"Good evening, Mrs. Blackwood," the staff member greeted with deference. "This bead necklace was personally consigned by our proprietor."

"Your proprietor?" Isabella pressed. "Might I obtain their contact details? I wish to speak with them directly."

The staff member produced a business card from his jacket. "This bears our proprietor's private line. You may contact him at your convenience."

Isabella accepted the card, offered brief thanks, and immediately dialed the number.

"Hello, who is—"

"Isabella Scott," she stated clearly. "I'm calling regarding the provenance of the bead necklace auctioned today."

A brief silence preceded a deep male voice. "I know who you are, Mrs. Blackwood. This matter is best discussed face-to-face."

"Agreed," Isabella responded without hesitation. "Name the time and place."

The man provided an address and time, which Isabella committed to memory. After ending the call, she noted her quickened pulse—a telltale sign of her anticipation.

She secured the business card inside her purse.

As she turned to leave the auction house, a sharp voice cut through the air. "Well, if it isn't the celebrated designer, Isabella?"

Isabella halted, instantly recognizing the voice.

It was Zoe.

She turned slowly, her gaze steady and unwavering.

"Did you require something?" Her tone was frosty, conveying complete disinterest.

Zoe stepped closer with a contemptuous smirk, her eyes raking over Isabella provocatively. "You think you've ascended in the world now that you're married to Ethan? Let me remind you, you're merely a—"

"Miss Tremblay," Isabella interrupted firmly. "You seem to be laboring under a misapprehension. My identity is irrelevant. The fact is, you're obstructing my path."

Zoe, startled by the assertive rebuttal, flushed with anger. "What are you implying? Who do you imagine you are? Ethan's wife? Ha! Do you genuinely believe he loves you? He's merely using you.

Do you truly think you can ever replace Sophia in Ethan's heart?"

Isabella's gaze turned glacial as her grip tightened on her bag.

"The dynamics between Ethan and myself are not your concern, just as Sophia's affairs are hers alone," she declared with resolve.

"Maintain the charade!" Zoe sneered. "You imagine that strand of beads holds significance? It's utterly worthless! You'll never possess what Sophia does!"

A shadow flickered in Isabella's eyes, yet her lips curved into a derisive smile.

"Worthless? Miss Tremblay, your intimate knowledge of Sophia's possessions is... curious. It's almost as if..." She paused deliberately, her eyes locking onto Zoe's, which had stiffened. After a weighted moment, she concluded, "You're acting as Sophia's mouthpiece."

Color flooded Zoe's cheeks before draining away, as though Isabella's words had struck a nerve.

"That's absurd! I have no connection to Sophia!"

"Truly?" Isabella raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You've invoked her name repeatedly since this conversation began. Are you attempting to defend her honor, or are you pursuing Ethan yourself?" She let the implication hang in the air, giving Zoe a meaningful look before moving to step past her.

Zoe, visibly shaken by the insinuation that touched upon a hidden secret, reacted vehemently.

"Wait!" She reached out, grasping Isabella's arm. "What gives you the right to make such accusations?"

Isabella wrenched her arm free, her expression turning steely. "Miss Tremblay, it is not for you to determine my rights. But your persistent provocations—do you genuinely believe they will remain unanswered?"