“Devastated?” Ethan’s voice dripped with cold mockery. “She won’t be devastated. In fact, I hope it shatters her completely.”

Benjamin immediately recognized the dangerous edge in Ethan’s tone. Something had pushed him past his limits.

He tried to reason with him. “Mr. Blackwood, please… take a moment to think this through.”

“I’m perfectly calm,” Ethan insisted, though his breathing was heavy with suppressed rage. “Do as I say. Bring Sophia to Hawthorne Residence now, or you’re fired.”

The line went dead. Ethan drained his glass in one swift motion.

Benjamin sighed deeply after hearing the disconnect tone.

Things were spiraling out of control. Ethan was determined to provoke a confrontation. Benjamin dreaded the coming storm but felt helpless against a direct order.

Ethan poured another drink, seeking numbness, but the turmoil inside only grew louder.

Isabella’s defiant eyes and her sharp, final words haunted him. Each memory felt like a fresh cut.

He tugged at his tie irritably, his chest tight with each breath.

Why was he so angry? He was the one who asked for the separation. He was the one who strayed. So why did her admission of fallen love feel like a betrayal?

A treacherous thought whispered—was it possible he still cared?

He shut it down instantly.

He shook his head, forcing the idea away.

When Benjamin arrived at Hawthorne Residence with Sophia, he found Ethan heavily drunk—slumped on the study sofa, his eyes barely open.

“Mr. Blackwood?” Benjamin called out cautiously.

He moved to help Ethan to his bedroom, but a delicate hand stopped him. “I’ll handle it,” Sophia said softly.

Benjamin offered a tight smile. “Mr. Blackwood is quite heavy. Let me assist.”

It was a weak excuse. Truthfully, Benjamin wanted to avoid being near a drunk Ethan at all costs.

It wasn’t that he preferred Isabella over Sophia. His loyalty was to Ethan alone.

As he supported Ethan, the weight was immense. The strong scent of alcohol mixed with Ethan’s signature cologne made his head spin.

Ethan groaned, his forehead furrowed. Even unconscious, he couldn’t escape his distress.

Sophia followed silently behind them, her expression a mix of triumph and unease.

“Benjamin, are you sure you can manage that?” Sophia’s voice held a subtle taunt that grated on his nerves.

Sweat beaded on his temple. “I’m fine, Miss Reed.” Internally, he cursed his luck. This wasn’t assisting—it was pure struggle, under Sophia’s piercing gaze.

“Good,” she murmured, her eyes cold and assessing.

A chill ran down Benjamin’s spine. He just wanted to leave Ethan in bed and escape.

He knew Ethan cared for Isabella—even if the man refused to admit it.

As a loyal assistant, his duty was to protect Ethan, especially in this vulnerable state.