Her phone buzzed sharply, cutting through the frantic rhythm of her cleaning.

Ethan was calling.

Isabella’s breath hitched. Her thumb hovered over the screen, torn.

She answered.

His voice was cold steel. "Where are you, Isabella? Why aren't you home? Don't tell me you're stirring up more drama."

"Drama?" A bitter laugh escaped her. "We're getting a divorce, Ethan. My location is no longer your business."

"Listen to me—"

"No, you listen," she interrupted, her voice cool and firm. "I've accepted the divorce. I'm not clinging to you. Please stop bothering me, Mr. Blackwood."

She ended the call.

The silence felt like a victory.

On the other end, Ethan’s face darkened with rage. How dare she hang up on him!

In the following days, Isabella became an expert at evasion.

It was almost impressive, considering they both worked at Blackwood Enterprises. Their paths never crossed.

She buried herself in work, determined to finish her current project. Once it was done, she would finalize the divorce, resign, and leave everything behind.

Saturday morning arrived brisk and clear.

Isabella carried a box of her grandmother’s favorite pastries, heading toward the familiar old apartment building.

Eleanor Vance, a dedicated elementary school teacher for decades, still lived in the modest building provided by the school.

As Isabella navigated the leaf-strewn path from the school grounds, a surprised voice called out.

"Isabella? What are you doing here?"

She turned to find Lucas Grant, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"My grandmother lives here," she explained, equally surprised. "What about you?"

His eyes widened. "Really? I've never seen you around. Noa— I mean, I went to school here as a kid." He stumbled, waving a folder. "I'm here for some school expansion plans."

Isabella nodded in understanding. "I only visited a couple times a year as a child. We must have just missed each other."

She prepared to say goodbye, but then Eleanor emerged from the building.

Her grandmother’s face lit up with a bright smile, her eyes immediately landing on Lucas.

She approached him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Young man, what's your name?"

Lucas looked slightly bewildered by her enthusiastic greeting. "I'm Lucas Grant. You must be Isabella's grandmother. It's a pleasure to meet you."

His charm made Eleanor's smile widen.

Isabella lingered, a sense of dread creeping in.

"No, Grandma, he's not—" she started, tugging at Eleanor's sleeve.

Eleanor shot her a teasing look and chuckled. "What do you mean, 'no'? You brought him here, and now you're getting shy?"

Confusion flickered across Lucas's face.

It took him a moment to understand.