Chapter 3 Two Men

The cold gleam from Stella's manicured nails caught the light as she lunged forward.

Isabella stumbled backward, but not quickly enough—the sharp edge caught her arm, leaving a thin line of blood that began to bead and trickle down her skin.

"I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!" Stella snarled, emboldened by drawing first blood.

Just as Stella raised her hand toward Isabella's face, two strong grips seized her arms simultaneously, stopping her mid-strike.

One belonged to a man with perfectly styled hair swept to one side, his tailored three-piece suit emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean waist—the kind of expensive cut that spoke of serious money.

The other hand belonged to someone with shoulder-length hair, sharp jawline, and piercing eyes that suggested he wasn't someone to cross lightly. He stood even taller than the suited man, his defined wrists and knuckles speaking of controlled strength.

Isabella's breath caught. She recognized him—the mountain climber from before!

"Weren't you all sharp-tongued last time? What happened to that fire?" The mountain climber addressed Isabella directly, not even glancing at Stella.

With a casual flick of his wrist, both men released their grip simultaneously, sending Stella tumbling backward onto the pavement.

"Isabella! I'm your brother—Brandon Tudor!" The suited man pushed past the mountain climber, positioning himself in front of Isabella. His hands fluttered nervously through his hair as he debated between offering a handshake or a hug, clearly torn between formality and familial affection.

Isabella smiled warmly and extended her hand. "Hi, Brandon. It's really nice to finally meet you."

"Wait—you're not going to question whether I'm really your brother?" Brandon's carefully prepared explanations died in his throat at her immediate acceptance.

Isabella tilted her head with an amused expression. "Brandon, if you looked in a mirror, you'd see we're practically twins, wouldn't you?"

The realization hit Brandon like a thunderbolt. He'd always resembled their mother—the fine bone structure, the upturned nose, the perfectly curved lips.

When he'd first seen Isabella on television, hadn't it been precisely because she looked so much like their mother? Which meant Isabella shared at least sixty percent of his features.

"Sorry, I'm just—this is overwhelming. Oh! I forgot introductions—this is my best friend, Jonathan Hamilton!" Brandon gestured toward the mountain climber.

Jonathan?

Isabella's gaze flicked to the newsstand nearby, where this year's "New Billionaires" poster was prominently displayed. That silhouette—it was Jonathan's profile.

So this was what he actually looked like? The thirty-year-old billionaire CEO? Her brother's friend—which meant her future powerful ally?

Jonathan stood with crossed arms, his impatience evident as his security team efficiently approached anyone raising a phone—one guard offering cash, another deleting photos with practiced efficiency.

"Hello... Jonathan," Isabella ventured, unsure of the proper address.

"We're not that close. Don't presume," Jonathan's tone was ice-cold.

But Stella, still sprawled on the ground, perked up with sudden interest. She'd been too dazed from the fall to catch Brandon's introduction, but she'd heard the most important part.

"Mr. Hamilton! You're THE Mr. Hamilton! I'm Stella—surely you remember? Your mother hosted the Eltheron Debutante Ball! I was this year's runner-up!" Stella extended her hand with practiced grace, clearly expecting Jonathan to help her up.

Jonathan's mouth curved into something that might have been a smile. "Runner-up? Then who was the winner?"

The Eltheron Debutante competition demanded more than just pedigree—contestants needed pristine family backgrounds, international school education, and at least one nationally recognized talent.

Beyond that, their appearance underwent rigorous evaluation by Eltheron's top plastic surgeons, examining everything from hair follicle density to bone structure. Only the absolute elite reached the finals.

Isabella had been the undisputed champion. Stella's runner-up position existed solely because Isabella had demanded it as a condition of her participation. The audacity of Julia expecting Isabella to surrender her crown to Stella was laughable.

Without Isabella, Stella was nothing.

Stella bit her lip, unwilling to acknowledge Isabella's superiority, instead batting her eyelashes at Jonathan seductively.

But Jonathan's attention had fixed on the blood still trickling from Isabella's arm. When Brandon showed no signs of leaving, Jonathan's jaw tightened, his tongue pressing against his cheek—a clear sign of mounting irritation.

Brandon caught the sudden chill in the air and turned to see Jonathan's darkening expression. Time to go.

"Isabella, we should head home now," Brandon said, reaching for her arm.

Stella and Julia exchanged a meaningful glance before Stella grabbed Isabella's other arm.

"Isabella, you shouldn't trust strangers so easily. And don't you want to learn more about your true origins?" she whispered urgently.

Isabella pulled free and linked arms with both Jonathan and Brandon.

She said coldly, "No thanks. I have family now, and I can't afford relatives like you. Let's go, Brandon."

"Let go." Jonathan's voice was flat as he stared at Isabella's arm linked through his.

Isabella immediately released her grip on Jonathan's arm, startled by his tone.

Jonathan snorted and strode between them, taking the lead. The moment he moved, the security team that had been dispersed through the crowd fell into formation behind him—two, eight, thirty strong.

"Brandon! He travels with thirty bodyguards?" Isabella whispered in amazement.

Brandon's hand rose instinctively to pat her head, then hesitated, afraid of being too forward. Isabella caught his suspended gesture and guided his hand to rest on her head.

"Brandon, relax! We may not have grown up together, but blood is thicker than water, right? I felt connected to you the moment I saw you!"

"Isabella, I just feel terrible that I found you so late. I've failed you," Brandon's voice cracked, his eyes reddening with emotion.

Isabella quickly linked arms with Brandon as they followed the convoy of bodyguards away from the crowd.

"Hey! Isabella! You can't leave without my permission!" Stella lunged forward, but five black-suited guards formed an impenetrable wall, blocking both her advance and her view.

On the street, an endless line of black Bentleys stretched beyond sight.

"Please, get in!" The booming voice made Isabella jump just as she was about to pledge her loyalty to Brandon.

"Is this my surprise?" Isabella turned to Brandon with wide eyes.

Jonathan stood beside the lead Rolls-Royce Lightning Speed, hands in his pockets, still radiating displeasure.

"Jonathan's idea. We should ride with him—he gets cranky otherwise," Brandon murmured.

While they were still out of Jonathan's earshot, Isabella whispered urgently, "Brandon, are you really close friends with that cold, expressionless man?"

"Absolutely. We grew up together—the Hamilton Manor and our estate share the same mountain. They have the mountainside with stables and forest parks, we have the oceanside with beaches and coastal gardens. Isabella, you should know that when you and Jonathan were children—"

"Enough talking!" Jonathan cut him off sharply, clearly knowing exactly what Brandon was about to reveal.