Chapter 87
Ethan Blackwood stood frozen, his jaw slack with disbelief. Words failed him—his silence was the only admission of his crushing defeat.
Humiliation clung to him like a second skin. The physical pain was nothing compared to the public disgrace that awaited if this ever got out. The thought of being mocked as the man who got dismantled by a woman sent a fresh wave of fury through him.
With Alexander Kingsley’s influence looming large, any business allies sympathetic to the Blackwood family would swiftly cut ties with his company. The damage was undeniable.
“Does this arrangement suit you, Mr. Blackwood?” Isabella Sinclair’s voice was icy, laced with casual indifference. “A few bruises in exchange for the Everett Group deal—the very reason you crawled here today. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
Her tone was razor-sharp, but then she smirked, dragging Eleanor Blackwood into it.
“You and Eleanor—what a pair. But at least you got what you wanted. I’m sure she’ll be so proud of her obedient little puppet.”
Isabella knew their twisted games too well. Eleanor didn’t care about Ethan—she only cared about control.
With a satisfied glint in her eyes, Isabella pulled out her phone and hit record, capturing every pathetic second of his defeat.
“Three seconds. Agree or don’t—I couldn’t care less. Three… two…”
At the final count, Ethan, trembling with rage, gave a stiff, reluctant nod. The Everett deal was too valuable to lose.
Even mute with fury, his mind burned with vengeance. He couldn’t defy her now—not with Alexander beside her. But in the shadows of his thoughts, he was already weaving ways to make her regret this.
Sophia Kensington’s panic surged.
“Isabella, this is too far!” she snapped, frustration boiling over. “Just because you secured a deal doesn’t make you invincible.”
She had come to sabotage everything, to prove to Eleanor that Isabella couldn’t be trusted. Now, watching her plan crumble, resentment coiled inside her.
“This is unacceptable!”
Isabella arched a brow. “Oh? So you don’t want the opportunity after all?”
Ethan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head violently.
Sophia, seething, had no choice but to mutter, “We… want it.”
The taste of defeat was bitter on her tongue.
Isabella laughed softly, the sound laced with mockery.
“You want it? And this is bullying?” She tilted her head. “Darling, this is just the beginning.”
She slipped her phone away, the recording safely stored.
“As I’ve said before—I don’t forget grudges. Cross me again, and I’ll demand a rematch. Stay out of my way if you want to keep things civil.”
Alexander’s voice cut through the tension, dry amusement threading his words.
“Sophia, instead of playing the victim, maybe you should take Ethan to the hospital. They might still save a few of his fingers.” His lips quirked. “Signing contracts with mangled hands would be… awkward.”
Isabella stifled a laugh, briefly picturing Ethan struggling to sign documents with a ruined hand.
Sophia’s face flushed, tears welling—but her usual tactic failed. Neither Alexander nor Isabella cared.
Alexander remained impassive. Ethan was too consumed by pain to comfort her.
With a frustrated sniff, Sophia wiped her tears and moved to support him.
“Come on, Ethan. Let’s go.”
