“Well, this is…” Benjamin hesitated, clearly uneasy. “Mrs. Blackwood, I don’t have the authority to decide that. Mr. Blackwood’s consent is necessary.”

A cold dread settled deep in Isabella's chest, a heavy weight that made it hard to breathe.

She truly had no other options left.

"I understand," she whispered, the words barely audible, thick with a disappointment she could no longer hide.

"Mrs. Blackwood—" Benjamin started, but Isabella cut him off sharply.

"Enough," she stated, her tone final, ending the discussion.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Silent tears traced paths down her cheeks.

The once beautiful Hawthorne Residence now felt like a luxurious cage, a prison she desperately needed to escape.

She had to stop hoping.

Ethan's heart wasn't hers to keep. Clinging to a hollow marriage was pointless.

Leaving with Eleanor and Liam to build their own life, away from this suffocating atmosphere, was what she truly desired.

Benjamin stared at his phone, the screen now dark. His brows were furrowed with concern. The tone of Isabella's voice had left him deeply unsettled; he understood the gravity of the situation completely.

Without delay, he composed a message to Ethan, relaying the news.

"Mr. Blackwood, Mrs. Blackwood just called. She stated she has no intention of returning to Hawthorne Residence. She plans to move into her rented apartment with her grandmother and son."

He hit send, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. He knew Ethan's temperament, especially concerning Isabella.

He sighed quietly, hoping—praying—that Ethan would recognize Isabella's pain and not let the situation deteriorate further.

In his dimly lit study, Ethan was buried in paperwork, his expression severe, his focus intense.

Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and saw Benjamin's message.

As he read the words, his pupils constricted sharply. The documents in his hand slipped from his grasp, scattering across the floor with a sharp, rustling sound.

"She refuses to come back?" he muttered under his breath, disbelief coloring his low tone.

He shot to his feet, pacing the room in agitation. Flashes of Isabella's face tormented his mind.

"Damn it!" His fist slammed onto the solid wood of his desk, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet room.

He grabbed his phone, his thumb hovering over Isabella's number—but he hesitated.

Instead, he sank back into his leather chair, dragging a hand down his face. He exhaled a long, weary breath.

What was he supposed to do now?

Was he really going to lose her?

Inside his study, Ethan tossed his phone onto the desk in sheer irritation. The screen still displayed Benjamin's message.

Isabella wanted to leave. She wanted to take Eleanor and Liam with her. She wanted to vanish from his life for good.

He tugged at his tie, a frustrated huff escaping his lips. He walked to the expansive floor-to-ceiling window that offered a panoramic view of the glittering city below.

The lights from the buildings and streets looked bright and inviting, but to Ethan, they only emphasized his profound isolation.

"How," he muttered, the disbelief clear in his voice, "how can she just leave like this?"

His mind filled with images of Isabella's gentle smile and the sound of Liam's innocent laughter. A dull, persistent ache began to spread through his chest.

He couldn't lose them. He wouldn't.

The thought of Liam suddenly gave Ethan an idea. Perhaps he should start with the little boy.

Ethan strode back to his desk and snatched up his phone to call Henry.