Isabella Sinclair had no intention of accepting the bracelet.
As a renowned designer, her jewelry collection was nothing short of extraordinary—each piece priceless in its own right. And she wasn’t foolish enough to miss the thinly veiled implications behind Eleanor Blackwood’s words.
With a practiced, silken smile, she smoothly shifted the conversation.
“I heard Sophia won your approval the moment she returned,” Isabella remarked, her tone light but laced with something sharper. “Ethan told me you even dined together, and you gave her your blessing. That’s how the engagement renewal came about, isn’t it?”
Even Eleanor, with her usual composure, faltered slightly.
To Eleanor, Isabella had always been the cleverest woman in the room. But an orphan with no influential connections, no matter how stunning or capable, simply didn’t bring enough to the table. She hadn’t expected her son to be so reckless as to boast about such things in front of Isabella.
Sophia, at least, had returned from abroad with a substantial severance and a family business that had grown into a thriving agricultural empire. She could support Ethan’s ventures.
But someone as sharp as Isabella? Far harder to control.
Eleanor sighed, the sound of a chess player conceding a minor loss in a much larger game.
“I’m just a woman,” she said, her voice tinged with resignation. “I’ve been out of the company’s affairs for years. In the end, my only reliance is my son.”
She paused, deliberate.
“Sophia isn’t as capable as you, Isabella. Even after the divorce, you’ll always be family to us. You’re like a daughter to me. But if Ethan’s heart is no longer in it… what can I do?”
Isabella’s smile widened, but it was razor-edged.
Eleanor had a gift for twisting narratives. Despite keeping Isabella in the dark, she spun the situation as if she were doing her a favor—saving her from a loveless marriage. It was manipulation wrapped in false kindness.
Today, Isabella saw it clearer than ever.
“No need for sentimentality,” Isabella replied, her tone polite but icy. “I prefer things clean. Procrastination isn’t my style. Besides visiting William today, I’m also here to rescind the Cobweb invitation.”
The game was over. The pleasantries had ended.
Isabella’s voice was firm, the steel beneath it unmistakable. “Since you consider me family, let me see William.”
Eleanor’s smile stiffened, her warmth freezing over like a winter pond.
“William is occupied. There’s no rush,” she countered, her voice dropping several degrees. “You received the invitation from Cobweb, and the Blackwoods are grateful. But let’s be honest—what good does clinging to it do you? Without the Blackwood name, do you truly believe securing that invitation was effortless?”
Unlike Ethan, Eleanor knew how to play her cards. She understood just how vital Cobweb’s intelligence network was to the company’s survival.
“I only want what’s best for you, Isabella,” she added, her tone deceptively gentle. “You have no family. Holding onto that invitation won’t help you. Hand it over, and perhaps we can protect you if trouble arises. A win-win, don’t you think? You’re still young. Don’t make things harder than they need to be.”
Though Isabella had anticipated the veiled threat, the words still sent a chill through her.
Three years of devotion. Years spent at Eleanor’s side, nursing her through illness, tending to her needs. And this was her reward?
But Isabella had always carried a stubborn streak. She lifted her chin, her smile laced with quiet mockery.
“Can the Blackwoods truly protect me?”
Eleanor studied her, and for the first time, she saw something new in Isabella’s gaze—something sharp, dangerous, like a blade poised to cut through even the thickest façade.
“If Cobweb had issued that invitation for the Blackwoods,” Isabella said, her voice eerily calm, “I wouldn’t have been involved in the first place.”
The faintest hint of derision laced her words, and Eleanor caught it.
“And even if it was for me, the name on the invitation is mine. Now that Ethan and I are divorced, the Blackwoods have no claim to it.”
Eleanor nearly choked on her tea, her composure cracking. She hadn’t expected Isabella to outmaneuver her so effortlessly.
A storm brewed in Eleanor’s eyes as she scrambled for a solution. Without Cobweb, the Blackwoods would be blind—left stumbling while their competitors danced circles around them.
If only Ethan had understood what was at stake before the divorce.
Just then, the front door swung open.
“Mr. Ethan Blackwood and Ms. Kensington have returned!” Victoria’s voice rang through the hall as she ushered them in.
Sophia entered, clinging to Ethan’s arm, her smile saccharine. “Thank you.”
But the moment they stepped into the living room and saw Isabella, they froze—as if staring at a ghost from another life.
Ethan blinked in shock.
Was this the same woman he had once known so intimately?
There she stood, in a simple emerald dress, devoid of jewelry, yet radiating an undeniable brilliance. She looked even more breathtaking now than she had on that lavish cruise.
And her eyes—cold, distant, unreadable.
