Chapter 173

Sophia stared blankly at Isabella. She didn’t speak, her gaze distant and hollow, as if she had lost all sense of reality.

Isabella smirked, relishing the moment. She wanted to push Sophia further into despair. "After what you did yesterday—humiliating yourself in front of the entire elite circle at the Blackwood estate, openly defying Ethan, smashing your own phone, and declaring you’d never return to Harborview City—do you really think you can just waltz back into his life now?"

She leaned in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You swore an oath, Sophia. If you dare show your face to Ethan today, what do you think he’ll do? With his temper, he’ll probably kick you out. No, wait—he’ll aim for your stomach."

A cruel laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, how perfect would that be?"

The more Isabella thought about it, the more brilliant the plan seemed.

Her mother, Elizabeth, had devised this strategy, and even her father, Benjamin, had been kept in the dark.

Elizabeth had whispered to her, "If you want to destroy Sophia completely, you must strike where it hurts most. Tell her the truth—that the child she’s carrying is Ethan’s."

Isabella had been stunned at first. "But if she knows, she’ll run straight to Ethan! Won’t that ruin everything?"

Elizabeth had only smiled. "That’s exactly what we want. The louder she makes a scene, the more Ethan will despise her. And if she dares to disrupt your wedding? Even if Ethan doesn’t react, old Mr. Blackwood will. His cane will make sure that child never sees the light of day."

Isabella shivered with delight at the memory. Her mother was truly a mastermind.

And now, watching Sophia sit there, pale and lifeless, Isabella felt a flicker of disappointment. She had expected hysterics, screams—anything but this numb silence.

Boring.

She leaned forward again, eager to twist the knife deeper. "Oh, Sophia, there’s one more thing you should know—"

Her phone rang, cutting her off.

Irritated, she snatched it up. "What?"

Benjamin’s furious voice crackled through the line. "Isabella! Today is your wedding day! Where the hell are you? The Blackwoods are traditional—they won’t tolerate tardiness. Get your ass back here now!"

She rolled her eyes. "Relax, Dad. I’m just finishing my makeup. I’ll be there soon."

Hanging up, she turned back to Sophia—only to find the seat empty.

Sophia was already stumbling out of the café like a ghost.

Isabella shot to her feet, ready to stop her—then noticed the jewelry box still on the table. She flipped it open, expecting to see the bracelet inside.

Nothing.

Sophia had tricked her.

With a snarl, Isabella slammed the box down. A waiter hurried over. "Miss, please don’t cause a scene—"

She tossed a wad of cash onto the table. "Shut up and take it."

As she stormed out, the waiter muttered under her breath, "No wonder no man wants you."

Isabella whirled around, eyes blazing. "You pathetic little nobody. Do you know who I’m marrying today? Ethan Blackwood—the most powerful man in Harborview City. Me. His wife. Let all the women in this city choke on their envy!"

She left in a whirl of fury, barely registering the waiter’s hissed curse behind her. "I hope your wedding burns to the ground."

Outside, she scanned the streets. Sophia couldn’t have gone far.

Had she driven off? Crashed? Killed herself?

What a waste.

Isabella still had one last secret to reveal.

But time was running out. She had a wedding to attend.

With a frustrated growl, she climbed into her sports car and sped off.

Meanwhile, Sophia wandered through the alleyways, her mind reeling.

The child inside her—Ethan’s.

All this time, the Thorntons had been hunting her down, terrified she’d expose their lies.

Now she understood why Ethan, despite his obvious disdain for Isabella, had agreed to marry her.

He thought Isabella was the one who had saved him that night.

The one carrying his child.

Sophia’s breath hitched as memories flooded back—the first time she’d heard Ethan’s voice after prison, how it had sent shivers down her spine, so eerily familiar.

Later, she’d dismissed it. Ethan’s voice was cold, commanding—nothing like the rough, sensual whisper of that night.

But now she knew.

They were the same man.

And when she’d nearly collided with him in his home, wrapped in nothing but a robe, that electric jolt of recognition hadn’t been her imagination.

It had been the truth.