Isabella took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart.

She knelt down, her hand gently stroking Liam's hair.

"You did nothing wrong, sweetheart," she whispered, though her voice trembled slightly.

She avoided meeting his curious gaze, not wanting him to see her panic.

What had Ethan heard? Would he come over now? The possibility of him discovering Liam made her stomach clench.

"Let's have dinner," she said, guiding him toward the table.

The food steamed invitingly, but Isabella barely tasted anything as she forced a smile for Liam's sake.

At Hawthorne Residence, Ethan stared at his darkened phone screen.

His expression turned grim.

He was certain he'd heard a child's voice. He was about to leave for Isabella's apartment when the door opened quietly.

Victoria entered the room.

She wore an elegant but simple outfit, her movements graceful though her eyes held worry.

"Ethan, why are you still working so late?" she asked, her tone concerned.

He glanced up briefly, his voice cold. "I need to go out."

Victoria sat across from him with a sigh. "Sophia called earlier today."

A flicker of irritation crossed Ethan's face. Noticing his reaction, Victoria continued earnestly, "She has waited long enough. Perhaps it's time to consider marriage. I'm not getting any younger, and I'd like to see my grandchildren."

Ethan's jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Stay out of my personal life," he said sharply.

He left without another word, his tall figure disappearing through the doorway. Victoria remained in the study, her expression lonely.

Later that evening, Liam fell asleep in Isabella's arms after dinner, his breathing deep and even.

She gently carried him to his bed, tucking the blankets around him snugly.

Just as she finished, a knock sounded at the door.

Her phone rang simultaneously—Oliver was calling.

She moved to the door and peered through the peephole, her brows furrowing.

Ethan stood outside.

She answered the call while opening the door.

Ethan stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit that emphasized his tall frame.

The dim porch light cast shadows across his sharp features, highlighting his severe handsomeness. His deep eyes held a chilling intensity.

"Why are you here so late?" Isabella asked.

Without a word, Ethan stepped inside, his gaze briefly meeting hers.

Isabella wore comfortable home clothes, her hair loose around her shoulders, making her look softer than usual.

Meanwhile, Oliver's anxious voice came through the phone. "Miss Scott, the person who took Sophie Turner is Benjamin Clark."

Benjamin Clark—Ethan's most trusted assistant.

Isabella's grip on the phone tightened.

So Ethan was involved. But what was his motive?

A cold dread washed over her.