Chapter 36: Chapter 32: Going to Jail

Everyone turned to see Shane Sterling walking toward them. He wore a cold, unusually stern expression.

“Sean, what are you doing here?” Ivan Fulton asked.

“There was a malicious assault in my bar. Of course I had to come and see.”

As Shane Sterling drew near, he first glanced at Isla Prescott. Her left cheek was clearly swollen, and there was a trace of blood at the corner of her red lips.

He hadn’t seen who slapped Isla, but from the way she kept her eyes lowered, he could guess. Isla Prescott wasn’t some wilting flower who would just take abuse. She wouldn’t let herself be slapped for no reason—unless the person who hit her was Yvette Shaw, someone to whom she felt indebted.

“What’s the situation now?” Shane Sterling asked.

“Silas’s hand is being treated in surgery,” Ivan Fulton said.

“I’m asking about Isabelle’s face.”

“I was the one who slapped her,” Yvette Shaw said, incensed. “What, are you going to stand up for her?”

Shane Sterling chuckled. “Auntie, listen to yourself. I’m not her husband, nor am I her boyfriend. What right do I have to stand up for her over a slap? However, I *am* the owner of the bar, and Isabelle’s life was just threatened in my establishment. I have to give her an explanation for that.”

As he spoke, his smile vanished, his expression changing in an instant. “Miss Sinclair assaulted someone with a weapon in my bar. I’ve already called the police. Miss Sinclair, you’d better get ready for a nice, long stay in prison.”

No matter how arrogant and ignorant Lydia Sinclair was, she knew she had indeed broken the law. If she had caused trouble elsewhere, the Sinclair Family might have been able to protect her. But this was Shane Sterling’s territory. Even if her own father intervened, Shane Sterling might not give him any face.

“Auntie…” Lydia Sinclair looked pitifully at Yvette Shaw, pleading for help.

Yvette Shaw took a deep breath. “Sean, you need to be reasonable. The one who got hurt was clearly Silas. How did it become Isabelle’s life that was threatened?”

Lydia Sinclair’s eyes darted, and her confidence returned with a righteous flair. “That’s right! I never hurt Isla Prescott! Who can prove I was trying to hurt her?”

The third floor of Nocturne Bar was the VIP level. To get up there, the minimum spending was at least six figures. Booths of that caliber prioritized privacy; there would absolutely be no security cameras inside.

At the time of the incident, only Lydia Sinclair, Silas Lockwood, and Isla Prescott were in the booth. As one of the involved parties, the police couldn’t just take Isla’s word for it. As for Silas Lockwood, Lydia was confident he wouldn’t testify against her. After all, the Lockwood Family currently needed to rely on the Sinclair Family to get through their crisis.

“I can.”

The operating room door opened. Silas Lockwood was in a wheelchair, his face as pale as paper from blood loss and excruciating pain. His right hand was wrapped in thick gauze, completely immobilized.

“I can prove that Lydia Sinclair intended to harm Isabelle with a weapon and acted on that intent.”

Isla Prescott’s mind went blank.

The emotions that had gnawed at her heart on so many nights after her breakup with Silas Lockwood inexplicably resurfaced in this moment.

’Why is Silas helping me?’

’Shouldn’t he be protecting his fiancée?’

When Lydia Sinclair heard Silas Lockwood was going to testify against her, she completely lost it. She ran over and grabbed his wheelchair. “Silas Lockwood! What did you say? You’re going to hurt me for Isla Prescott? Have you forgotten who your fiancée is?!”

Silas was already weak; he couldn’t withstand her frenzied outburst.

Driven by a mother’s instinct to protect her son, Yvette Shaw quickly pulled Lydia Sinclair away. “Lydia, don’t get so worked up. Let me talk to him.”

Lydia tearfully nodded. “Auntie, you have to help me.”

—

「In the hospital room.」

Yvette Shaw sat stiffly by the hospital bed, looking at Silas Lockwood’s pale face, feeling both heartbroken and angry.

“Have you lost your mind? For Isla Prescott, you were willing to ruin your hand and offend the Sinclair Family? Don’t you know we can only rely on Lydia’s brother right now to temporarily keep those old geezers on the company’s board of directors in line! If you send Lydia to prison, how can the Sinclairs possibly help us?”

“Why must we rely on the Sinclair Family?” Silas Lockwood asked.

“Then what? Are we supposed to just hand over The Lockwood Group to outsiders? Is the tree your father planted going to be used to give shade to someone else for free?”

“And The Sinclairs aren’t outsiders?”

“Once you marry Lydia, The Sinclairs won’t be outsiders.”

“I won’t marry her.”

“Why!” Mrs. Lockwood was completely exasperated. “Are you still hung up on Isabelle? I’ve told you, it’s impossible between you two. Even if you don’t marry Lydia, I will never agree to you being with Isabelle!”

“It has nothing to do with Isabelle. I just don’t want any involvement with the Sinclair Family.”

The marriage alliance between the Sinclair and Lockwood families seemed like a match between equals. But because Theodore Lockwood had been seriously ill and Silas Lockwood wasn’t involved in the family business, The Sinclairs had always held a strange sense of superiority over The Lockwoods.

When his father, Theodore Lockwood, was alive, The Sinclairs could at least pretend to be civil. The moment Theodore was gone, they immediately showed their true colors. They felt it was bad luck that Theodore had passed away the day before the engagement party and made all sorts of excuses not to attend his funeral. This in itself was a slight against the Lockwood Family. Lydia Sinclair’s brother, Zane Sinclair, even began plotting to take over The Lockwood Group, hoping to acquire the Lockwood family’s assets without a fight.

