Victor Sullivan trembled with rage, pointing an accusing finger at Ethan. "You ungrateful son! Isabella is like my own daughter!"

"If you love her so much, why don't you marry her yourself?" Ethan sneered before turning on his heel and striding away.

Isabella Valentine watched his retreating figure, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Theodore Valentine pulled his weeping daughter into an embrace, clumsily wiping her tears. "Don't cry for that heartless bastard."

"Daddy..." Isabella buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

Theodore glared at Victor. "Both your sons have ruined my daughter! I demand an explanation today!"

Victor's face darkened. "Theodore, you can't force matters of the heart. I'm devastated too, but—"

"Enough!" Theodore cut him off sharply. "Where's that bastard Adrian? I want him to explain himself!"

Lazily sprawled on the sofa, Adrian Sullivan drawled, "Uncle Theodore, I was drugged that night. Your precious daughter was completely sober—she didn't resist at all. Quite the opposite, actually."

"You—!" Isabella shook with fury but couldn't refute his claim.

Theodore's face flushed crimson as he pushed his daughter's wheelchair toward the exit. "We're leaving! The Sullivans are nothing but trash!"

The moment they cleared the gates, Isabella dropped her act. "That bastard Adrian! If not for him, I could've—"

"Shut up!" Theodore snapped, humiliation twisting his features. "Haven't we been embarrassed enough?"

The next morning...

Sophia Laurent was viewing properties with a realtor when her phone rang. Her fingers trembled slightly at the caller ID.

On the fifth ring, she finally answered.

"I heard you're looking for studio space?" Ethan's deep voice resonated through the line.

Sophia froze. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." His low chuckle sent warmth through her. "There's a villa at Phoenix Cove—I bought it in your name last year. Meant to gift it for your birthday."

Her throat tightened. "But we're already—"

"The deed only has your name." Ethan interrupted firmly. "This came from my personal investments, nothing to do with the Sullivan fortune."

Within ten minutes of hanging up, two bodyguards delivered the property documents.

When Sophia stood before the villa's entrance, her breath caught.

The fingerprint lock beeped open, revealing a soaring six-meter foyer where crystal chandeliers scattered prismatic light across marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking panorama of river and distant mountains.

She raced upstairs and gasped upon opening the study—two mahogany workbenches stood ready, equipped with every antique restoration tool imaginable. Even her preferred goat-hair brushes were arranged precisely as she kept them.

With trembling hands, she dialed Ethan. "This place...it's perfect. How much? Let me pay you back."

Amusement colored his voice. "What kind of gentleman charges for gifts?"

Gazing at the shimmering river beyond the glass, Sophia suddenly felt an old ache stir deep in her chest.