Isabella’s patience had run out.

She pushed past Sophia without a second glance.

“Isabella!”

Sophia’s voice trembled with panic and urgency.

It made Isabella freeze mid-step, though she didn’t turn around.

“You—you’re pregnant?” Sophia stammered, disbelief and fear sharp in her tone.

A cold dread washed over Isabella.

Her heart dropped like a stone.

Under Sophia’s icy stare, a shiver raced down her spine.

She stood rigid, every muscle tense.

“What’s it to you?” she shot back, voice defensive and sharp.

Isabella’s arms instinctively wrapped around her stomach.

A protective move Sophia didn’t miss.

“Why haven’t you told Ethan?” Sophia snapped.

Her fingers closed around Isabella’s wrist, nails digging deep.

“Planning to have his child in secret? Use it to trap him later?”

Pure contempt laced every word.

Isabella winced at the sharp pain and yanked her arm free.

Disgust was clear on her face.

“You think I’m as desperate as you? Clinging to him with lies?”

She shuddered, revolted by the contact.

Sophia steadied herself, sneering.

“Pathetic. You think a baby will make him stay? If he doesn’t care about you, why would he care about that child?”

Her voice turned colder.

“Dreaming this will raise your status? Men like Ethan can have countless heirs.”

Isabella laughed mockingly.

“Then I wish you luck bearing his child soon!”

With one last dismissive look, she turned and walked away.

All she wanted was that letter.

To end this nightmare once and for all.

Sophia watched, chest burning with rage as Isabella disappeared.

The sting of those parting words lingered like a slap.

Ethan hadn’t even touched her.

Not once.

What would happen if he found out about the baby?

The thought made her shiver.

She refused to accept that outcome.

Deep down, Sophia knew Ethan still had feelings for Isabella.

His fleeting glances, his unconscious gestures—they spoke volumes.

No.

This child could not be allowed to exist.

It had to be dealt with.

Her resolve hardened.

She sprinted after Isabella, decision clear with every step.

Panicked, she scanned the area.

Just in time to see a self-driving car pull away from the curb.

Isabella’s distant, icy voice floated back.

“Take me to Rosewood Manor.”

Rosewood Manor.

Of course.

That was where Eleanor, Isabella’s grandmother, lived.

A memory surfaced—a hushed conversation she’d overheard between Isabella and Eleanor.