Chapter 89

The call ended abruptly with Ethan Blackwood's icy response. His piercing gaze softened slightly as it landed on Isabella Thornton. "You're carrying my child," he stated, his voice low but firm. "I won't let you leave."

Isabella shook her head, her resolve unshaken. "No. We aren't married yet, and I refuse to live under your roof until we are. I won't be that kind of woman—not for myself, and certainly not for my child. I will raise this baby with dignity, but I won't compromise my principles."

Her words struck him. There was a newfound strength in her, a confidence he hadn’t seen before.

Ethan exhaled sharply before turning to Benjamin and Elizabeth Thornton. "Take care of her," he commanded. "In one month, she will be my wife. And our child will be the heir to Blackwood Enterprises."

Benjamin nodded eagerly. "Of course, Mr. Blackwood! We’ll make sure she’s well taken care of. The baby is our grandchild too—we’d never harm her!"

Elizabeth cut in sharply. "Enough talking."

Benjamin quickly backtracked. "Right, right. We’ll take her home now. You… go handle your business."

Ethan gave a curt nod. "I’ll see her soon." Without another word, he turned and strode away, his assistant Nathan Carter trailing silently behind.

The car ride was tense. Nathan knew better than to speak—his boss’s mood was volatile. He could tell Ethan despised Isabella, yet fate had bound them together through this child.

Ethan’s past was a tapestry of suffering. Born an illegitimate son, scorned by the Blackwood family, he had clawed his way to power with ruthless determination. His mother, Victoria Blackwood, had died broken-hearted, never recognized as the rightful matriarch.

He would not let history repeat itself.

No matter the opposition—even from William Blackwood himself—Ethan would claim Isabella and their child. That child would inherit everything.

At Blackwood Manor, William awaited his grandson with thinly veiled impatience. "It’s been weeks since the last family gathering," the old man snapped. "Have you made your choice?"

Ethan remained silent, his expression unreadable.

William pressed on. "The Whitmore girl is suitable. Or perhaps Charlotte Kensington—raised by the Thorntons, practically their own. Marrying her would secure our alliance with—"

"I won’t marry any of them," Ethan interrupted coldly.

William’s face darkened. "Then who? You’re past thirty! Who could possibly meet your standards?"

Ethan’s gaze was glacial. "The mother of my child."

The words were a double-edged sword—a declaration of defiance against the family’s prejudices and a vow to rewrite their legacy.

William stiffened. "Your mother’s situation was—"

"If there’s nothing else, I’m leaving." Ethan turned on his heel and walked out.

Back at Blackwood Enterprises, Ethan buried himself in work, the morning’s chaos momentarily forgotten. But by afternoon, his thoughts circled back to Isabella.

At the hospital, he found Sophia Montgomery tending to his mother. She looked up with a warm smile. "Ethan. You’re here."

The sound of his name on her lips caught him off guard. It was the first time she’d said it so naturally.

Ethan said nothing, but something inside him shifted.