Chapter 240
William Blackwood’s gaze turned glacial, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
“What do you mean only? I’ve made it clear—I don’t need a grandson. But I do have one granddaughter, Isabella Sinclair.”
Eleanor Blackwood’s face flushed crimson, her fury igniting like dry tinder. Why is this stubborn old man defending an outsider? She moved to speak, but Jonathan Blackwood shoved her aside without hesitation.
“You’re not off the hook yet!” With those words, the fragile peace dissolved into chaos.
Ethan Blackwood stood frozen, watching the storm his parents had unleashed. His mind reeled, trapped in a hurricane of disbelief. His grandfather—the man who had always championed him—now stood against him, ruthless and unyielding.
William’s earlier words echoed in Ethan’s skull, stripping him bare. Was he truly done with him? Was he ready to cast him aside as the Blackwood heir?
And then there were Isabella and Alexander Kingsley—outsiders in this storm, silently witnessing his humiliation. The shame twisted inside him like a knife, each breath harder to draw than the last.
When his eyes locked with Alexander’s, the faint smirk on the man’s lips was unbearable. It was as if they were savoring his downfall, united in his disgrace.
A dark, consuming rage clouded Ethan’s vision.
“It’s you… Isabella.” His voice was a low snarl. “You planned all of this, didn’t you? You set me up from the beginning!”
Isabella’s expression twisted in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?” Her sharp gaze took in Ethan—his fists clenched, his body trembling on the edge of control.
Ethan had always been prideful, but now, the ugly revelations about his mother’s betrayal and his grandfather’s rejection had shattered him.
Yet Isabella had no part in it.
Once, she might have pitied him. Now, she felt nothing but contempt, not even granting him another glance.
Ethan let out a hollow laugh. “Isabella, you’ve known Donovan Sinclair for years. Why didn’t you tell me back then? Three years ago, you could have warned me! But you stayed silent, waiting for this moment like some grand performance!”
Desperation warped reason, and Ethan, broken by the blows, clung to the delusion that this was all an elaborate scheme.
“And you definitely made Donovan give that video to Sophia Kensington, just so you could humiliate me publicly today!” His accusations revealed not just pain, but sheer ignorance.
Isabella didn’t bother responding. What was the point? Reasoning with him now would be like shouting into a void.
But Ethan wasn’t waiting for an answer. His mind was already spiraling, lost in his own torment.
“You… you probably had Donovan seduce my mother too, didn’t you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, as if clinging to this absurd fantasy was the only way he could breathe. “And then you tricked Sophia into all of this…”
Eleanor, hearing Sophia’s name, snapped.
“Sophia!” Her face darkened with fury. “You conniving little snake! Always stirring up trouble!” Before anyone could react, her hand lashed out—a vicious slap cracking through the air.
Sophia staggered back, a red mark blooming on her cheek. But Eleanor wasn’t finished. Her rage boiled over, her fingers curling like claws.
“I knew you were scheming! Trying to provoke Ethan into ruining William’s birthday banquet—you did this on purpose!”
The room erupted.
