Chapter 193
The staff exchanged uneasy glances, their hesitation palpable. Before they could utter a word, Isabella Sinclair cut in smoothly, “I once helped the owner of this institute. We’ve been friends ever since.”
She smirked, her tone light but firm. “It’s not as scandalous as you’re imagining.”
Ethan Blackwood and Sophia Kensington, predictably, found no membership records under her name. Of course not—Isabella wasn’t just a member. She was an investor.
But she had no intention of revealing that.
Ethan scoffed, his disbelief sharpening into something uglier. “You expect anyone to believe that? Only a child would fall for such a ridiculous story.” The idea of her saving the institute’s elusive owner was too absurd for him to swallow.
One of the staff members, sensing Isabella’s reluctance to disclose her status, quickly stepped in. “Ms. Sinclair did save our boss’s life. Because of that, she holds a special place here—by his direct orders. If you continue causing trouble, we will intervene.”
Ethan’s expression darkened, but with the staff backing Isabella’s claim, his options dwindled. This institute had ties to powerful families, and provoking them wasn’t worth the risk.
Yet, retreating was bitter. His fists clenched at his sides, frustration simmering beneath his skin.
What unsettled him more was the effortless way Isabella conversed in a foreign language with the staff. In his mind, she had always been uncultured—a middle school dropout from the countryside who’d weaseled her way into his life. Being near her had once felt like contamination.
But time and again, she shattered his assumptions.
Where had she learned to speak like that?
“Let’s go,” Isabella said, already turning away, done with the conversation.
Ethan’s scowl deepened as she moved toward the medicine she’d so easily obtained. The thought of her meeting the institute’s owner grated on him.
“Isabella,” he called, desperation creeping into his voice. “I have no other choice. My mother was once kind to you, and I’ve said things I regret. But I don’t want to see you make a mistake.”
He stepped forward, his tone pleading. “We were married once. There must still be something between us. And my grandfather—don’t you care if he’s hurt? He’s old. If my mother dies, it will destroy him.”
His voice cracked. “She’s stood by him for decades, flaws and all. Can’t you let us in, just this once?”
Ethan thought he was being humble. He didn’t notice the dangerous shift in Alexander Kingsley’s gaze.
The mere mention of their past marriage ignited something primal in Alexander. If not for Amelia’s presence, he wasn’t sure what he might have done.
Sebastian Harrington, ever perceptive, subtly stepped back. The warmth of the day did nothing to dispel the chill that settled whenever Alexander’s temper flared.
Isabella’s voice cut through Ethan’s plea like ice. “That won’t work on me anymore. You think invoking your grandfather will soften me? Last time, you used his illness to drag me back, and I fell for it. You never cared about his health—only now, when it suits you.”
Her words teetered on the edge of cruelty. “That man protected you for half his life. Yet at your and Sophia’s wedding, he wasn’t even there because you couldn’t respect his wishes. Now, when you’re desperate, you trot him out like a shield. What a grandson you’ve turned out to be.”
Ethan’s face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He opened his mouth to retort—
But Alexander’s assistant seized his wrist in an iron grip.
“Mr. Blackwood,” Sebastian said coolly, “our boss has made it clear—no one touches Ms. Sinclair.”
The warning was clear, but the threat in Alexander’s eyes spoke louder.
“Let me give you one more piece of advice,” Alexander said, his voice lethally soft. “Never bring up your marriage to her again. We both know what you did during those three years. If I hear you digging up the past or parading around that pathetic excuse for a marriage, I’ll ensure the entire city knows every sordid detail.”
His smile was razor-sharp. “You’ve already turned the Blackwoods into a joke. But I can guarantee—it will only get worse if you push me.”
Ethan paled, his bravado crumbling.
“Please leave,” the staff member interjected, stepping forward to block their path definitively.
Sophia, her voice barely audible, tugged at Ethan’s sleeve. “Ethan, let’s go.”
With no other choice, he stormed out, humiliation burning through him. His fists clenched, knuckles white with rage.
What a disgrace.
Alexander might be wealthy, but he was still just a cripple. One day, Isabella would realize she’d chosen the wrong man.
And when that day came, they would both pay.
