The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

Chapter 919

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Chapter 919 Brittany was ushered into the fitting room and with a ripping sound, her dress was torn.

“Isaac!” She adored that dress! Isaac leaned in close, “You like it? I'll buy you more... loads more.” But she couldn't wear them out, not where other men could catch a glimpse. In his eyes, that would be a desecration of her purity.

Ophelia left the lounge but didn't really go anywhere. After waiting for half an hour without a sign of Brittany, her patience began to wear thin.

“Hey, check on her, will you?” At Ophelia’s command, a shop assistant headed to the dressing room. Moments later, the assistant returned, blushing and flustered. “Ophelia, the fitting room is... well, it's a bit occupied.” Green with envy, Ophelia thought: Damn, why does that guy only know how to push people around? “Turn off the surveillance. We don't want any evidence!” Before leaving, Ophelia made sure the staff were sworn to secrecy, with a stern warning that any slip-up would not bode well for them.

The employees promptly reassured her, “Don’t worry, Ophelia. We didn’t see a thing.” Three hours later, Brittany stormed out of the dressing room, leaving Isaac behind.

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The employees pretended that they didn’t know a thing, but it was too obvious. Brittany's face was a mask of fury, and she stalked off with purposeful strides.

Isaac spared the employees a casual glance.

“Sir, rest assured, we're clueless about the afternoon's events.” Satisfied, Isaac spent the next hour coaxing Brittany back into good spirits.

Every gown she had tried on was neatly packed and sent to their villa.

Remembering her ripped dress, Brittany glared at Isaac, which only made him melt. “Stop glaring.” Her anger never seemed to intimidate; instead, it reminded him of a kitten flaunting its claws-utterly endearing.

Luckily for him, Brittany's temper was as quick to vanish as it was to flare up. Soon enough, they were back to cooing sweet nothings.

09.57 In the halls of the royal palace, a bodyguard presented Ivy with an investigation report. “Your Highness, the gentleman you encountered this afternoon is not from Craneville.” Ivy's suspicions had already been brewing; after all, she had crossed paths with nearly every notable figure in Craneville.

“Then where is he from?” “Imperial City. He's from the Salter family.” Fresh from her bath, in a pale pink nightgown, Ivy exuded a delicate elegance. “The Salter family?” “Yes, it's said that Mr. Salter is the powerhouse behind Grandeur Capital, wealthy enough to rival nations.” What the bodyguard didn’t mention was how Isaac was a household name in A country, with countless young women vying for his hand.

Ivy smiled. “So he’s from A country.” No wonder she hadn't come across him in Craneville.

She had worried about his background, fearing /Qys! Qpposition.

RAVAN hak ISaac’s true identity, her concerns evaporated.

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“Got it, you may leave.” The bodyguard hesitated, wanting to mention that Isaac was already married.

But Ivy had already risen, heading into the wardrobe to prepare for the evening gala. gossip was the least of her concerns.

The bodyguard placed the documents carefully on the vanity and left.

Descending the stairs, Ivy was the epitome of regal grace.

That evening, the royal family hosted a charity gala, and as the princess, Ivy was he agent thir ohilanth ropic eFrolts — a responsibility she couldn't shirk The gala was a grand affair, attended by the who's who of Craneville.

Among the guests was Holden Lynette, whom vy had known siege childhogd dn heer dhimsical dys) she had harbored a short-lived crush on him. However, Holden lacked the Lynette family bloodline, and without it, he could never be an heir.

A royal match was out of the question.

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