Isabella stared at the high heels with a growing sense of dread.

Escape would be nearly impossible in these.

But showing up without them would instantly alert Ethan.

She sighed, forcing her feet into the shoes.

A sharp knock echoed at the door.

"Mrs. Blackwood, it's time to leave," a servant's respectful voice called from the hallway.

Isabella took a steadying breath, securing her phone discreetly against her chest before opening the door.

Ethan lounged casually on the downstairs sofa, reviewing documents.

He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, his eyes sweeping over her with calculated interest.

Tonight, Isabella carried herself differently.

She seemed more composed, more self-possessed.

"What a performance," Ethan muttered under his breath, annoyance warring with reluctant admiration.

Ignoring him, Isabella moved confidently toward the exit, pausing as she waited for the driver.

Sophia descended the stairs then, an elegant handbag swinging from her arm, every movement fluid and practiced.

"Ethan, wait for me," she called sweetly, linking her arm through his as they walked.

Isabella's expression tightened. She had no interest in watching their flirtatious display during the drive.

More importantly, she needed an opportunity to slip away.

"This car won't do," she stated firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Ethan chuckled dismissively, assuming she was being difficult. "Bring another car," he commanded the driver, his tone dripping with condescension.

A stretched limousine soon pulled up to the entrance. Isabella pressed her lips together.

Ethan quietly enjoyed her visible frustration.

"Well? Get in," he said impatiently.

Silently, Isabella entered the vehicle and shut the door. She watched the city blur past, meticulously planning her next move.

She had to devise a flawless escape before they reached their destination.

Sophia stayed close to Ethan, her voice sugary sweet. "Ethan, these leather seats are divine. They must be imported from Italy, right?"

Her fingers brushed against his hand, her tone deliberately suggestive.

Across from them, Isabella remained expressionless, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. She seemed completely detached from her surroundings.

Sophia smirked at Isabella's apparent indifference. "Ethan, look. Isabella isn't even paying attention."

Occasionally, Ethan's eyes drifted toward his wife.

Her profound silence tonight felt unsettling, putting him on edge.

The limousine grew quiet, interrupted only by Sophia's occasional laughter.

Eventually, they arrived at The Grand Plaza Hotel's lavish entrance.

The driveway glittered under bright lights, crowded with well-dressed guests. As they exited the vehicle, Sophia naturally tried to take Ethan's arm, but he smoothly avoided her.

Instead, he approached Isabella, taking her slightly cold hand in his. When she instinctively tried to pull away, Ethan tightened his grip and whispered, "Remember your role."