eagerly volunteered to take a bath first.

Isabella asked, "Do you need my help?"

"No, thanks." Cayden blushed and closed the bathroom door.

Finley and Cayden took a shower one after the other and soon went to bed.

Ding-dong!

Isabella kissed her two sons on their foreheads. When she got up to take a shower, the doorbell rang.

When she opened the door, she found the same organizer standing outside, looking troubled.

She asked politely, "What's wrong? Is there a dispute over the appraisal results?"

"Indeed, there is a dispute regarding the item you said was an imitation," said the organizer apologetically. "The donor has significant objections and would like you to explain this in person."

"All right, please wait for a moment. I'll go in and fetch some documents."

Isabella turned back into the room to retrieve the prepared materials before following the organizer out.

When they arrived at the entrance of a small meeting room, the organizer knocked on the door.

"Come in."

A deep, cold, and magnetic male voice came from inside.

Isabella was momentarily stunned. Just by hearing those two words, she felt a strange sense of familiarity. It was as if she had heard this man's voice from somewhere before.

Before she could reminisce or think further, the organizer led her inside.

In the meeting room, a man sat on the couch with a cold expression, holding a glass of red wine in his long and elegant hand. He exuded an aura that warned people to keep their distance.

The organizer approached him with the utmost respect. "Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Jones is here. She is the appraiser we hired for this auction, and she appraised the item you donated."

"Mr. Fletcher? Which Fletcher? A Fletcher from Yannopolis?" Isabella thought.

"Rose? Rose Sherman?"

Isabella's vision was momentarily blocked by the organizer. Before she could see the man's face, she heard his voice, which was filled with surprise and shock.

Even though she hadn't heard that voice in four years, she sensed no unfamiliarity at all. In fact, she instantly recognized the owner of that voice.

"It's Theodore!" she exclaimed internally.

Her body froze for a moment, and her hands were balled into fists, with her nails nearly digging into her palms.

This man had once hurt her to the point of despair. She never wanted to see him again for the rest of her life.

"Is fate playing a cruel joke on me?" she thought.

Of all the people to meet on her first day back, it had to be him. It was such an unexpected encounter that she was not prepared for.

The pain in her palms quickly helped her regain her composure. She was no longer the cowardly doormat, Rose.

"Rose Sherman! It's really you!" Theodore radiated an icy chill as he approached Isabella. His large hand, bulging with veins, clamped down on her wrist tightly. That way, he could clearly see her exquisitely beautiful face.

His black pupils constricted sharply, and his eye sockets turned bloodshot and were filled with red veins. Soon, his eyeballs also turned completely red.

"Wasn't she supposed to be dead four years ago?" he thought.

Back then, he had left some of his belongings in the hospital room. When he returned to retrieve them, all he found was a bed covered in bright red blood and a doctor saying, "The patient's remains have been claimed by her family."

"Why are the 'remains' the doctor mentioned now here and alive?" wondered Theodore.

"Mr. Fletcher, I'm Mr. Jones, the appraiser. Have you mistaken me for someone else?"

A faint smirk graced Isabella's lips as she calmly met his furious gaze head-on. Her eyes were filled with mockery and indifference.

The fiery anger in his eyes and the pulsating veins on his forehead indicated just how furious he was.

"Theodore has the audacity to be angry? What right does he have to be upset? After all, wasn't it he who rejected me first, even going so far as to abandon the child growing in my womb? This man, who has callously discarded his wife and child for the sake of a fleeting romance, now has the nerve to act like the victim. It is truly laughable," she thought.

"Mr. Jones? I'm the one who is mistaken?" Theodore sneered and gritted his teeth hard. "Rose! Do you think that changing your name means that I'd be unable to recognize you? You have some nerve to deceive me like this! When have you become this audacious?"

"She has faked her death intentionally, and now she seems utterly unbothered, refusing to admit to any wrongdoings. Does she somehow think she wasn't remotely at fault? Does she have no explanation to offer me?" he thought.

Four years ago, he hadn't loved her at all. However, he had never wished for her death.

Her supposed death had haunted him, leaving him with guilt and a troubled conscience for every single day of the past four years.

As soon as they met, they locked horns like adversaries, creating a tense atmosphere that left everyone else feeling suffocated. The organizer seemed quite puzzled by the situation.

The organizer then summoned his courage and attempted to mediate. "Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Jones is a truly kind-hearted person and has volunteered to do this for free when she heard that it was a charity auction. She had identified an issue regarding the item you donated, but perhaps there's a misunderstanding regarding the appraisal results. Maybe you should..."

"Get out! Get out!"

Before he could finish speaking, Theodore erupted in a furious shout.

The organizer was so startled that he didn't utter another word, hastily retreating and even forgetting to close the door behind him.

Chapter 4 Upset Because I Am Not Dead

The person in charge just wanted to say something for Jada. It had to be said that she charged at least hundreds of thousands of dollars for antique appraisal, and she was indeed taken advantage of, so he thought he definitely needed to defend her.

"But why is Mr. Fletcher so angry that he looks like he's about to strangle her to death? What in the world is going on?" he wondered in confusion.

"Mr. Fletcher, I may get it wrong if you grab me like this."

Isabella was deliberately provoking Theodore because his grip really hurt her.

The bones of her wrist felt like they were about to be crushed by him, and she simply wanted to break free from his grasp and leave this suffocating parlor.

At present, the only thought in her mind was to escape. She wanted to flee to the ends of the world with her sons and not have any more involvement with Theodore.

Had she known she would bump into him, she would've never returned to the country, let alone accept this auction's antique appraisal job.

