Isabella couldn’t suppress a derisive laugh at Ethan’s pathetic attempt to hide behind his grandfather’s words.
“But as your grandfather also emphasized,” she countered smoothly, “integrity is the foundation of both life and business. As the CEO of the Blackwood Group, keeping your word should be second nature.”
Ethan’s face burned crimson, his usual razor-sharp comebacks failing him under the weight of her logic.
Alexander, who had been observing the scene with detached amusement, finally stirred. Stroking the cat perched beside him, he remarked lazily, “I have a particular distaste for those who break their promises. Perhaps my assistant should revisit our contracts with the Blackwood Group—just to ensure everything is… up to standard.”
The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air, and Ethan paled instantly. The recent luxury boutiques they’d launched were collaborations with Alexander’s malls. A scandal now could ruin his reputation—especially with investors watching like vultures.
“Ethan,” Sophia murmured, her voice laced with quiet diplomacy, “sometimes, pride must yield to wisdom. Given that Isabella has Alexander Kingsley’s backing, perhaps it’s time to consider the bigger picture.”
Clenching his jaw until it ached, Ethan finally relented. Slowly, he and Sophia sank to their knees, the weight of humiliation pressing down on them like lead. A dull thud echoed as their knees met the floor.
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his voice strained as he forced out the words, “I’m sorry. We were wrong.” Each syllable was dragged out as if it pained him, his teeth grinding together. Even the faint hum of the air conditioning seemed louder than his reluctant apology.
Isabella watched them with icy detachment.
“Strange,” she mused, tilting her head. “I could’ve sworn the mighty CEO of the Blackwood Group had a stronger voice. Or has humiliation stolen that from you too?”
“Don’t push me—” Ethan snarled, fury flashing in his eyes, but his words died instantly under Alexander’s glacial stare.
Alexander’s gaze was dark, fathomless—like a storm gathering at midnight. The moment Ethan met it, a shiver of primal fear slithered down his spine.
“I’m sorry! We were wrong!” Ethan blurted, his face burning with shame and rage. Beside him, Sophia bowed her head, tears of humiliation glistening in her eyes, her fingers curling into fists.
After three stiff, resentful bows, Isabella finally leaned back in her chair, meticulously arranging her tools as if they were the only things worth her attention.
“Now that we’re done here,” she dismissed them with a flick of her wrist, “you may leave.”
Sophia rose unsteadily, her pride in tatters. A woman accustomed to adoration, she had never endured such degradation. Yet she knew better than to retaliate now.
How did Isabella of all people secure Alexander Kingsley’s support? The thought burned like acid in Sophia’s mind.
With false sweetness, she forced a smile. “Now that this… misunderstanding is settled, I hope we can move forward, Isabella. But speaking of the past—you mentioned during the divorce that you’d found someone new. When will we meet this mystery man? If you’ve truly moved on, we’d be happy for you.”
Her words dripped with faux concern, but beneath them lay a calculated barb—an attempt to plant doubt in Alexander’s mind.
