The Verdict on My Husband the Judge: GUILTY novel Chapter 59

Chapter 8

My life returned to normal, busy with group affairs.

Shortly after Blackthorne Industries declared bankruptcy, I received a call from Nathaniel.

His voice carried exhaustion, hoarse and defeated:

“Isabella…”

He called my name, then fell into silence.

I didn’t bother filling the void either–we had nothing left to discuss.

Just as I was about to hang up, he seemed to gather his strength: “Celeste is gone.”

“After her detention, she was too terrified to stay. We’ve settled everything between us. She won’t be returning to

Silverton.”

“You called specifically to tell me this?”

Celeste’s theatrics had concluded. Her appearance had merely accelerated my inheritance of the family business.

The only lasting impact was the rift it created between Nathaniel and me.

He paused, his tone growing complex–part wistful, part self–deprecating.

“I’ve been following your recent investment news. Still as brilliant as ever.”

“I wronged you back then.”

I laughed softly, my voice flat: “It’s all in the past.”

Another stretch of silence filled the line.

For a moment, all I could hear was the faint sound of his breathing.

Nathaniel suddenly summoned his courage, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible tremor:

“Isabella, if–hypothetically–there had never been a Celeste”

“Between us, would there have been even the slightest possibility…”

I cut him off with brutal finality:

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The Verdict on My Husband the Judge: GUILTY

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Chapter 8

“There are no hypotheticals, Nathaniel. We were excellent fends and business partners, but nothing more.”

“I’m perfectly content with my current life. I’ve long since moved past everything that happened.”

He released a long, defeated sigh: “I understand. I wish you boundless success.”

I hesitated for a moment, then replied gently: “And I wish you a swift recovery and that you find true love.”

Without waiting for his response, I hung up.

Setting down my phone, I walked to the massive floor–to–ceiling windows of my office.

Gazing at the bustling traffic below, I exhaled deeply.

The inexplicable tightness in my chest gradually dissipated, and I returned to studying the project proposal on my

desk.

Six months later, at an industry summit, I encountered Nathaniel again.

He appeared considerably thinner, the spirited confidence ance etched in his features now absent.

But beside him stood a gentle, intellectual woman, impeccably dressed.

Unlike Celeste, who had clung to him like a parasitic vine, this woman maintained her own space.

They exchanged occasional quiet words–like business associates, or perhaps something developing between

colleagues.

Our eyes met briefly. We exchanged polite nods.

Like casual acquaintances–no greetings, no small talk.

As we passed each other, I heard his companion ask with mild curiosity:

“You know Chairman Ashford? She’s quite the inspiration tone.”

Nathaniel’s voice was composed: “She was once an exceptional business partner of mine. I simply couldn’t keep pace with her trajectory.”

Hearing this, I didn’t break stride.

Nathaniel and I weren’t former lovers, nor enemies.

What we’d once shared had been reduced to its essence: business partnership, nothing more.

I strode forward purposefully. New collaborations awaited, resh projects demanded launching.

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