“Isabella, I get where you’re coming from.” Sophia Kensington bit her lip, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Even if you’re just lashing out, it’s fine if you’re not ready to sign the divorce papers.” She paused, then added with saccharine sweetness, “I truly care about Ethan. Even without a marriage certificate, I’ll stand by him. I know my sudden return must feel like a slap in the face, but love doesn’t follow rules—and I met him first.”
Today, Sophia wore a fitted crimson dress, a stark contrast to her usual delicate, innocent facade. To Isabella, the scene felt ripped from a tragic drama—where the heroine’s struggles only highlighted her desperation.
“If you’re willing to let him go, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. After all, there’s no love between you two.” Sophia’s eyes gleamed with challenge. “You can keep the title, but what I want is Ethan’s heart.” She watched Isabella closely, waiting for her to crumble.
But Isabella remained unshaken, her expression cool and composed. She lifted a hand, cutting Sophia off mid-performance. “Hold on. I haven’t had breakfast yet, and I’d hate to waste it.” Her voice was icy. “But since you’re so eager to push me aside, you must know you’re the one in the wrong, right?”
A wry smile touched Isabella’s lips. “How exactly do you plan to make it up to me if I hand him over?”
Sophia faltered, her words catching in her throat.
Isabella tilted her head. “Why don’t you show me some gratitude now? That way, you can start fresh—with my blessing.” Her laugh was sharp, laced with sarcasm. “Remember when you wanted me at your wedding? If you’re so devoted to Ethan, this little favor shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”
Sophia’s face drained of color.
“You’re overreacting,” Ethan growled, pulling Sophia protectively against him. “Do you really think these petty games will win me back?”
Before he could finish, Isabella had already turned away, striding toward the service counter. “Just a joke,” she tossed over her shoulder, her tone indifferent.
Her heart had long been calloused, numb to his anger.
“Aren’t you in a hurry to finalize this, Ethan? Or are you having second thoughts?”
Ethan clenched his jaw, irritation flaring. He wanted to snap back, but Isabella was already gone, as if the mess behind her wasn’t worth another glance.
Oddly, just this morning, he’d been stewing in frustration, wondering how he’d handle it if Isabella suddenly changed her mind and clung to him. But seeing her walk away so decisively only stoked something darker inside him.
Inside the courthouse, the staff guided Isabella through the process. One employee glanced around. “Has your husband arrived yet?”
Isabella’s gaze drifted to where Ethan and Sophia stood, practically fused at the hip. The employee followed her line of sight, blinking in surprise. It wasn’t every day someone flaunted their new relationship before the ink was dry on the divorce papers.
Sympathy flickered across the woman’s face.
Finally, after the last signature, their marriage was officially dissolved. As they turned to leave, the employee hesitated, then murmured, “I hope you find happiness.”
Sophia, just steps away, stiffened. The weight of judgmental stares burned into her, but she forced a smile, nails digging into her palms. If Isabella hadn’t gotten in the way, she’d already be Mrs. Blackwood.
“Ethan…” Sophia’s voice turned syrupy sweet. The moment they stepped outside, she latched onto his arm like ivy. Lowering her lashes, she sighed. “We were meant to be from the start. If I hadn’t been sent overseas… And these past three years—you and Isabella barely holding on—all because of me.” She peeked up at him. “Now that you’re divorced, maybe you can still be friends? You should comfort her. She must be devastated.”
Isabella barely registered the words.
“Her?” Ethan scoffed, irritation flaring for reasons he couldn’t name. Isabella hadn’t shown a shred of emotion.
Sophia’s voice was honeyed, but her words were poison. “No matter how strong a woman acts, nothing matters more to her than her husband. Even the toughest fall apart after a divorce.”
His gaze flicked to Isabella, and he added mockingly, “Poor thing must have been so heartbroken she couldn’t sleep last night. Look at those dark circles—and oh, even a few mosquito bites! Ethan, you should comfort her. After all, she’s my—”
“Your fault.”
Ethan stopped mid-step. His brow furrowed as his eyes locked onto Isabella, catching the faint marks just below her collarbone.
They weren’t mosquito bites.
Everyone present was an adult. There was no mistaking what those marks meant.
“Last night,” Sophia purred, malice threading her voice. “She was a wreck on the yacht. Didn’t even leave her room. Probably wanted to be alone.” Her words were a calculated strike, severing any lingering ties between them.
Ethan’s expression darkened as he strode toward Isabella.
