Isabella bit her lip, visibly distressed, holding back her words.

Ethan bristled at the confrontation. He hated feeling cornered, especially by Arthur.

“Then donate your shares,” he snapped, pulling Sophia’s arm to leave.

“What did you just say, you ungrateful—” Arthur’s voice shook with fury. His body trembled as he fought for composure. Victoria quickly stepped in, guiding him into the quiet study.

Once inside, she spoke softly, her tone weary. “Don’t force him. His heart was never mine to begin with.”

Arthur sighed heavily, a mix of sorrow and admiration. “It’s truly Ethan’s loss, not yours.”

He knew he couldn’t control the younger generation’s lives, no matter how much he wanted to.

It pained him to see Isabella treated this way.

With a resigned air, he pulled a document from his drawer.

“Isabella, please sign this.”

The moment she saw the word “shares,” a sharp tension gripped her head.

She firmly pushed the document back. “This isn’t mine to take. I married Ethan knowing he loved someone else. Now that she’s back, it’s time to end our marriage.”

Arthur looked at her solemnly. “Isabella, do you regret marrying Ethan?”

The direct question caught her off guard. She paused, then offered a bitter smile. “No, I don’t regret it.”

Even through the searing pain, she could never regret loving him.

But that love had become too heavy, threatening to crush her.

She refused to sign.

Seeing he couldn’t persuade her, Arthur handed her a card instead. As she stood to leave, he told her she didn’t have to keep suffering if it became unbearable.

He cared for her like a granddaughter, even if it meant standing against his own grandson.

Leaving Blackwood Estate, Isabella didn’t return to the home she still shared with Ethan.

She found solace in a modest serviced apartment run by a hotel.

It had a bedroom and living room, fully furnished, offering affordable solitude.

She grew to cherish this cozy sanctuary.

Most importantly, it was free from Ethan’s presence and the painful memories that haunted her.

After a refreshing shower, Isabella scrolled through her contacts, feeling helpless.

She had no one to pretend to be her boyfriend.

What excuse could she give Eleanor for showing up alone? Frustration washed over her, and she ran her fingers agitatedly through her hair.

She surrendered to whatever came next. If pressed, she would simply tell Eleanor the truth.

With her mind somewhat settled, she busied herself tidying the space.

Thankfully, the little one inside her was cooperative today, causing no discomfort.