Chapter 113
“Thank you, Eleanor.”
Sophia Kensington’s smile was as sweet as syrup, her voice laced with gentle authority as she reminded her new mother-in-law of her place. Then, her gaze flickered toward the door where her ex-husband had just exited. Sophia was nothing if not pragmatic—burning bridges served no purpose.
Even a fallen star still held remnants of its former radiance, and one never knew when that lingering glow might prove useful.
As she stepped into the hallway, Ethan Blackwood appeared before her, his expression unreadable.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I was going to say goodbye to my ex-husband,” she replied smoothly, her smile carefully measured. “I know inviting him was a mistake, but his intentions were pure. He meant no harm.”
Sophia was well-versed in the art of humility and the power of calculated concessions. Timing was everything.
Her ex-husband had once lavished her with affection and wealth without hesitation. He had even crossed continents to witness her wedding. Though he now treated her like a sister, the lingering adoration in his eyes was unmistakable. Sophia always left doors slightly ajar—just in case.
And if fortune ever favored him again…
Ethan’s thoughts darkened as he recalled his past generosity. Then, his mind flashed to Eleanor’s disdainful expression, the way her face had lit up at the mention of the ten-million-dollar dowry. A bitter resentment coiled inside him.
“So, Ethan,” Sophia said softly, “you don’t care, do you?”
But Ethan seemed oblivious to the storm brewing within her.
“I’ve already sent your ex-husband away,” he said flatly. “And your parents are settled in a hotel.”
His frown deepened as he thought of the spectacle they had made at the wedding. Today had been nothing like he’d envisioned. The silent judgment of the guests weighed on him—he had become a laughingstock in their eyes.
“Today has been a disaster,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Everything was rushed. If I had taken more time to know your family, if I had prepared better—”
Sophia caught the faint mockery in his tone. Her eyes widened in disbelief, tears welling as her lips trembled.
“Ethan,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “What are you trying to say? Are you blaming my family? Do you think they humiliated you?”
She swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “I didn’t know my ex would show up. He came to celebrate with us, not to cause trouble.”
Her tears threatened to spill as she raised her voice. “And why, on our wedding day, did you send my parents to a hotel? You couldn’t have arranged one of your family’s properties for them? They traveled so far, and you treat them like strangers? What will people think when they hear about this?”
Ethan’s temper, already frayed, snapped. The guests’ disapproving stares still burned in his memory. If he hadn’t stubbornly insisted on marrying Sophia, he wouldn’t have angered William, who had refused to attend. Without his grandfather’s presence, the guests had felt free to openly scorn him.
He had sacrificed so much for Sophia—his standing within his own family—and in return, her parents had turned the wedding into a circus.
Their behavior had been appalling.
A guest eager to toast had been dismissed simply because his company wasn’t prestigious enough. Yet when wealthier guests approached, her parents had fawned over them shamelessly.
“Careerists,” he spat, his voice thick with suppressed rage. “You think I’m blaming you? How did your ex even know about our wedding if you didn’t tell him? You invited him, didn’t you?”
“Ethan!” Sophia snapped, her tears forgotten, her voice sharp with anger. “You didn’t want your ex-wife at our wedding. Why can’t I invite mine? I didn’t send her the invitation—you did! Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re doing!”
Blinded by fury, Ethan spoke without thinking.
After all, Isabella Sinclair was an orphan with no influence. Even if she had attended, she would have been nothing more than a spectator. But Sophia’s ex-husband was different—a man of wealth and status. Her words today had been deliberate, meant to shame him.
Sophia stared at him, stunned. “Ethan, you’re really scolding me about Isabella?”
Her eyes turned red, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Seeing her disbelief, Ethan realized he had gone too far. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I need to clear my head. Don’t follow me.”
Sophia watched him leave, her anger boiling over as she stormed into the bridal suite. The room, adorned for their wedding, now felt suffocating. In a fit of rage, she swept the candles and wine glasses off the table, shattering them on the floor.
Their first day as husband and wife—meant to be joyous—had descended into chaos.
And if that wretched Isabella found out, she would be thrilled.
