Chapter 83
Sophia glared at Isabella, her face twisted with self-righteous fury.
“Isabella, even though you and Ethan are divorced now, you two once shared something special. How can you be so cruel, taking pleasure in his suffering? It’s despicable! And honestly, moving on so fast after the divorce? Seems like you had it all planned from the start.”
Her words lacked their usual venom, but the reason was obvious—she was seething with jealousy.
Isabella had lived a life of luxury for years, a life Sophia believed should have been hers. She had expected Isabella to crumble after the divorce, to end up broken and penniless. But instead, Sophia and Ethan had been the ones humiliated—begging for forgiveness, making public apologies, even jumping into a river. One disaster after another.
“You’re shameless, Isabella,” Sophia spat, her voice dripping with envy.
What infuriated her most was that even the notoriously unpredictable Alexander had stepped in to defend Isabella.
Alexander’s dark eyes glinted dangerously. “If you’re so eager to meet your end, why not jump out a window? It’d be quicker than wasting my time.” His voice was low, laced with a chilling threat that sent shivers down everyone’s spines.
“Miss Sinclair is my niece’s ceramics instructor,” he continued, his tone icy. “If I hear one more baseless rumor about her, you’ll be counting the bones I break.”
This wasn’t just a warning. Alexander usually ignored gossip, but with Isabella involved, he couldn’t stay silent. The thought of her being dragged into such filth made his blood boil.
Ethan, who had never been humiliated like this in his life, saw red. “Isabella? A pottery teacher?” he sneered. “Who knows what she’s really teaching behind closed doors? And you, Mr. Kingsley, lowering yourself for a divorced woman—are you that desperate? When she and I—”
His words cut off as realization struck. His gaze locked onto Isabella. “Ah, I see now. When you went to Kingsley Group for that sponsorship, you weren’t just negotiating with words, were you?”
Smack!
Isabella had had enough. Her palm cracked against Ethan’s cheek with enough force to leave a stinging red mark.
“For years, I fought to save your family’s company while you drowned in alcohol and incompetence. Your father begged for my help because he couldn’t stand the sight of you anymore.”
Her glare was glacial. “If I hadn’t spent hours waiting at Kingsley Group to secure that deal, you’d be homeless by now.”
Sophia opened her mouth to retort, but Isabella’s piercing stare froze her in place. It was like standing in the heart of a blizzard—cold, deadly, suffocating.
“Instead of thanking me for preserving your wealth and status, you repay me with slander and lies. Pathetic. You have no conscience, do you? And considering how quick you are to accuse others of ‘trading with their bodies,’ I assume you’re speaking from experience, Mr. Blackwood.”
Ethan’s ears still rang from the slap. The cool breeze did nothing to soothe his fury. For a fleeting moment, the weight of his mistakes crashed down on him.
But it was too late.
