Ethan Blackwood’s expression was a tempest barely contained, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.
“Pack your things and leave! And while you’re at it, stop spreading your lies in my territory!” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
The workers, startled by his sudden outburst, moved sluggishly, their faces twisted in displeasure as they loaded the truck, muttering curses under their breath.
“Look at those two. Night and day,” one of them grumbled.
Ethan was on the verge of exploding. He clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “Useless idiots.”
Sophia Kensington clung to his arm, her voice soft but firm. “Ethan, why let people like them bother you? This is going to be our home. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
The whispers of those beneath them were nothing more than background noise—irrelevant, insignificant. They didn’t understand. No matter what tricks Isabella Sinclair thought she had, Sophia was the one who would stand by Ethan’s side in the end.
“Of course, I’m happy,” he murmured, though the weight of his grandfather’s disapproval still lingered, draining his energy for further argument.
He led Sophia upstairs. His room was exactly as he’d left it—except for one small detail.
There, resting on the table, was a delicate velvet box.
Isabella’s wedding ring.
She hadn’t thought about it in years. Back then, William Blackwood had taken pity on her, pushing for a rushed ceremony, and they’d settled for a limited-edition diamond ring.
Ethan himself had never worn his. He’d locked it away in the safe, out of sight, out of mind.
This was only the second time he’d seen Isabella’s ring—the first being at their wedding. It had cost nearly half a million.
While it paled in comparison to the extravagant ring he’d discreetly purchased for Sophia, for someone like Isabella—who had come from nothing—it had been a fortune.
Yet, she had left it behind.
Ethan strode to the closet and pulled it open, revealing relics of Isabella’s past—luxurious gowns, sparkling jewelry, all untouched. Even the designer handbags, each worth a small fortune, remained exactly where she’d left them.
They were gifts he’d given her without much thought over the years, or things Eleanor Blackwood had bought for her.
But the lavish presents from the Blackwood family? She had abandoned them without hesitation.
It should have been easy—this clean break.
Yet, when Ethan pressed a hand to his chest, an unexpected hollowness settled over him, as if something had slipped away unnoticed, leaving behind a void he hadn’t realized existed.
His heart felt strangely empty.
“Ethan, stop dwelling on it,” Sophia said, misreading his silence as frustration. “Even if Isabella got that invitation from Cobweb, my father already looked into it.” She smiled, her voice confident. “Whoever the advertising executive is, it doesn’t matter. I found a lead.”
Isabella’s parting words had stung more than Sophia cared to admit, though she’d brushed them off at the time. But to her, they were a silent challenge—one she was determined to overcome.
She refused to spend her life in Isabella’s shadow.
“What kind of lead?” Ethan asked, his voice low.
“Alexander Kingsley, heir to the Kingsley Group. He has ties to the advertising executive. If we can win him over, we’ll have him on our side. He’s been in Athtontely recently—something about pottery.”
Ethan considered her words before nodding, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Sophia, you always know exactly what I need.”
His decision was made.
