Chapter 448

The days blurred together in a whirlwind of activity for Isabella. She left before dawn and returned long after sunset each day. Though Sophia had been staying at the Sinclair estate, mother and daughter barely exchanged more than passing greetings.

Alexander, equally consumed by work commitments, reportedly called Sophia nearly every evening. But Isabella always seemed to miss those calls, leaving her unaware of their conversations.

Friday loomed - Sophia's birthday.

Surprisingly, Sophia took the news of Alexander's likely absence with remarkable composure. Wrapping her arms around Isabella's waist, she murmured, "It's alright. Having you here is enough."

But when Isabella explained she might only have time to prepare Sophia's favorite bisque and present a gift, the girl's shoulders slumped. Three years had passed since she last tasted her mother's famous red velvet cake. The memory of buttercream frosting lingered on her tongue.

She'd hoped...

Yet witnessing Isabella's exhaustion each night - dark circles bruising her eyes, fingers trembling around coffee mugs - Sophia swallowed her disappointment. "Okay, I understand," she whispered.

The weight of YodaVision, Whitmore Group, and Velotra projects pressed down on Isabella like a physical force. Midnight oil burned regularly in her office. Still...

This was her daughter's birthday.

Guilt prickled along Isabella's spine. Though the divorce papers remained unsigned, she'd already begun withdrawing from motherhood. The realization tasted bitter. "If I finish early tomorrow," she found herself promising, "I'll bake your cake."

Sophia's radiant smile could have powered cities.

Thursday arrived with cruel irony. Isabella became trapped in a labyrinth of contracts and video conferences. When she finally surfaced, the clock mocked her - 3:17 AM.

Dawn found her scrubbing flour from her elbows in frustration. The 9:15 Velotra board meeting permitted no delays. A hastily prepared bisque and wrapped jewelry box had to suffice.

Nine PM.

Isabella stared at her office clock, stomach twisting. She'd barely spoken three words to Sophia that morning.

Nathaniel observed her expression darken. "Everything alright?"

"Sophia's birthday," Isabella murmured.

Understanding flashed in Nathaniel's eyes. He checked his watch. "You've still got time. Go."

The Sinclair mansion glowed against the night sky. Margaret waited in the foyer, worry lines deepening. "Alexander never called," she confided. "Sophia's been...quiet."

Isabella's breath hitched.

Upstairs, Sophia lay curled with a graphic novel. "You're home," she noted, voice carefully neutral.

"I'm sorry-"

"I know." Sophia's smile didn't reach her eyes.

The realization struck Isabella like lightning - somewhere between boardrooms and bedtime stories, an invisible chasm had opened between them.

Then - salvation.

Sophia's phone lit up with "Dad's" caller ID. Her answering "Hello?" held frost.

Alexander's chuckle traveled through the speaker. "Happy birthday, princess."

"Mm."

"Mad at me?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry," Alexander continued, amusement undimmed. "The satellite connection was- wait, look outside your window."

Sophia bolted upright.

Alexander's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Turned out the Jakarta deal could wait...but my daughter's birthday couldn't."

The bedroom window framed Alexander below, leaning against his Aston Martin, phone glowing at his ear. Sophia's shriek of joy rattled the glass as she flew downstairs.

Isabella watched from the shadows, something unnameable tightening in her chest.