Ethan Sullivan adjusted his cuffs with deliberate slowness, his gaze icy.

"That slap was merciful."

Isabella Valentine clutched her stinging cheek, stunned.

She couldn't believe Ethan had struck her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she bit her quivering lip. "Ethan, what did I do wrong?"

His laugh was cold.

"Need I remind you about last night?"

He turned and yanked open the car door, sliding inside without a backward glance.

The door slammed shut.

The engine roared as the car sped away, leaving Isabella standing alone, her face burning.

Inside the vehicle, Ethan pulled out a disinfectant wipe.

He methodically cleaned each finger, as if touching something foul.

The spoiled girl from three years ago had become a scheming viper.

Lies dripped from her tongue like poison.

Disgusting.

——

At the hotel, Sophia Laurent was brushing her teeth when Ethan entered the bathroom.

He pumped hand soap three times.

"What happened to your hands?" Sophia asked, puzzled.

"Touched something filthy."

She took his hands under the running water, lacing her fingers through his.

Suddenly, his grip tightened.

"I'm glad you came."

Sophia murmured an acknowledgment.

But inwardly, she thought: How could I trust without seeing for myself?

Isabella's words festered like a thorn in her heart.

Sophia abruptly wrapped her arms around Ethan, pressing her face against his chest.

"What's wrong?" He stroked her hair.

"Now I understand how you felt."

Ethan arched a brow.

"In Dorset Village... when you saw me with Kyle Grant—"

"A bit unpleasant," he admitted with a faint smile.

"I'm sorry."

"My fault too."

The memory of that night's injustice surfaced—needing comfort but receiving suspicion instead.

Yet now, her fury burned brighter for Isabella.

Those malicious lies could never be forgiven.

——

Meanwhile, Isabella arrived at Victor Sullivan's suite, sobbing.

"Uncle Victor, Ethan hit me—"

Tears streamed down her face as she displayed her swollen cheek.

Victor's face darkened with rage at the sight.

"That damn boy!"

Isabella grabbed his arm. "Don't blame Ethan, it's my fault—"

Her feigned meekness only fueled his indignation.

"Wait here, I'll get ice."

He turned toward the kitchenette.

Isabella perched demurely on the sofa.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Yogurt, please."

Victor handed her a glass—which suddenly slipped.

Yogurt splattered across Isabella's skirt.

Both bent to wipe the spill.

At that exact moment—

The electronic lock beeped.

Audrey Sullivan stood frozen in the doorway, her face ashen.

Her gaze darted between them before settling on Victor's hovering hands.

"How... charming," Audrey sneered.

Victor straightened hastily. "Let me explain—"

"Explain what?" Her lips curled. "Your midlife crisis?"

"Don't be absurd! She's Natalie's age!"

Audrey shot Isabella a look of pure revulsion.

"Victor, we're done."

She spun on her heel.

Victor lunged after her. "You've got it all wrong!"

Audrey wrenched her arm free.

"Don't touch me. You're disgusting."