Chapter 3

ETHAN’S POV

I already noticed the shift the moment I walked into the lobby and headed straight to the meeting hall.

The room was already full when I stepped in. The room vibrated with the low hum of conversation and tension that was always present before a vote.

Just another meeting, I told myself.

Then I saw her.

Isabella Moretti sat at the table, her legs crossed, her posture fixed. She sat as if she had never left. As if six years hadn’t passed.

For a moment, I thought I was mistaken. The room kept moving around me, but my focus was on her.

She looked up, and our eyes met.

For the first time since the incident, we stared directly at each other. But this time, she didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch.

Something in my chest tightened at her expression.

She was neither afraid nor hesitant. She looked calm, observant, and controlled.

She had changed but not in the way I had expected. She looked stronger.

I forced myself to look away and walked to my seat.

“Good morning,” I said as I took my seat at the head of the table.

A few members responded.

I looked at her again when I was finally seated.

She was dressed in a simple outfit, but nothing about her was simple.

Her long blonde hair was packed neatly in a ponytail. Her pointed nose and naturally long eyelashes highlighted her round small face.

Her presence held attention without asking for it.

Samuel cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

Samuel began speaking, stating the agenda, but I wasn’t listening. My mind was racing, my thoughts revolving around Isabella and her sudden appearance.

When Samuel mentioned the proposed sale of the flagship store, Isabella leaned back slightly.

I watched her closely.

She wasn’t here to plead. She was here to challenge.

“Before I proceed,” Samuel said, glancing briefly at her, “there is an unexpected party present.”

Isabella scoffed softly.

“Ethan, you remember Isabella.”

I turned my gaze to Isabella deliberately.

“Ms. Moretti,” I said, keeping my tone formal. “You were not listed on today’s attendance.”

She met my eyes without hesitation.

“I wasn’t invited.”

I nodded.

“Are you aware this is a shareholders meeting?”

“I am.”

“Then you’re also aware your shares were relinquished years ago.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“Relinquished? How could I have relinquished what I didn’t own yet?”

The room went silent.

Samuel’s face tightened. He leaned forward.

“What are you talking about?”

I raised a hand. He stopped immediately.

“Do you have any documentation to support your claim?”

Before I finished speaking, the woman beside her handed Isabella a tablet.

“I suggest,” she continued, “that before you vote on selling what you don’t fully own, you review the documents you conveniently overlooked.”

She slid the tablet onto the table.

I picked it up and scrolled through it.

The whole room fell silent as everyone watched me.

Its contents showed that Claire Moretti had structured the company so Isabella would inherit her shares at twenty-one.

The date on the transfer documents showed she was still twenty when she signed. Isabella was not yet the legal owner, which meant she couldn’t have transferred them.

My jaw tightened.

A low murmur spread across the room.

“What does it say?” Samuel asked impatiently.

The shareholders were nervous. Samuel’s forehead was slick with sweat.

“The vote will be postponed,” I said calmly.

Samuel turned to me sharply.

“What?”

“There is proof that Isabella still legally owns shares in Moretti Luxe Group. She is entitled to plead her case with the board.”

Isabella’s lips curled into a small smile of satisfaction.

Samuel’s face hardened. He turned to me sharply.

“Ethan–”

“I want a full review of all assets tied to the proposed sale,” I continued. “And I want legal clarification regarding prior share transfers. Rushing this benefits no one.”

The meeting dissolved shortly after. Murmurs filled the hall as people gathered their things.

I remained seated.

I watched Isabella stand and exchange a few words with her companion, the lady from before.

Isabella didn’t look back at me as she left the hall. I told myself I didn’t care, but my chest tightened regardless.

Later, back in my office, I sat scrolling on my tablet through every mention of her ISMARA empire. Interviews, awards, fashion week coverage, profiles in business journals. Fashion week headlines in Milan, Paris, Tokyo.

Isabella Moretti: The Woman Who Built a Fashion Empire from the Ashes…

At 26, Isabella Moretti Is One of the Youngest Self-Made Billionaires in Fashion…

My brows furrowed.

“This can’t be the same woman,” I muttered.

She had rebuilt herself completely, from ashes to global influence.

I remembered that day from six years ago. I woke up and found her in my bed. She insisted she didn’t remember anything. I didn’t believe her, so I fired her immediately.

She was guilty. That must have been the reason she fled.

My jaw tightened. If she was guilty, she wouldn’t have returned the way she did. Calm, controlled, and confident.

I was still scrolling when my phone buzzed on the table.

I ignored it at first, but it buzzed again. Then vibrations came one after another.

I picked it up.

It was Caleb.

Then an unknown number.

I opened the first message.

Have you seen this yet?

A link followed.

I tapped it. The screen loaded slowly, and a video played.

My breath stopped.

The footage was old but clear enough.

Two people on the screen. One was me. The other was Isabella.

I stood up so abruptly my chair scraped loudly against the floor.

“No,” I muttered.

The footage had a timestamp. It was my hotel room from six years ago.

My hand tightened around the phone.

My phone buzzed again and again.

I opened my email.

Article headlines flooded my inbox.

Ethan Dexter involved in resurfaced scandal

Leaked footage raises questions about past corporate firing

Isabella Moretti at center of explosive revelation

The video was everywhere now.

Social media. News sites. Corporate forums.

My office door burst open.

“Sir,” my assistant’s voice trembled. “The press… they’re calling. The board wants an emergency session.”

I barely heard her.

All I could see was Isabella’s face from the meeting, calm and controlled, and the video of us together.

I felt the room spin as I imagined my carefully organised reputation slipping away.

I gripped the desk hard until my knuckles turned white.

Whoever leaked the video timed it perfectly, but…

Why now?