Chapter 228
Ethan Blackwood was suing her? Isabella Sinclair’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile.
They had settled everything during the divorce.
What possible grounds could he have now? She was genuinely baffled.
The divorce had been thorough—every asset, every claim, every lingering thread neatly severed. So why was Ethan dredging up the past? Alexander Kingsley’s voice dripped with derision.
“He’s accusing you of siphoning off his assets during the divorce—ten million dollars, apparently.”
Ethan and Sophia Kensington could be astonishingly petty.
For someone of Isabella’s caliber, ten million was pocket change. If she wanted capital, she could raise billions overnight. If she had truly been after money, she wouldn’t have wasted three years on a man like Ethan.
In fact, Alexander almost felt she deserved that sum as compensation for enduring him.
Julian Whitmore let out a disbelieving scoff.
“Isabella isn’t that kind of person. How could they even entertain such a ridiculous notion?”
Alexander nodded.
“Sebastian mentioned Ethan’s subsidiary took heavy losses, and you briefly held a position there. Now he’s claiming you orchestrated the downfall from within.”
Isabella nearly laughed aloud.
“He really is an absolute fool.”
Instead of holding his own executives accountable, Ethan was flailing, desperate to pin the blame on someone else. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.
“Why stop there? He might as well claim Sophia’s runaway bride act and her disdain for the Blackwood family’s ruin were all part of my master plan to marry him.”
Her sarcasm was razor-sharp, but she wasn’t worried. Courts required evidence, not baseless accusations.
Before she could take another bite, a perfectly deboned piece of fish landed on her plate. Julian smirked at her, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“Thoughtful, right?” He shot Alexander a challenging glance, clearly seizing the moment to one-up him.
Alexander’s eyes narrowed.
“How unexpectedly attentive of you, Dr. Whitmore,” he drawled, his tone laced with ice.
Annoyance flickered across Alexander’s face as he picked up another piece of fish, meticulously removing the bones before placing it on Isabella’s plate. His fork stabbed a little too aggressively, the delicate flesh nearly shredded—each jab seemingly aimed at Julian.
“I’ve always wondered, Ms. Sinclair,” Alexander mused, his voice deceptively light, “why did you choose Ethan in the first place? You had a good relationship with William, didn’t you? But I doubt you’d marry out of gratitude.”
Isabella’s expression darkened. The words gratitude and marry scraped against old wounds.
“I was young and naive,” she said quietly.
Memories surfaced—the boy who had once promised to marry her while they were running for their lives. That promise now tasted like ash.
Who could have predicted how swiftly hearts could turn?
Alexander watched her, sensing the shift in her mood, but didn’t press further. Instead, his mind wandered to the time he’d taken a knife for her. She had joked then—”A life-saving debt should be repaid with a lifetime of gratitude.”
It had been a jest. Yet, even now, the memory unsettled him, stirring something deep in his chest.
He forced a self-deprecating smile.
Pathetic.
As if he’d ever cash in on something like that.
Outside the law firm, Sophia leaned against Ethan’s shoulder, her voice honeyed with false concern.
“Ethan, isn’t this too extreme? Accusing her of embezzlement could land her in prison.”
Her eyes gleamed with barely concealed excitement.
“Do we really need to be this harsh?”
The word prison made Ethan stiffen. He only wanted Isabella to beg for forgiveness—not rot behind bars.
Sophia noticed his hesitation and pressed closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“Even if she had ulterior motives, she did stay with the Blackwoods for years. It was mutually beneficial. If we push too hard, she might just run to someone else.”
She let the implication hang in the air.
“Remember, right after the divorce, she was already with another man. She must have been desperate. Otherwise, why would she have played the obedient wife for so long?”
Ethan’s jaw clenched.
No man could stomach being made a fool of—not even after a divorce. The thought of Isabella relying on someone else? Unbearable.
“Hmph,” he muttered darkly. “This time, no matter who she turns to, it won’t save her.”
