Ethan’s voice was laced with icy contempt.
“Mr. Kingsley, perhaps you’re unaware of the full picture. Isabella once saved my grandfather’s life, then exploited his gratitude to manipulate her way into marrying me. She’s just an uneducated orphan who never made it past middle school. How could someone like her possibly comprehend the artistry of pottery? Don’t let her act deceive you.”
Sophia, ever the loyal shadow at his side, shook her head with feigned sympathy. “Ethan, that’s harsh. Isabella has endured so much. And well… she just went through a divorce. I mean, before the papers were signed…” She trailed off, as if hesitating to reveal something damning. “Never mind. It’s not my place. But it’s only been days since your separation, and she’s already moving on without a second thought.”
“All she’s ever had is her face,” Ethan snapped, his disgust evident. “Now that she’s alone, she can’t stand the idea of struggling. So what’s her game? Climbing the social ladder again, obviously—this time by fooling you with her lies, Mr. Kingsley.”
Isabella’s hands paused mid-motion as she lifted her gaze, meeting his words with an unreadable stare. The disappointment was hard to mask. Realizing someone had flaws was one thing; watching them descend into outright cruelty was another.
Years ago, she’d saved Ethan’s grandfather by sheer chance. Back then, she’d clung to the hope that Ethan might remember the bond they once shared. As children, they’d narrowly escaped kidnappers together, and he’d whispered a promise to her: “One day, you’ll be my wife, Isabella.” She was the only one who had held onto that memory. Later, when she learned he had a lasting love elsewhere, she’d walked away silently, believing their paths would never cross again.
But when Sophia fled an arranged marriage and vanished overseas, William had come begging, pleading with Isabella to save his family. She’d agreed, stepping into a role no one else could fill.
Now, after three long years, Ethan seemed determined to drag her name through the mud. A quiet scoff escaped her lips. Whatever lingering affection she might have harbored for him withered in that moment.
Alexander, seated nearby, sensed the shift in her demeanor but remained silent. He knew Isabella didn’t need pity. She was strong enough to stand alone.
“Every piece of pottery in our home was crafted by my hands,” she said, her voice steady. “But I never expected you to notice. You barely spent time there, and when you did, you never saw anything beyond your own reflection.”
Her words were sharp, yet delivered without a trace of anger. “And as for social climbing? I could never outdo Sophia even if I tried.”
Ethan faltered, caught off guard. This wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated. Isabella wasn’t defensive or flustered—she wasn’t even angry. Instead, she was eerily composed, making his earlier insults seem petty in comparison.
The truth was, Isabella had never hidden anything from him. But for three years, Ethan had treated her as if she were invisible. In his mind, she was shallow and scheming—why would he have noticed the changes in their home? Eventually, she’d stopped trying.
Lost in thought for a moment, she barely registered the slight wobble in the vase she was shaping.
“Is there anything else you’d like to say?” she asked, meeting his gaze with eyes as cold as winter frost. What had been a peaceful afternoon had been shattered by their intrusion.
Ethan was speechless. Isabella had always been gentle with him, easy to overlook. He’d never seen her like this—confident, distant, untouchable. Her presence filled the room, making the air feel heavier.
Sophia, meanwhile, still felt the sting of Isabella’s earlier slap. The faint red marks lingered beneath layers of concealer.
Alexander, observing the scene, couldn’t resist adding his own cutting remark. “Mistaking a diamond for glass… It’s laughable how someone can discard a treasure and cling to trash.” His gaze flicked to the vase, unimpressed. “Isabella doesn’t need to climb anyone’s ladder. She could build her own, and once she does, you won’t even reach the first rung.”
His words hung in the air, the quiet intensity of his voice sending a chill through the room. “So either say what you came here to say, or leave. Stop pretending you matter.”
