Chapter 3

Nina's POV

I stood in the Four Seasons Hotel interview area watching Isabella surrounded by a swarm of reporters.

She looked like a frightened rabbit, pitifully hunching her shoulders.

When she saw me approaching, her eyes lit up.

"Nina, Ethan said you were just upset. I knew you wouldn't abandon me."

She tried to link arms with me affectionately, but her gaze stuck to the garment bag in my hands, the haute couture brand logo printed on it.

I sidestepped her touch and handed over the bag.

"From Mr. Blackwood."

Isabella took the bag and opened it in front of all the reporters.

The next second, a scream pierced the hall.

"Ah! What-what is this?!"

The priceless dress was covered in coffee stains, with several torn gashes.

I calmly wiped my hands.

"Sorry, I didn't hold it steady on the way here. But Miss White loves picking up other people's discards, doesn't she?"

"Nina! What are you doing?!"

Ethan rushed out from backstage. Seeing the ruined dress and the reporters' flashing cameras, his face darkened terribly.

He pulled Isabella protectively behind him and shoved me hard.

"Have you lost your mind? You want to humiliate the Blackwood family in front of the media?!"

He put no restraint in that push.

Wearing stilettos, my ankle twisted and I fell hard onto the marble floor.

My right wrist hit first. Excruciating pain shot through me.

Ethan froze for a moment, seemingly not expecting such a hard fall, and instinctively reached out.

"Ethan... I'm so scared. Those reporters are photographing me..."

Isabella suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed against his back, her face deathly pale.

Ethan's half-extended hand froze in midair. He immediately pulled it back, turned, and caught Isabella.

"Don't be afraid. I'll get you out of here."

Without another glance at me on the floor, he carried her through the crowd while bodyguards immediately surrounded them to block the cameras.

In that vast interview area, only I remained, sitting disheveled on the ground.

My wrist throbbed with piercing pain-I didn't even have the strength to stand.

Just then, my phone rang.

I answered with trembling hands. A low voice came through.

"Seems I've called at just the right time."

My voice shook with pain.

"Adrian?"

"Mm."

The man on the other end gave a soft laugh.

"Does it hurt?"

I said nothing. Tears silently hit the floor.

"Stay where you are. My people are there. As for that hand that pushed you... I'll make him pay back tenfold."

As soon as he finished speaking, several stern-faced men in black pushed through the crowd and walked straight to me.

The leader bowed respectfully.

"Miss Stewart, Mr. Blackwood has sent us to take you to the hospital."

After getting my wound bandaged at the hospital, I returned to the villa.

Pushing open the door, I was nearly overwhelmed by the heavy scent of rose perfume.

I instinctively looked at the living room wall.

The painting my father had loved most once hung there-my only comfort these past years.

Now it had been replaced with an artistic photo of Isabella.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Isabella came down wearing a bathrobe, Ethan following behind her.

He glanced at the gauze on my hand, frowned, looking displeased.

"Why are you back so late? Isabella has trouble sleeping in new places. She's afraid to sleep alone, so she'll take the master bedroom tonight. You take the guest room."

I stood in the foyer, unmoving, nails digging into my palms.

"Where's that painting?"

Isabella shrank her neck and hid behind Ethan.

"It looked a bit old, so I had the housekeeper put it away. If you like it, I'll have Ethan buy you a better one tomorrow."

I laughed in anger.

That painting was an authentic masterpiece-priceless and irreplaceable.

I looked at Ethan.

"You just let her touch my things?"

Ethan rubbed his temples impatiently.

"It's just a painting. I'll buy you another if you like it. Can you stop being so petty?"

Seven years ago, before the Stewart family fell, this villa was my asset.

Now that I'd fallen on hard times, in his eyes I'd become petty?

I pulled out my phone and made a call in front of them both.

"Bring chainsaws and a moving company. Now."

Ethan's expression changed.

"What are you doing in the middle of the night?"

I stared into his eyes.

"Since Miss White likes other people's things, I don't want any of this anymore."

Half an hour later, workers charged into the second-floor master bedroom with chainsaws.

The harsh sound of sawing wood echoed throughout the villa.

I stood in the doorway directing them.

"Miss White slept in this bed. It's filthy. Saw it up."

"She touched that wardrobe. Smash it."

"And all this trash on the floor..."

I pointed at the decorations Isabella had brought.

"Throw it all out."

Isabella screamed in fright, covering her ears and cowering in the corner.

Ethan rushed up in fury. Bodyguards immediately blocked him from the doorway.

"Nina! Have you had enough? This is my house!"

"Mr. Blackwood has a poor memory."

I casually picked up a vase.

"The deed still has my name on it. I have the right to dispose of my half."

The vase smashed at Ethan's feet, shards flying.

I walked through the debris to stand before him, raising my bandaged right hand.

"Ethan, what I don't want, no one else gets to touch either."

"These seven years, I haven't just stayed by your side. I've been managing Blackwood Group. I negotiated the overseas channels. If we're settling accounts, let's settle them properly."

"Starting tomorrow, I'm taking back everything that's mine, piece by piece."

I sneered and turned away from the pathetic couple.

That night, Adrian sent a photo.

The background showed a New York airport gate. He said:

"See you soon."