Chapter 230
William Blackwood was no saint, and he knew perfectly well that Ethan wasn’t his only grandson.
His own son had been notorious for his reckless affairs, leaving behind a trail of illegitimate children—all circling like vultures, waiting for their share of the Blackwood fortune.
So, Ethan had never been particularly special to him.
And now, with Ethan hopelessly entangled with a woman whose ambitions outweighed her loyalty, William had lost whatever respect he once held for him. His disapproval had been made clear when he refused to attend Ethan’s wedding.
“Isabella, don’t worry,” William said, his voice firm and unwavering. “I know exactly who deserves an invitation to my birthday celebration—and who doesn’t.”
“I won’t let anyone embarrass you.”
“It’s just a small gathering. A few old friends, nothing more.”
Decades of navigating family betrayals and corporate wars had sharpened his instincts. He could spot a fraud from miles away.
“You must be busy,” he continued, his tone softening. “I was abroad for a while and didn’t reach out. How about I introduce you to some of my connections tomorrow? It might open new doors for you.”
Then, with a fatherly sternness, he added, “And remember—men aren’t a necessity. Strength comes from within.”
Isabella lowered her head, a faint smile touching her lips. “Thank you, William.”
His sincerity moved her.
Though she had only known him for three years, even after leaving the Blackwood family, he had treated her like his own—always looking out for her, meticulously planning for her future.
To refuse his kindness now would be ungrateful.
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
William stroked his beard, chuckling. “Good, good! I’ll be waiting.”
Then, as if sensing her hesitation, he quickly added, “And don’t worry. The Blackwood Group is my life’s work. Even in retirement, no one touches my shares or assets.”
His voice turned sharp with disdain. “I’ve lived long enough to know that blood means nothing. People will sell their souls for money—and you’ll find them everywhere.”
“Isabella, I respect you. Don’t concern yourself with petty opinions. You’ve agreed to come—that’s all that matters.”
A sly grin tugged at his lips. “Besides, many of my friends have exceptional sons. I’d be happy to introduce you.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “People who would sell their souls for money…” Was he hinting at something?
William snorted, reading her mind. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about Ethan. He’s foolish, but not greedy—though he’s certainly never been the sharpest tool in the shed.”
Isabella laughed softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there. On time.”
Meanwhile, at the Blackwood estate, Ethan’s expression was thunderous as he slammed a stack of financial reports onto the table.
“How is there no problem? The company’s been hemorrhaging money for years! Just this year alone—ten million gone. Someone’s sabotaging us.”
His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table. “The money didn’t just vanish. But without proof, we’re stuck.”
Sophia Kensington, flipping through the documents, frowned. The numbers were clean—too clean.
“Isabella is cunning,” she murmured, her voice laced with frustration. “Ethan, the money isn’t the real issue. It’s the precedent. If we let this slide, others will follow.”
She leaned closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, her eyes scanning the report again.
Though she couldn’t pinpoint the exact flaw, she knew exactly how to twist the knife.
“Maybe there’s a mole in the subsidiary,” she said, feigning innocence. “I heard Donovan Sinclair was acting president before. Handsome, in his thirties… and he did have quite a few interactions with Isabella back then.”
Ethan’s jaw clenched.
“Donovan?” he repeated, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ll find out exactly how close he was to Isabella.”
