Chapter 198
Ethan Blackwood’s expression darkened as his thoughts turned to what Isabella Sinclair might be plotting.
Money was the obvious motive, of course.
Without wasting another second, he dialed his assistant.
“I just recalled that the northern branch hasn’t undergone a financial audit in years. Look into it immediately,” he ordered, his voice sharp.
Sophia Kensington’s casual remark had triggered an old memory.
Two years ago, his grandfather, William Blackwood, had temporarily placed Isabella at the northern branch.
Ethan had thought the idea absurd back then—someone like her would only tarnish his reputation. He had demanded her resignation, insisting she stay at home instead.
But now, as he reflected, something didn’t add up.
That branch had never performed well.
What had Isabella done while she was there?
The assistant worked quickly, calling back within half an hour.
“Mr. Blackwood, the finance department reports continuous losses from the northern branch over the past two years, totaling over twenty million dollars. The books show no discrepancies, but the shareholders are concerned and are calling for a meeting.”
Ethan’s breath hitched at the staggering sum.
“I see,” he replied coldly before hanging up.
Now he was certain—Isabella was involved.
Before he could dwell further, Sophia’s voice cut in, dripping with false concern.
“That’s an enormous amount, Ethan. What made you check the branch so suddenly?”
Feigning innocence, she added, “Do you think Isabella’s behind it?”
“Who else would it be?” Ethan snapped, his anger flaring. “No wonder she was so eager to sign the divorce papers and cut ties. She knew she was guilty!”
Frustration burned through him as he tried calling Isabella, only to find his number blocked.
The failed connection only deepened his suspicions.
“If she wasn’t hiding something, why wouldn’t she answer?” he muttered, his voice icy.
The more he thought about it, the more restless he became.
Without hesitation, he booked a flight back to Ontdale, determined to confront her in person.
If necessary, he’d drag her to court.
She wasn’t getting away with stealing that much money.
“Ethan, I think your mother is still upset with me. I want to get her some supplements,” Sophia said sweetly as the plane touched down in Ontdale.
Preoccupied, Ethan waved her off absently. “Do whatever you want.”
He didn’t care where she went.
The moment he was out of sight, Sophia’s pleasant mask slipped, replaced by a cold, calculating glare.
She slipped into a secluded corner and pulled out her phone.
Things had spiraled beyond her control.
She hadn’t married into the Blackwood family to fight Eleanor or watch Ethan obsess over his ex-wife.
She had married for wealth and status—plain and simple.
Lately, Ethan had been distracted, especially when Isabella was involved.
No one understood him better than Sophia did.
He was jealous.
Ever since Alexander Kingsley had appeared by Isabella’s side, Ethan had grown even more resentful, feeling overshadowed.
But Sophia had her own jealousy to contend with.
Alexander Kingsley, heir to the Kingsley empire, was a prize.
How had that wretched Isabella ended up with a man like him, standing above her?
Sophia refused to let that slide.
Isabella needed to be dragged back down to where she belonged—beneath her.
With that in mind, Sophia dialed a number, her face expressionless.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
Sophia had already dug into Isabella’s past before returning home.
She knew about the bullying, the humiliation, the scars left behind from the orphanage.
Despite Isabella’s rise, there were people who would gladly help tear her back down.
“I don’t care how you do it. Get close to Isabella, humiliate her, and make sure everyone knows. You’ll get seven hundred thousand once it’s done.”
Sophia could already picture the moment Isabella would crumble.
And once she was humiliated, Sophia would ensure Alexander knew about her deceitful ways.
No man would want a woman with such a dark past.
“Isabella, your downfall is coming,” Sophia muttered smugly.
Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Oh, one more thing. She’s trying to fit in with high society now. Forget bothering her directly—use her past. Break her down from there. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?”
“Not at all! As long as the money’s there, I’ll get it done!”
A short, stocky man stepped into the light, his grin sleazy.
Darren Whitlock.
Isabella’s name had been a stroke of luck for him, but now, the promise of seven hundred thousand had his eyes gleaming.
After hanging up, he began plotting his next move.
Now that Isabella had climbed so high, it was only fair she helped out an old friend, wasn’t it?
Darren smirked, already calculating how much he could squeeze out of her.
If he couldn’t take it all at once, he’d take it piece by piece—until she had nothing left.
