Ethan leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her.

“What is it?”

“For helping me at the Starlight Gala,” Isabella said quietly, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

That evening, after Ethan had handled the difficult man from Berkshire Hathaway, he’d been pulled away to attend to other matters.

They had both been so occupied since then that she hadn’t found the right moment to thank him—until now.

“And… for the Starlight Stone,” she added, her voice dropping even lower. “I wanted to thank you for that, too.”

The Starlight Stone was essential to restoring the Dewy Hibiscus collection. Without Ethan’s involvement, the pieces might have been damaged beyond repair.

A shadow of emotion flickered in Ethan’s eyes, but it vanished almost instantly.

“That stone was always yours.”

He looked down and returned to his paperwork, clearly unwilling to discuss it further.

The study fell silent, save for the soft rustle of turning pages. The atmosphere grew thick and strained.

Isabella gripped her dress so tightly her knuckles turned white.

She stood there for what felt like an eternity before finally murmuring, “I should go.” Her words were barely audible.

She turned and walked toward the door. The sharp click of her heels against the wooden floor echoed in the heavy silence.

Only when the sound of her footsteps had completely faded did Ethan set the documents aside. He ran a hand over his face and let out a quiet sigh as he stared at the closed door.

Then he picked up his phone and dialed.

“Benjamin, I need you to take care of something.”

“Of course, Mr. Blackwood,” a calm voice replied on the other end.

“Clear all the online rumors about Isabella. And the ones about her and Lucas. I want everything gone by tomorrow.”

“Sir,” Benjamin began, sounding hesitant. “Regarding Mr. Grant—”

“Don’t worry about him,” Ethan cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want this cleaned up completely. No traces left behind.”

“Understood,” Benjamin replied promptly.

Ethan ended the call and tossed his phone onto the desk. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Meanwhile, Sophia hurled a wine glass into the fireplace. Crimson liquid splattered across the room.

“That wretched Olivia! She put our design on a dog! She’s mocking me!”

The design director stood at a safe distance, not daring to make a sound.

“They’re all incompetent! Every last one of them!” Sophia’s voice was shrill and cutting. The director flinched. “Bring me the designer responsible for that Samoyed’s necklace! Now!”

The design director hurried out to deliver the command.

Soon, a young designer entered the room. He was trembling, his face pale and lips quivering.

“Miss Reed—” His greeting was cut short by a sharp slap.