Olivia’s fury was electric as she shoved Isabella into the suite.
“That imbecile Nathan should’ve been tossed to the sharks!”
Even though Isabella had handled the creep herself, Olivia’s rage burned white-hot. She was practically breathing fire, cursing the man’s entire bloodline.
“Relax,” Isabella said, cool as ice, handing Olivia a ss of champagne. “Don’t stress. There isn’t a soul on this ship who can lay a finger on me.”
“Obviously that trash couldn’t,” Olivia snapped, still fuming. “After all, when you were running ops in Qairyn, you dealt with actual hardened criminals—not these pathetic excuses for men.”
Isabella smirked. “So take a breath. The banquet starts in thirty, and the night’s just beginning. Don’t keep your pretty boy waiting too long.”
Olivia exhaled sharply. “Fine. But I’ve got eyes on Charisma Company for you. If anything pops up, call me. And those eight gorgeous bodyguards are still lurking around. Feel free to pick one after the party.”
Isabella laughed. “Oh, I will.”
She was about to leave early to scope out the elusive figure behind Charisma Company when two familiar faces materialized in front of her.
“Mrs. Blackwood, hello. I’m Sophia Kensington.”
Sophia, draped in an elegant white gown, her soft curls dancing in the sea breeze, clasped Ethan’s hand like a trophy. “I’m here to apologize. If Ethan and I hadn’t fought, if I hadn’t fled abroad, you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess.” Her voice was honey-sweet. “But we’re truly in love.”
Isabella rested her chin on her palm. “And?”
The reaction stunned them—Ethan’s brows shot up at her indifference. He pulled Sophia closer, his arm possessive around her waist. “Stop playing these games for my attention. I don’t know how you wormed your way into Olivia’s circle or tracked me here, but this charade ends now!”
Isabella let out a sharp laugh. “Games? Let’s not rewrite history. I’ve already agreed to meet you in court and signed the divorce papers. Trust me, no matter how low I sink, I’d never crawl back to discarded trash.”
Her words were razor-edged.
After all, Sophia had vanished on their wedding day, leaving a note about being “forced” by her parents—only to miraculously reappear just as Blackwood Industries boomed. The timing was convenient.
Sophia’s mask slipped for a second before she pasted on a wounded look, eyes glistening. “Ethan, I was coerced.”
But Ethan wasn’t listening. His gaze was locked on Isabella like a moth to flame. Her demeanor was frosty, but her smirk was sunlight breaking through storm clouds. A rose with thorns—alluring yet lethal. It left him… unsettled.
“Don’t forget court tomorrow,” he bit out, searching her face for even a flicker of regret.
There was none. The love that once burned for him had turned to glacial indifference.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Just keep your word, Mr. Blackwood,” Isabella replied smoothly. She’d endured too many disappointments to care anymore. Heartbreak was just a passing nightmare—and it was time to wake up.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. Her apathy grated on him. “By the way, Grandfather’s being discharged the day after. He insists on seeing you.”
Isabella took a leisurely sip of her drink. “Oh? Anything else?”
The subtext was clear: Spit it out or get lost.
Ethan fell silent, frustration simmering. Sophia, sensing his irritation, fluttered her lashes. “Nothing else, but… I understand it’s hard to let go. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble to find us.” She squeezed Ethan’s arm. “We’re deeply in love, so I hope you’ll bless us. Maybe even grace our wedding with your presence?”
Isabella saw right through the act. Sophia, insecure in her position, was extending a fake olive branch to paint herself as the magnanimous victor. But Isabella had settled all debts—she owed them nothing.
“Plenty of fish in the sea, Miss Kensington. Shame you’re clinging to this one,” Isabella said as she stood, lips curling. “As for the wedding? Hard pass. Wouldn’t want rumors that the ex-wife became the other woman. That’d be… problematic for Mr. Blackwood.”
She tilted her ss, letting the liquid splash onto the deck. “Oh, and good luck. May you enjoy it… forever.”
Ethan’s face darkened. “Don’t come crying to me later!”
He stormed off, Sophia scrambling after him.
Isabella headed straight to the VIP lounge to change—but the moment the door shut behind her, cold steel pressed into her ribs in the darkness.
“Don’t move.”
Isabella didn’t flinch. If anything, her calm deepened. She couldn’t see his face, but the tension in his arm and the heat radiating off him screamed danger.
Without a trace of fear, she murmured, “Your hand’s shaking.”
