He Wouldn't Claim Me — Another Man Did-Chapter 113 - 100: Tears

Isla Prescott had come to pick Annabelle up from the airport, but in the end, it was Annabelle who drove Isla home.

"I’m sorry, Annie. I’m causing you trouble." Isla Prescott felt awful. But ever since she’d heard the news of Shane Sterling’s engagement, her mind had been in turmoil and her limbs had gone weak. For safety’s sake, she really wasn’t in any condition to drive.

"Don’t worry about it." Seeing that she was still distraught, Annabelle Leighton asked, "Do you want me to stay and keep you company?"

"No, it’s okay. You should head back."

Isla Prescott knew the first thing Annabelle would do after returning from a business trip was visit her grandmother, and she didn’t want to hold her up. Besides, Annabelle staying wouldn’t do any good. This was a hurdle she had to overcome on her own.

"Alright, then. Don’t let your mind run wild. There are plenty of fish in the sea. If one doesn’t work out, we’ll just find another. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"You really get it? Then repeat it for me."

"There are plenty of fish in the sea. If one doesn’t work out, we’ll just find another."

"Exactly. Whenever you’re stuck in your head, just keep repeating that to yourself," Annabelle Leighton said with a devil-may-care look. "And if that still doesn’t work, just go to a bar and hire some male escorts! It’s on me!"

As heartbroken as Isla Prescott was, she couldn’t help but crack a smile at Annabelle’s words.

However, the smile faded before Annabelle’s car had even disappeared from her line of sight.

Alone, Isla Prescott dragged her heavy feet upstairs.

Ever since she moved, Shane Sterling had only visited her rental apartment once. But from that single visit, it was as if his presence still lingered in every corner of her small space.

Isla Prescott sat on the sofa for a while, her mind replaying the scene of Shane Sterling solemnly promising her, "Just give me one more week."

She tried to stop herself from thinking about it, but her mind drifted further back, to him kneeling before a statue of the Buddha, vowing that his heart would remain true.

’At what point did the lies begin?’

’Were his vows before the Buddha just more empty words?’

Her emotions were a raging tempest.

Isla Prescott was consumed by a sense of helplessness. Logically, she knew she had to let go, but her emotions kept washing over her like a relentless tide, threatening to drown her.

It felt as if two versions of herself were at war inside her.

After sitting numbly for a few moments, Isla Prescott finally couldn’t bear it any longer. She shot to her feet and strode out the door.

’I’m going to a bar!’

Of course, she wasn’t going to hire male escorts. She just wanted a drink.

Across the street from her apartment complex was a commercial district. Kiki Ford had once recommended a bar there called "Golden Night," praising its great atmosphere, great service, and great prices—a rare "triple-threat" establishment.

Isla Prescott was somewhat well-known now, so to avoid any potential negative press, she deliberately put on a wide-brimmed bucket hat and a face mask. The moment she walked in, she asked the staff for a private room.

Noticing her odd getup, a server gave her a second glance. "Ma’am, are you by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Please follow me."

The server led her to the second floor.

The private room was spacious, but the lack of windows made it feel a little stuffy.

Isla Prescott took off her mask and began ordering drinks. The server kept glancing at her.

"Is something wrong?" Isla Prescott wondered if she’d been recognized.

"Oh, it’s nothing. I just thought... that’s a lot of alcohol for one person, don’t you think?"

"I can finish it."

"Okay. Please wait a moment, I’ll bring your drinks right out."

The server left, and the drinks Isla had ordered were brought in shortly after.

She rarely drank to drown her sorrows. When she’d broken up with her ex before the New Year, she’d never once thought of getting wasted, no matter how much it hurt. But today, she felt so suffocated that she desperately needed an escape, and alcohol was the fastest release she could think of.

The first glass tasted bitter on her tongue.

With the second, her shoulders began to relax.

With the third, her heart began to feel lighter.

...

She lost count of the glasses. The sounds of reality faded, the edges of her vision blurred, and the sharpness of her emotions was filed down. The curtain rose on a willing descent into oblivion. At last, she no longer had to be so tightly wound.

--

Ever since Silas Lockwood took over the Lockwood Group, he had business-related social functions almost every night.

The man who once soared through the skies and never touched a drop of alcohol could now only stand on the shore, clear-headedly watching himself sink into a sea of liquor.

He stood by a window in the corridor, lit a cigarette, and gazed at the moon.

"Do you know who’s in private room three?"

"Who?"

"Isla Prescott. That influencer who went viral for her shadow dance a while ago. She’s in there by herself and ordered a ton of alcohol. I don’t know what’s wrong, but she’s really putting it away. I just brought her a fruit platter, and she looks like she’s almost drunk."

The women’s hushed whispers carried down the hallway.

When Silas Lockwood heard the name "Isla Prescott," he automatically stubbed out his cigarette.

’She’s drinking alone?’

Without a moment’s hesitation, Silas Lockwood headed for private room three.

The door to room three was closed. He knocked and heard a slurred voice from within. "Who is it?"

"Silas Lockwood."

The room suddenly went silent.

Silas Lockwood dispensed with propriety and pushed the door open.

Isla Prescott was sitting on the sofa, her head lowered. The wide brim of her hat obscured her face from Silas Lockwood’s view.

"Isabelle." He walked over to her side. "Why are you here drinking by yourself?" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Isla Prescott remained silent.

Silas Lockwood crouched down, trying to meet her gaze, but as he did, he saw her face was streaked with tears.

His heart seized. "What’s wrong?"

Isla Prescott looked up, her eyes glistening—whether from the alcohol or the tears, he couldn’t tell. "You don’t know what’s wrong?"

She was sure Silas Lockwood was feigning ignorance.

After all, Silas Lockwood had been the one to first tell her the news that the Sterling and Quincy families were reinstating their marriage alliance. He knew about the most unsubstantiated rumors, so how could he possibly not know about something as huge as Shane Sterling and Genevieve Quincy getting engaged tomorrow?

"What on earth happened?"

But Silas Lockwood truly didn’t know. Shane Sterling hadn’t sent him an invitation to the engagement party.

He’d only found out about the Sterling and Quincy families reinstating their marriage alliance because a high-level executive at the Quincy Group had let it slip.

"He’s getting engaged." After saying this, Isla Prescott seemed to deflate, her head drooping once more.

"Sean? You’re saying Sean is getting engaged?" Hearing this, Silas Lockwood wasn’t sure whether he should be happy or sad.

"Yes, he’s getting engaged. He’s getting engaged..." Isla Prescott repeated, her voice trailing off. "You were right. The problems we had, he and I have them too. I knew what I was getting into, but I did it anyway. This pain I’m feeling now... I brought it all on myself. I deserve it... I deserve it..."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She seemed lucid, yet at the same time, deeply intoxicated.

Silas Lockwood was at a complete loss.

He had never seen Isla Prescott cry with such sorrow.

Isla Prescott had joined the Lockwood household as a child, and she had always possessed a maturity and fortitude that far surpassed her peers. No matter what happened, she rarely cried.

The only time Silas Lockwood had ever seen Isla cry was after she learned that her mother, Yvette Shaw, would no longer be teaching her to dance. That had been her dream, and while she was devastated, she had only shed a few tears before she began looking for other ways to learn.

’How could such a rational, composed person be crying like this over Shane Sterling?’

’Does she love him that much?’

Silas Lockwood couldn’t help but wonder, ’Did she cry when we broke up?’

"Alright, no more tears." Silas Lockwood pulled out a couple of tissues and gently wiped her eyes. "Don’t drink any more. I’ll take you home."