The butler’s soft voice cut through her heavy thoughts.

“Pardon me, Mrs. Blackwood.”

Isabella drew a slow breath, pulling herself together before looking up.

“Yes?”

He approached, holding a pristine phone box.

“Mr. Blackwood instructed me to give you this.”

He offered it to her respectfully.

She hesitated briefly, her gaze unreadable.

She accepted the box, her hands slightly unsteady.

“Mr. Blackwood said your previous phone was damaged. This is a replacement.”

She opened the box mechanically.

Inside was the newest model, exactly like her old one.

She powered it on.

Her heart dropped.

The screen illuminated, showing only one contact.

Ethan.

A crushing wave of despair washed over her, stealing her breath.

The atmosphere was entirely different elsewhere.

“I’ve got something!” Martin announced, his voice buzzing with triumph and a need for validation.

Eleanor drummed her nails impatiently on the table.

“What is it, Martin? Spit it out!”

He shoved a stack of glossy photographs toward her.

They clearly showed Isabella entering and leaving the Hawthorne Residence.

“Mrs. Grant, Isabella has been staying at the Hawthorne Residence for the past several days.”

Eleanor flipped through the images one by one.

Her face twisted into a deeper scowl with each photo.

She suddenly slammed the stack down. The sound echoed like a shot.

“Hawthorne Residence! That’s Ethan’s private property.”

“Yes, Mrs. Grant,” Martin replied cautiously, watching her stormy expression. He braced for impact.

“Well…”

Eleanor’s hand crashed onto the table with a thunderous slap.

Her cheeks flushed with fury.

“Ethan is targeting the Grant family. Is it because of that woman?”

She shot up from her chair without waiting for a reply.

She paced the room erratically, like a trapped animal.

“But… isn’t Sophia his true love?” Martin ventured hesitantly, breaking the tense silence.

His words made her stop mid-stride.

Her expression shifted to pure contempt.

“Sophia… Could Isabella be playing with both Ethan’s and Lucas’s affections? Who is this woman, really?”

She spun around, her gaze sharp and accusing as she locked eyes with him.

“Don’t stop until you’ve uncovered everything about Isabella,” she demanded, her voice sharp and unwavering.

“Understood,” Martin whispered, exiting quickly.

Shortly after Martin left, Lucas hurried down the stairs.

Eleanor, now seated and sipping her coffee, watched him closely.

Her voice was deceptively calm.

“Heading out, Lucas?”

She had just learned Isabella was at the Hawthorne Residence.