Isabella’s mind spun.

She pushed against him, but he didn’t budge.

His closeness was suffocating.

It stole her breath and clouded her thoughts.

Slowly, her struggles faded.

She shut her eyes and gave in to the force of his hold.

After what felt like an eternity, Ethan finally released her.

His eyes burned into hers. His breathing was heavy.

Her lips tingled. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Confusion widened her gaze.

“Ethan…” she began.

He cut her off.

“Why haven’t you asked?” His voice was a low, rough murmur.

Isabella hesitated, thrown by the question.

“Zoe.”

His tone was gravelly, layered with something hidden—a tightly leashed emotion, raw and undeniable.

She snapped back to the present, shoving down the storm inside. “Mr. Blackwood, what does your involvement with Miss Tremblay have to do with me?”

Her words were ice-cold, detached.

But beneath them, she clung to her composure, holding the fraying edges of her control. Zoe. Or any other woman. It was irrelevant to her.

Ethan’s expression darkened. This wasn’t the reaction he’d anticipated. He’d prepared for her anger, her accusations, the fiery spark he remembered from three years ago.

His jaw clenched as he searched her face, looking for any crack in her calm mask. There was none.

“Isabella.” Her name left his lips, softer this time. “Do you truly not care?”

“Care?” She tilted her head, a hint of mockery touching her lips. “Why would I?” Her gaze locked with his, unflinching. “Should I concern myself with your passing distractions, Mr. Blackwood?” Her voice was smooth velvet, but her words cut like glass. “Or your feelings?”

Ethan’s breath caught for a split second—just enough for her to see.

Before he could reply, a knock sounded at the door.

“Mr. Blackwood, the charity auction is starting soon. Will you and Mrs. Blackwood be taking your seats?” The manager’s voice, carefully respectful, filtered through the door.

Isabella seized the interruption like a lifeline.

She moved past Ethan without a second thought, pulling the door open with urgency. “We’re on our way,” she answered smoothly.

Ethan stayed where he was for a moment, watching her slip away like water through his fingers.

A dull ache settled deep in his chest—a weight he couldn’t name.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair before following her out.

As they entered the grand banquet hall, the atmosphere shifted.

All eyes turned toward them. Conversations hushed under the weight of their presence.

Across the room, Olivia lounged in her seat, swirling her champagne with a knowing smile. Her gaze flickered between them, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Well, now things were getting interesting.

Meanwhile, Zoe sat stiffly, her nails digging into her palms.

She had just discovered that Isabella was Ethan’s wife.

For three years, women had circled Ethan. Some stayed briefly, most were forgotten. But never—never—had Zoe heard even a whisper of a marriage.

The elegantly dressed crowd buzzed with excitement as bids were placed one after another.