Isabella gave a slow nod. “Yes, I remember that conversation.” She had brushed it off as a passing thought back then, not dwelling on it further.

“My days are numbered,” Arthur stated, his tone heavy as his grip tightened around the cane. “Ethan tends to act impulsively. You’ve grown, Isabella. The shares that once belonged to Frederick were always meant to be yours.”

The weight of his words left her speechless, her mind reeling.

Arthur turned to Charles. “Charles, arrange a meeting with our legal advisors. Begin drafting the documents. Ensure complete discretion.”

“Understood, Mr. Blackwood,” Charles replied with a respectful nod.

“I will notify you once everything is finalized,” Arthur added, his eyes gleaming with hope as he looked at Isabella.

Numbly, she nodded, still processing the revelation.

After a long silence, she found her voice, though it trembled. “Arthur, have you learned anything about my parents’ whereabouts?”

He shook his head. “I’ve sent out search teams, but there’s been no news.” He released a weary sigh.

Exhausted, he said, “I must rest now, Isabella. Please, spend some time with your grandfather. I’ll take my leave.”

Isabella remained in the memorial hall for what felt like hours before finally forcing herself back to the living room. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, each one crashing into the next.

As she reached the center of the room, a figure blocked her path—Victoria.

Arms crossed, her sharp gaze sliced through Isabella like a knife. “What did Arthur want with you in the memorial hall?”

Isabella had no desire to engage and attempted to step around her. But before she could move past, Victoria’s hand clamped down on her arm with surprising force.

“Is this how you were raised?” Victoria sneered, her grip tightening. “I asked you a question.”

Pain shot through Isabella’s arm, and she yanked herself free with a sharp tug. “What Arthur and I discuss is private.”

Victoria’s face contorted with rage, her hand shaking as she pointed at Isabella, words failing her. “Don’t think Arthur’s favor gives you the right to do as you please!”

Victoria spat, her voice dripping with scorn. “What makes you think you belong in the Blackwood family? Do you actually believe you deserve Ethan?”

Isabella met her glare with unsettling calm, her eyes cold and unreadable. “There is nothing between Ethan and me,” she stated, her voice steady. “And there never will be.”

At that moment, Ethan descended the staircase, his usual cool detachment vanishing the instant he caught Isabella’s words. His expression darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Trailing just behind him was Sophia, her soft yellow dress flowing effortlessly around her as she watched the scene unfold with an amused smirk.

Unbothered by the mounting tension, Isabella strode toward the front door without a backward glance.

Ethan’s gaze followed her retreating figure, his jaw tightening, his hands curling into fists.