She hung up and faced Ethan. “Why did you take Sophie away?”

A chilling suspicion shot through her mind—had Ethan discovered the real culprit behind everything?

Did he remove Sophie to shield someone else? Who would he go to such lengths to protect?

Isabella’s eyes locked onto Ethan’s face. Sophia Reed was the only one who had ever inspired that kind of fierce protectiveness in him. Who else could it possibly be? A bitter smile touched Isabella’s lips, her gaze turning icy.

“Mr. Blackwood,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What urgent matter brings you here tonight? Are you here to stop me from uncovering a truth that might humiliate your lover? Or perhaps your precious fiancée?”

Ethan’s brow furrowed. He started to speak, but Isabella cut him off sharply.

“I’m very busy. You can see yourself out,” she stated flatly, gesturing toward the door.

A dark shadow crossed Ethan’s features. He studied her, a mix of curiosity and surprise in his eyes. She seemed different tonight. His gaze drifted past her, toward the bedroom.

“That child earlier…” His voice was quiet, laced with confusion.

Isabella’s heart hammered against her ribs. She instinctively shifted to block the bedroom doorway.

“That is none of your business.”

“Are you keeping secrets from me?” Ethan’s tone was deceptively soft, but held a sharp edge.

Her pulse raced, but she quickly steadied herself. The call with Liam must have made him suspicious.

Isabella met his gaze head-on. “Mr. Blackwood, our marriage is over. You have no right to interfere in my personal life anymore.”

Ethan’s expression darkened further.

“I never agreed to our divorce, Isabella.”

A wave of profound sadness washed over her. He was the one who had pushed for it. Now he was denying it? The sheer absurdity cut deep.

Ethan watched her closely, searching for any crack in her composure. He was about to say more, his anger simmering, when a sudden knock at the door interrupted them.

The sound shattered the heavy tension between them.

Both Isabella and Ethan turned toward the door.

“Who is it?” Isabella called out.

“Isabella, it’s me, Lucas,” a gentle voice replied from the other side.

Isabella moved to open the door. As her hand reached for the handle, Ethan’s strong fingers closed around her wrist, squeezing tightly. She winced at the pressure, looking down at his grip.

Despair clenched her heart. What was he trying to do?

“Let me go,” she demanded sharply.

Silently, Ethan held her with his intense gaze, his grip unyielding.

A heavy silence filled the hallway, as if time itself had frozen.

From outside, Lucas’s concerned voice came again. “Isabella? Is everything alright?”

Her heart sank even deeper. She didn’t want anyone to witness this messy, tangled scene with Ethan.

“Ethan, let go of my hand. Now!”

“Mommy?” A sleepy murmur came from the bedroom.

A small figure appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “Mommy, why can’t Daddy come in?”