The call fell into silence.

After a long pause, Lucas’s voice returned, quiet and hesitant. “Are you sure about this?”

Isabella’s reply was firm and immediate. “Completely.”

A heavy sigh traveled through the line. “What do you need me to do?”

She hesitated, her features tight with concentration. “I’m at Hawthorne Residence. Can you arrange a pickup tonight? I’ll be going out the window.”

“Please, reconsider this!” Lucas urged, his voice thick with worry.

“It’s only the second floor. I won’t die from the fall,” Isabella stated, her resolve clear. “I have to leave. For my future. For my child’s future.”

Sophia stood frozen at the door, her expression unreadable.

Her original intention had been to drag Isabella downstairs. To unnerve her. To watch her squirm.

Instead, she had overheard plans of an international escape.

A cold, satisfied smile spread across Sophia’s face.

This was better than she could have hoped for.

Naturally, she decided, she would “help” Isabella with her plans. Silently, she retreated from the door, her lips curved in a frosty smirk.

Ethan returned to Hawthorne Residence shortly after.

His brow furrowed at the sight of his mother, Victoria.

Sophia emerged from the kitchen carrying plates, her smile perfectly pleasant as she called everyone to dinner.

“Dinner is ready, Ethan,” she said, her tone smooth and even, betraying nothing.

Ethan’s gaze flicked toward the staircase. “Why isn’t she down?”

Victoria’s eyebrow shot up, her voice dripping with irritation. “Why is that woman still here? I thought you were divorcing her?”

Sophia moved to placate the situation. “Isabella isn’t feeling well today. I’ll go check on her.”

“Don’t,” Ethan said.

He took the stairs himself.

He adjusted his tie as he approached Isabella’s door, surprised to find it locked.

Annoyance flared within him.

He knocked, impatience edging his tone. “Isabella. Open the door.”

Isabella’s heart plummeted. She quickly hid her phone, drew a sharp breath, and opened the door.

She faced Ethan with an icy demeanor. “What do you want?” Her tone was detached, as if speaking to a stranger.

Ethan’s irritation grew at her coldness.

“Come down for dinner,” he demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Isabella let out a soft, derisive laugh. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your family time.”

She paused, her stomach churning. A wave of revulsion threatened to break her composure.

“Frankly, the sight of all of you makes me sick,” she continued.

Ethan’s expression darkened.

This was a new, sharp bitterness in her voice he hadn't heard before.

Had Sophia said something to his mother? He opened his mouth to question her, but the door slammed shut in his face. The lock clicked into place, firm and final.