“Nathaniel, if Wren was really so wonderful, would you have gone looking for someone else in the first place?
I’d bet she sensed exactly where things stood, realized your heart wasn’t in it anymore, and went and lined up Desmond as a backup plan.” The harder Nathaniel defended Ivy, the more agitated Margaret became.
“Cut this woman loose already, before she drags the entire Sinclair mess down on top of you along with her!
Mark my words if you actually go through with the divorce, she’ll cling to this family and bleed you dry for years.”
Nathaniel let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Mom.
Do you really think she’d bother?”
By every measure anyone cared about status, money, appearance, family name the general consensus had always been that Ivy had married up, far beyond what she deserved.
Even he’d bought into that assumption once, right alongside his mother, certain she’d cling to the Sinclair connection for as long as it benefited her.
Reality had corrected that assumption hard.
The moment Chloe entered the picture, Ivy hadn’t hesitated for a second straight to divorce, and then straight into keeping her distance, completely unmoved.
No one he’d ever met had pulled away that cleanly, that fast.
Lately he’d been quietly untangling the financial ties between the Sinclairs and Wolfe Jewels, half as a test to see whether she’d push back.
She hadn’t.
Not once.
If anything, it confirmed exactly how little she actually cared about protecting that family.
She’d worn the mask so convincingly for so long everyone, himself included, had assumed she was soft, devoted, invested in preserving both families.
She never cared about any of it.
“Regardless if she really is tangled up with Desmond, the two of you need to end this immediately.” Margaret’s tone sharpened.
“And if you can’t bring yourself to do it, I’ll find a way to have her packed and gone myself.”
Something in Nathaniel’s expression went cold.
“Mom.
Don’t touch her.”
Margaret felt an actual sting at that.
“You’re taking her side against me now?
You never once pushed back on me like this while the two of you were supposedly inseparable.”
This woman is nothing but trouble.
She has no business staying near my son.
Margaret ended the call on her own terms.
Nathaniel forced his temper down, though the photos kept replaying in his head, agitation building rather than settling.
Why would she get tangled up with Desmond again?
Did she not learn anything from last time?
Or is this deliberate, some kind of payback aimed at me?
Rationally, he couldn’t make himself believe it.
But rational thought kept losing ground to a dozen worse scenarios circling through his head, and he couldn’t sit still.
Out of the corner of his eye, he registered Chloe still standing there, skin catching the light.
His frown deepened.
“Why are you still here?
It’s late.
Go to bed.”
“You look exhausted, Nathaniel, all that tension in your shoulders.” Chloe’s hands landed on him, the implication in her voice unmistakable.
“Let me help you relax.”
Nathaniel pulled back like he’d touched something unpleasant.
“Chloe.
You don’t need to keep doing this trying to be her.”
Chloe’s face went pale, though she kept up the act.
“Why would I want to be Wren?
If you’re still in love with her, why treat me this well?
Why divorce her for me at all?”
Nathaniel’s expression darkened further.
The woman I loved was Wren.
Never Ivy.
That’s the entire reason someone like Chloe, with that same energy, ended up standing next to me in the first place.
Chloe was right here, offering exactly what he supposedly wanted.
So why did his mind keep circling back to a woman actively trying to divorce him?
I’m not thinking about Ivy out of concern.
I’m thinking about whatever mess Desmond’s about to cause.
That’s all this is.
The thought settled something in him, and his expression eased just enough to turn back to Chloe, cutting straight through her performance.
“You’ve been copying Wren this entire time, haven’t you?”
Chloe blanched at being called out so directly.
“I”
“Don’t bother denying it.
I actually don’t mind.” Nathaniel said it flatly, no hesitation in it.
“Keep that same composed, pleasant energy.
Just don’t waste effort on anything beyond that.”
Whatever careful plan Chloe had been building collapsed in that instant, humiliation and fury tangled together.
She fled the room in tears without a word of explanation.
Nathaniel barely registered her leaving.
Some instinct told him Desmond’s fixation on Ivy wasn’t harmless, and he called him directly to say so.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise you called me first.” Desmond laughed, arrogant, making no effort to hide his interest in Ivy.
“Ever since you started cheating on her and pushing her aside, she’s only gotten more interesting.
I like this wilder version of her even more.”
Nathaniel’s voice went cold.
“Desmond.
Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Heard she’s resigning.
Marriage circling the drain, is it?” Desmond sounded thrilled to hear the concern underneath Nathaniel’s anger.
“Without you dragging her down, she’s actually shining.
First she’s cozying up to Sebastian Barrow at Elysium, and now a bandaged face and all men are still lining up for her.
How’s the jealousy treating you?”
Something about that snagged Nathaniel’s attention.
He checked the background details in the photos again and confirmed the hotel Ironbridge.
She went to Ironbridge for the factory inspection.
Something’s actually wrong out there.
“Desmond, you’re the kind of rat that only operates in the dark, playing dirty because you’ve got nothing real to offer.
Pathetic.” Nathaniel hung up without waiting for a response.
Desmond slammed his phone down, furious.
Of course they’re brothers.
Even their insults land exactly the same.
He considered Nathaniel his one true enemy in this life, and being looked down on by him, specifically, lit something vicious in his chest.
…Look down on me?
You’ll regret that.
Meanwhile, Nathaniel called headquarters and pulled the full report on the Ironbridge situation.
Something about it was clearly off, and he tore into the production manager the second he had her on the line.
“Why is an injured employee handling this in person?
Is the rest of the department dead?
Since when do we send people into the field hurt?”
“The factory only trusts Director Hart, sir!
That’s on me.
I should have handled it differently.
Should I pull your wife off the assignment immediately?” The production manager’s voice shook, genuinely rattled.
Since when were the president and Director Hart on the outs?
That tone sounded like a devoted husband.
“Your wife.” The phrase landed strangely in the room.
Nathaniel’s expression soured, though his voice stayed indifferent.
“She insisted on going herself.
Whatever happens to her out there, she earned it.”
The production manager stared at the now-silent phone, torn between confusion and something else entirely.
He clearly cares.
A lot.
The man’s about as good at hiding it as a screen door in a hurricane.
Ten minutes later, Marcus who’d only just drifted off got a call from Nathaniel instructing him to stay behind and personally accompany Chloe through the rest of the jewelry exhibition, handling the overseas business himself.
Marcus’s drowsiness vanished instantly.
“Sir, there’s still a mountain of work at the overseas office that needs your attention.
Has something happened back at headquarters?”
Nathaniel hung up without answering.
Thoroughly confused, Marcus made a few calls first to headquarters, then to the estate and pieced together the full picture: Ivy had moved out entirely, and on top of that, gone to Ironbridge on assignment while still recovering from a serious injury.
No wonder he couldn’t sit still.
Pregnant, injured, appetite gone, nausea hitting her in waves Ivy looked pale enough that Hazel genuinely worried she might collapse where she stood.
For the baby’s sake, skipping meals wasn’t an option.
Worried the morning sickness might tip Hazel off, Ivy ordered room service to her own room instead of joining her for dinner.
Less than two minutes after placing the order, a knock came at the door.
Ivy was almost impressed by the turnaround time.
She opened the door, expecting a room service cart
“Mr.
Ashby?”