Compared to the wolves and tigers on the outside, The Sinclairs were far more sinister and vicious.

“Regardless, I think Lydia genuinely likes you.”

’Likes me?’

He didn’t feel any affection from Lydia Sinclair. All he felt was a pathological need for control.

Twenty-four hours a day, aside from when he was flying, he had to be available for her check-ins anytime, anywhere. If he missed a single video call, it was followed by a relentless barrage of phone calls. He had long since had enough of the pampered heiress.

“But without the Sinclair Family’s help, how are we supposed to hold onto your father’s company?”

“I’ve already decided to resign and join The Lockwood Group,” Silas Lockwood said.

Yvette Shaw was stunned.

“You?”

After Theodore Lockwood’s death, Yvette Shaw had thought of countless ways to stabilize the company, but she had never considered having Silas join The Lockwood Group. For one, Silas loved his career, and she didn’t want her son to give up flying. For another, she felt his personality wasn’t suited for the backstabbing and deceit of the business world.

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“You’ve never been involved with The Lockwood Group’s business.”

“Doesn’t everyone start from zero? Sean didn’t major in business administration either, and isn’t he managing the Sterling Group’s affairs just fine now?”

“With that mouth of his, he was born to do this kind of work.”

Silas Lockwood looked at his mother. “The truth is, in your heart, you’ve always thought I’m not as good as Sean, right?”

Although Yvette Shaw outwardly looked down on Shane Sterling’s flashy ways, Silas knew that she actually admired how effortlessly Shane navigated the world of fame and fortune.

“That’s not what I meant. In my heart, you’ll always be the best.” Yvette Shaw squeezed Silas’s arm. “I just don’t want you to force yourself to do something you don’t like.”

“No one can change my mind.”

’Starting today, I will take my destiny into my own hands.’

’The Lockwood Group, and the woman I love. I’ll have them both.’

—

「Later.」

In the end, Lydia Sinclair was taken away by the police.

It was unclear how Silas Lockwood had managed to persuade Yvette Shaw, but by the time Lydia was led away, Yvette’s face was completely indifferent. She didn’t even bother to feign her previous false emotions.

Ivan Fulton felt incredibly guilty about what had happened that night.

“Isabelle, I’m so sorry. I had no idea tonight would turn into this. If I’d known, I never would have asked you to come.”

Just as Isla Prescott was about to say it was fine, Shane Sterling, who was standing nearby, looked up at Ivan Fulton with a cool gaze. “So you were the one who invited her? You’re always busy being a hen hatching ducklings!”

Ivan Fulton was full of curiosity. “What does a hen hatching ducklings mean?”

“It means meddling in things that are none of your business.”

“I’m telling you, Young Mr. Shaw, just how many dictionaries of insults have you read? You should teach me sometime.”

“I don’t take on apprentices with your level of intelligence. Now, scram.”

“But what about Isabelle? I’m the one who brought her out, so I’m responsible for getting her home safely.”

“You are, by far, the biggest danger to her right now.”

Ivan Fulton: “…”

’Fine, fine, I’ll leave, alright?’

After shooing Ivan Fulton away, Shane Sterling turned to Isla Prescott.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

His car was right at the hospital entrance.

Isla Prescott followed him into the car.

As they passed a convenience store, Shane Sterling pulled over.

“Wait here a second.”

He got out, walked into the convenience store, and came out a moment later with a bottle of water.

Isla Prescott found it strange. He already had bottled water in his car, so why did he need to buy more?

“To ice your face,” Shane Sterling said after getting back in the car, handing the bottle to Isla Prescott.

When Isla Prescott touched the bottle, she realized it was chilled.

“Thank you.”

She held the bottle, pressing it against her swollen cheek.

The cold sensation temporarily dulled the pain.

The car sped down the road. It was late, and the streets were empty of pedestrians. In the distance, a traffic light changed colors mechanically, like a lonely heart stubbornly beating in an unwatched corner.

Her gaze followed the city lights, and her thoughts began to drift.

Naturally, her mind drifted back to the moment Silas Lockwood had stood in front of her, grabbing the shard of glass with his bare hand. Blood had trickled from the wound, and in that instant, even the memory felt warm.

“What are you thinking about?” Shane Sterling suddenly asked.

Isla Prescott shook her head. “Nothing.”

’Of course I can’t say I’m thinking about Silas Lockwood. Shane Sterling would definitely make fun of me.’

But it seemed he had guessed, even without her saying anything.

“Isla Prescott, have you ever heard the term ’rosy retrospection’?”

“I haven’t. Please, enlighten me, oh well-read Young Mr. Shaw.”

“It’s a psychological phenomenon. When it comes to a past relationship, the brain will actively downplay negative memories and preserve, or even embellish, the good moments from the past.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“What happened today was a trigger. You might start remembering some of the good times you had with Silas Lockwood because he saved you. But you need to understand that, to you now, those memories might just be illusions processed by your subconscious. They have no value.”

“What on earth are you trying to say?” Isla Prescott was probably used to Shane Sterling’s sharp tongue; his sudden turn to profound words felt both obscure and hard to understand.

“Alright, let me put it simply. Don’t overthink it. A good horse doesn’t go back for the grass it’s already passed. Got it?”

Isla Prescott: “…”

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