Before Isabella Valentine could react, several sharp slaps landed on her face.

The stinging pain spread instantly, her ears ringing from the impact.

She had been the pampered princess of her family since childhood—when had she ever suffered such humiliation?

Blinded by rage, she shrieked and lunged forward, claws aimed at the other woman's face.

The two instantly tangled into a chaotic struggle.

The Valentine family driver, hiding nearby, rushed out and barely managed to pull them apart.

Only then did Isabella see her attacker clearly—Natalie Sullivan, Ethan Sullivan's younger sister.

Sophia Laurent also recognized Natalie and quickly stepped in front of her protectively.

Seeing the bloody scratches on Natalie's wrist, Sophia winced in sympathy, pulling a Band-Aid from her bag and gently applying it. "Does it hurt?"

Natalie sucked in a sharp breath. "Don't worry about me, sis. Did she hurt you?"

Sophia shook her head.

Natalie turned her furious glare on Isabella. "No point reasoning with trash like her. Just hit first!"

Isabella trembled with rage.

Forcing back her anger, she squeezed out two tears. "Natalie, we grew up together—"

"Cut the crap!" Natalie sneered. "You ran faster than anyone when my brother was in trouble. Now that he's better, you come crawling back?"

Isabella paled. "I had no choice—"

"Bullshit!" Natalie cut her off mercilessly.

Just then, Sophia's phone rang.

The caller ID—"Ethan Sullivan"—made her fingers tremble slightly.

"At the bistro on Antique Street," she answered curtly.

Hanging up, Sophia stared at the blindingly bright white roses on the table, her chest tightening.

Three minutes later, Ethan strode into the restaurant.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his godlike beauty instantly drew every gaze in the room.

Isabella's eyes lit up as she rushed over. "Ethan!"

Pointing at her swollen cheek, she tearfully accused, "Sophia insulted me, and Natalie hit me..."

Ethan turned to Sophia. "Is that true?"

Sophia's lips twisted slightly.

So this was the woman he cherished—lying came as naturally as breathing to her.

Natalie cut in first. "Bro, Isabella provoked Sophia first!"

Isabella tearfully reached for Ethan's hand. "Ethan, you have to believe me—"

Natalie yanked her away. "Stay the hell away from my brother!"

Suddenly, Isabella clutched her chest, her face deathly pale.

Ethan frowned. "She has depression. Don't provoke her."

"Depression isn't an excuse to be a bitch!" Natalie shot back, unyielding.

Isabella fled the restaurant in tears.

Ethan signaled his bodyguard. "Keep an eye on her."

Natalie scoffed. "Such an act!"

"Natalie!" Ethan's expression darkened.

Sophia shielded Natalie behind her. "Blame me instead."

Ethan's gaze softened slightly as he pulled out a tube of ointment. "For scars. Apply it."

Sophia stared at the tube, lost in thought.

He always did this—gave her hope only to disappoint her again.

Natalie shoved the ointment into Sophia's hands. "If you dare hurt her, I’ll disown you!"

Ignoring her, Ethan took Sophia's hand. "Let's eat?"

Sophia yanked her hand back. "No need."

"Last night was a misunderstanding," he murmured.

"I was the one intruding," Sophia replied, her voice trembling.

Leaving the restaurant, Sophia walked straight into a florist.

"Two hundred white roses," she said, pointing to the most expensive variety.

When the massive bouquet was handed over, Sophia stubbornly lifted it herself.

Ethan moved to help, but she sidestepped him.

"You like white roses too?" he asked.

"No."

"Then why buy them?"

"Because I want to." Her tone was icy.

Amusement flickered in Ethan's eyes. "Next time, I'll get you what you actually like."

Sophia pressed her lips together.

In truth, she preferred wild mountain flowers. These were just bought out of spite.

As they neared Antique Treasures, Sophia stopped. "You can leave me here."

"Afraid your coworkers will see?"

"We're getting divorced anyway." Her voice was almost inaudible.

Ethan stood still, watching her slender figure fade into the distance.

At the shop entrance, Sophia ran into Dr. Julian Evans.

"From your boyfriend?" He smiled, nodding at the bouquet.

"I bought them myself." She handed him the flowers. "Would you mind?"

"It'd be my honor, Ms. Laurent." Julian was the picture of courtesy.

The two walked into the shop chatting and laughing.

From afar, Ethan's gaze turned glacial.

He dialed his assistant. "Investigate that man. Especially whether his childhood nickname was 'Kyle.'"