The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart novel (Brittany and Isaac)
Chapter 831

Chapter 831

Stepping out of the estate, the metaphorical boulder weighing on Brittany's chest seemed to shift, allowing her to breathe a little easier.

"Bri..." Isaac hastened forward, his hand clasping her wrist securely. "Wait for me."

Aware of the many quests milling around, Brittany tempered her irritation with patience. "What is it?"

"Did you orchestrate tonight's debacle?"

Recognizing the futility in denial, she countered, "Are you meddling in Leda's affairs now, too?"

Isaac knew she harbored resentment. His lips formed a thin line as he ushered her into the car, leaning over to fasten her seat belt. "That's not what I'm doing. Leda's not someone you cross without consequences. I'm just worried you'll end up in her crosshairs."

Brittany's face twisted into a sardonic grin. "I was already in her crosshairs five years ago."

Unable to bear her barbed words yet unwilling to argue and further strain their already taut relationship, Isaac simply suggested, "Let's go home and talk."

Brittany neither agreed nor disagreed.

Back at home, Isaac rolled up his sleeves and ventured into the kitchen, preparing a bowl of spaghetti.

Brittany, putting aside her grudges for once, indulged in the meal and didn't resist when Isaac drew near.

Isaac, in the prime of his life, was stirred by her scent, his emotions swelling like the tide. But just as they neared a moment of reconciliation...

"It's late. We should get some rest."

Brittany pushed him away, standing up with a glint in her eye.

His voice rough with unfulfilled desire, Isaac asked, "Now?"

She had him on a tightrope, and she knew it.

Leaning in, Brittany pinched his jawline. "Mr. Salter, isn't it true that you always get involved at the eleventh hour?"

With that, she strode away, leaving Isaac with a headache and a combination of frustration and yearning.

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Chapter 831

The wedding ended in disarray.

Joyous nuptials overshadowed by wrath.

When Manuel and Leda were finally separated, Leda's face was a mess, and Manuel was still cursing.

"Enough!" Marcel, his expression dark with anger, put an end to the spectacle.

Manuel, still seething, shook off the security guards. "Back off, don't touch me!"

The guards moved to intervene but were halted by Marcel's command.

"Let them be," he said.

Once the guards had departed, Marcel turned to Leda. "Let's not escalate this further."

Leda, seething, accused, "It had to be Isaac. He can't stand to see me happy!"

She was convinced it was that lowlife!

Manuel scoffed. "If you hadn't been playing around, would he have had a chance to scheme against you?"

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Leda tried to defend herself. "Honey, I never thought to betray you. I was set up...

"Set up?" Manuel spat out in disgust. "Why is it that no one else gets 'set up, only you?"

Adults through and through, and still talking of being 'set up'?

Cornered, Leda dropped the act. "Yes, I did you wrong, but haven't you wronged me over the years?"

Manuel was taken aback, then retorted with feeble justification. "I'm a man; you can't compare yourself to me!"

"A man can have mistresses, but I can't?" Leda scoffed coldly. "Besides, I waited for you all those years you were in prison, and you couldn't even give me a proper status. What right do you have to reproach me?"

Manuel's face turned red with anger. "You..."

"Enough." Marcel massaged his temples wearily. "Let's put an end to this matter. I'll try to keep it out of the press as much as possible."

He looked at Zella, his expression softening. "It's late; let's go home and rest."

Zella stepped forward, taking Marcel's arm. "Alright."

After they left, Leda's voice softened. "Honey, I was wrong, but after all the years and hardships, can't you forgive me?"

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Chapter 831

All her life, she strove to be part of the Salter family. She didn't want to lose Manuel.

Manuel knew too well he couldn't leave Leda, not just because they shared a son, but also because he couldn't replace anyone better than her at the moment. "No more mistakes," he said finally.

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