Theodore narrowed his eyes and looked down at her condescendingly. "Get me wrong? What do you mean?"

"I may misunderstand that you've fallen for me at first sight and are making excuses to strike up a conversation with me. But your excuse is too cliché and has become outdated since ten years ago." Every word of Isabella was undoubtedly challenging his boundaries.

Theodore, who had always been insufferably arrogant, high and mighty, and highly sought after, would certainly not tolerate such sarcasm.

"Humph!" He suddenly pinched her chin with his fingers, and his gaze became even more frighteningly grim. "Fallen for you at first sight? You really think too highly of yourself."

Isabella turned her head and tried to break free from his hand but to no avail. Even when she used her hands to pry it away, his hand still held on as strongly as a crocodile's bite force, so she had no choice but to give up resisting.

"Don't you think you should give me an explanation, Rose Sherman?" he demanded.

The man's hand exerted more strength with every word he said. Isabella was in so much pain that her eyes instantly welled up with tears. "Theodore, let go... Ugh..." Before she could finish, his grip intensified.

She hurt so bad that she could not say a word, and her warm tears fell uncontrollably, dropping on the back of his hand.

Upon sensing the scalding temperature of her tears, Theodore returned to his senses in an instant, and his rage also slightly dissipated. He hurriedly released her chin.

Her cheeks had already been marked with obvious fingerprints. The bruise and redness made her look pitiful and stirred up people's urge to protect her.

"Oh, so you're not calling me 'Mr. Fletcher' anymore? Have you finally remembered my name?" he ridiculed.

Stubbornly, Isabella wiped away the tears on her face. As she did not want to be entangled with him anymore, she bent down to pick up the documents that had fallen on the ground.

"That item of yours is indeed an imitation. This is my appraisal certificate. If you still have doubts, feel free to find another appraiser for a second opinion. Should you receive a different result, I will compensate you a hundred times the price of the lot."

She was a professional top antique appraiser. Hence, she was confident and sure of the result.

Theodore frowned and took the appraisal certificate from her. Without even looking at it, he carelessly threw it on the table and enunciated each word, "Rose Sherman, I want you to give me an explanation."

"I've already given you the appraisal certificate. What else do you want me to explain?" Isabella knew this wasn't the answer he wanted, but she still feigned ignorance.

He gritted out, "It's not about the lot. I'm talking about you faking your death and disappearing without a trace."

Knowing she could not fool him anymore, Isabella dropped her act and sneered, staring intently into his eyes. "What? Are you upset because I'm not dead, Mr. Fletcher? Do you find it a shame?" she snapped back.

"Rose! Why did you fake your death? Do you know how many people were hurt by this?"

Theodore's fury, which he had been suppressing with all his might, instantly aroused a second time due to her taunt.

"Did it hurt you? Isn't our current situation just perfect? You go your way, and I go mine. We can totally not interfere with each other in the future, and even if we meet, we can act as strangers," Isabella voiced her actual thoughts.

However much she used to love this man was equivalent to how much she hated and found him repulsive right now. She did not want to have a single thing to do with him at all.

"No way."

To Theodore, she had deceived him for four years, so it would be a pipe dream if she thought she could pretend like nothing ever happened.

Isabella's smile was both sorrowful and mocking. "Of course, if you insist that my survival makes you uncomfortable or troubled, feel free to continue treating me as a dead person and resume living your blissful life with the person you love."

"You lied to me for four years and think you can get away this easily?" Theodore laughed in exasperation. "I'm telling you, dream on!"

Isabella also began seeing red. "Then, what else do you want? We've long been divorced and have nothing to do with each other anymore. Why do you even care whether I'm dead or alive? Don't you think you're being too hypocritical? Are you shedding crocodile tears?"

"You—"

Before Theodore could retort, he was interrupted by his assistant, Lachlan Young, who ran over in a hurry to deliver a message. "Mr. Fletcher! Bad news! Savannah suddenly has a high fever."

"What happened?" Theodore's attention was immediately diverted, and he looked so concerned and anxious that his voice changed. "How could she have a high fever out of the blue? Can't the whole lot of them even take care of a child? Useless pieces of trash!"

Lachlan answered while trembling with fear, "She secretly ate too many soufflés while the nanny was busy, so..."

Savannah had been born prematurely and stayed in the incubator for nearly two months after birth. Thereafter, she continued to remain in rather poor health.

In the past few years, the girl had been suffering from various illnesses endlessly. She was sent to the hospital so frequently that there was even an exclusive ward for her, and the world's top pediatrician also became a permanent resident of their home.

The doctor had said Savannah should absolutely not overconsume food on a whim. But alas, she was a foodie and loved eating desserts and snacks.

Had the nannies not noticed her, she would probably have ended up in the hospital because of excessive eating.

Savannah was Theodore's precious sweetheart and the apple of his eye. He was an excessively doting father who was constantly afraid she would get hurt anytime and anywhere.

Now that she was sick and would surely feel terrible for a few days, Theodore would undoubtedly feel sorry for her. This caused Lachlan to worry about the punishments Theodore would give to the nanny who took care of the girl.

"Go get the car. Send Savannah to the hospital immediately." After saying that, Theodore was about to leave when he momentarily paused at the door and warned Isabella without looking back, "Rose, I'll give you one night to think about what kind of explanation you should give me. Don't ever try to escape before that."

Then, he turned around and instructed Lachlan, "You have one night to find out everything about this Mr. Jada Jones. Without my permission, she's not allowed to leave Yannopolis."

"Got it."

As the two left, a little boy happened to come over behind their backs.