“So, you’re into pottery now?” Alexander sneered, his dark eyes flicking toward Sophia with icy disdain. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as his gaze lingered, sharp and unyielding.
Sophia’s fingers curled into fists instinctively, her nails biting into her palms as she averted her eyes.
“You claim to admire the craft, yet you can’t even recognize Isabella’s work,” Alexander continued, his voice dripping with contempt. “There’s no reason for you to be here. And frankly, I doubt Isabella wants to see you either.”
His words were like a blade, slicing through Sophia’s carefully constructed composure. Heat flooded her cheeks, her expression twisting between humiliation and fury. She swallowed the anger bubbling inside her, forcing a tight, bitter smile.
“Mr. Kingsley, you certainly have a way with words,” she said, feigning innocence. “I had no idea this was one of Isabella’s pieces. She was always so… domestic at the villa. Ethan’s mother used to praise her endlessly—how different she was from those flashy socialites. I just assumed she didn’t have time for something so refined.” She turned to Ethan, her voice laced with mock surprise. “Ethan, darling, if you knew she was this talented, why didn’t you tell me? You’ve made me look like a fool in front of Mr. Kingsley.”
Ethan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “There’s a lot I didn’t know about her,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the pottery.
The piece was exquisite—delicate yet bold, each curve and line crafted with precision. It was the work of a master. How had Isabella, the woman he’d dismissed as nothing more than a dutiful wife, created something like this?
A knot of unease coiled in his chest. For years, he’d believed her world revolved around him, that she had no life beyond their marriage. But now, it was as if she existed in a world entirely separate from his, one he’d never bothered to explore.
And seeing her beside Alexander only deepened the sting.
They sat bathed in soft sunlight, their heads bent close as they worked, their movements synchronized like two halves of a perfect whole.
Ethan had always thought of Isabella as shallow—a woman who’d barely left their divorce behind before surrounding herself with admirers. And now, here she was, wrapped up with Alexander Kingsley, the ruthless CEO of the Kingsley Group.
His grip on Sophia’s waist tightened, his fingers digging in as his expression turned glacial.
“Mr. Kingsley,” Ethan said, his voice low and edged with challenge. “I’ve heard nothing but praise for your business acumen. My grandfather always spoke highly of you. But even the sharpest minds can be deceived. No one is immune to mistakes—not even someone like you.”
Alexander didn’t even glance up. His attention remained fixed on the clay in front of him, his fingers deftly shaping the form as if Ethan hadn’t spoken at all. He dipped a brush into water, smoothing the edges with deliberate care, utterly indifferent to the conversation.
“Do you think thinning this section would enhance the elegance?” Alexander asked Isabella, his tone casual, as if they were alone. “Ignore the noise outside. Benjamin is eager to see the final piece.”
Isabella, absorbed in her work, answered without hesitation. “No, that would disrupt the balance. Hollow carving requires a different technique entirely, and this clay isn’t suited for it.”
Ethan stood frozen, the silence stretching between them. The two continued their quiet exchange, completely absorbed in their craft, as if he and Sophia were nothing more than shadows in the room.
It was unsettling.
In the past, Isabella’s eyes had always been on him. Even in their worst moments, her attention had never wavered. Now, it was as if he had vanished from her world entirely.
His grip on Sophia tightened further, his fingers pressing into her skin as a cold, unfamiliar emotion settled in his chest.
