“Stop this instant!” Ethan’s voice thundered through the mansion as he watched in stunned silence—even the wallpaper was being stripped from the walls.
He stormed inside, only to be met with a hollow, sterile space.
The plush sofas were gone. The Persian rugs had been rolled up and taken. Even the grand crystal chandeliers had been carefully dismantled.
Years ago, Isabella had handpicked every detail of this home, crafting it into a masterpiece of elegance.
Now, it felt like someone was systematically erasing her existence.
Where the hell are the damn guards?
Ethan’s face darkened with fury.
“I pay you a fortune, and you can’t even keep my house secure?” As he yanked out his phone, ready to summon reinforcements, the man leading the operation stepped forward with a polite nod.
“Apologies, Mr. Blackwood, but we’re not trespassing. This is entirely legal. Your ex-wife authorized it, and we have all the necessary documentation. Every step is being recorded—you’re welcome to review the footage.”
Ethan was speechless.
He hadn’t expected Isabella to go this far.
Sensing his rage, Sophia wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice dripping with false sympathy.
“Ethan, darling, don’t be upset. Isabella must just be… letting out her emotions. You two were married, after all. Let her have this moment. A little kindness won’t hurt.”
Her tone was saccharine, but the smugness beneath it was undeniable.
She’s an orphan. She got four million in the divorce, but after living as a socialite for years, how is she supposed to adjust to a normal life? Of course she’d sell things.
Ethan’s jaw clenched, his anger simmering.
Seizing the moment, Sophia added, “Honestly, it’s better to let her keep these things. You wouldn’t want to see her struggle, would you?”
The more they take, the better.
Sophia’s gaze swept over the mansion with satisfaction.
She knew the key to securing a man was to slip seamlessly into his world. Once she became Mrs. Blackwood, this mansion would be hers—and she’d remake it entirely in her own image.
Living in another woman’s shadow? Unacceptable.
Ethan frowned, lost in thought.
“I used to pity her. But this? She’s showing her true colors—clinging to a life she was never meant for. Isabella is destroying every last shred of sympathy I had left. If she ends up penniless, I won’t feel a damn thing.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the suited man gave Ethan a strange look.
He cleared his throat and answered an incoming call—deliberately putting it on speaker.
“Miss Sinclair, everything has been handled as you requested.”
Isabella’s voice was ice-cold.
“Good. Send the items to the auction house.”
Sophia smirked.
“Looks like Isabella finally has some sense—”
But before she could finish, Isabella’s sharp voice cut through the air.
“And as I instructed—auction off everything of value. Donate every cent to charity. Whatever remains? Destroy it. Leave nothing behind.”
“Understood,” the man replied professionally before ending the call.
Sophia’s smug expression shattered into disbelief.
The workers, however, exchanged impressed glances.
“Miss Sinclair is something else,” one chuckled. “That Ming dynasty vase? Worth a fortune. And she’s just giving it away?”
“Exactly,” another agreed. “She said she wouldn’t leave a single trace of herself in a ‘filthy house.’ Cold. And classy.”
Each word was a knife to Sophia’s pride.
Moments ago, she had been certain Isabella was selling everything out of desperation.
But Isabella wasn’t doing this for money.
She was erasing herself—donating every valuable, burning every remnant.
And she didn’t care who watched.
