Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight) novel Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Chapter 5 – A Kindred Spirit’s Shelter and a Subtle Retaliation
The air inside Isabelle’s luxury car felt charged with possibility as we pulled away from the Sterling estate. I slumped against the soft leather seat, the gravity of what had just happened finally hitting me. I was homeless, nearly broke, and had just burned my last bridge in spectacular fashion.
Yet somehow, I felt freer than I had in years.
“Are you alright?” Isabelle’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She was watching me with curious eyes, her expression a mixture of concern and something else I couldn’t quite identify.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I should be terrified right now. I have nowhere to go, barely any money…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “But all I feel is relief.”
A small smile graced her lips. “Sometimes burning bridges illuminates the path forward.”
I glanced at her, surprised by the insight. “Is that why you stepped in back there? To help me find a new path?”
“I stepped in because I wanted to,” she replied simply. “The Sterling family has a reputation for devouring people they consider beneath them. It was… satisfying to disrupt their little ceremony.”
The memory of their shocked faces when Isabelle walked in beside me made me chuckle. “Their expressions were priceless.”
“Particularly your wife’s,” Isabelle added with a hint of mischief. “Ex-wife,” I corrected. “Soon enough, anyway.”
We fell into a comfortable silence as the car navigated through Havenwood City’s upscale neighborhoods. I realized I had no idea where we were headed.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked.
Isabelle turned to face me fully. “I own several properties throughout the city. One of them is a guest villa in the Cypress Heights district. It’s fully furnished, private, and currently vacant.” She paused, gauging my reaction. “You’re welcome to stay there while you sort things out.”
My pride flared instantly. “I can’t accept that. It’s too much.”
“Consider it payment for healing me,” she countered smoothly. “Since you refused my money earlier.”
I shook my head firmly. “I told you, I don’t want payment for that.”
“Then consider it a loan,” she pressed. “An investment, if you prefer. Something tells me you’re about to become someone worth knowing, Mr. Knight.”
There was such certainty in her voice that I found myself wondering what she saw in me that others—that I myself—had missed all these years.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked bluntly. “We only met today. You don’t know anything about me.”
She considered this for a moment, her elegant fingers absently adjusting a diamond bracelet on her wrist. “I know enough. I know you possess knowledge and abilities that most people would exploit for profit, yet you refused payment. I know you maintained your dignity in a situation designed to strip you of it.” Her eyes met mine directly. “And I know what it’s like to be underestimated and dismissed.”
That last statement surprised me. How could someone like Isabelle Ashworth, heir to one of the country’s largest fortunes, know anything about being dismissed?
As if reading my thoughts, she added, “Being a woman in my position comes with its own challenges. Men twice my age constantly try to explain my own business to me, assuming I’m just a pretty figurehead for my family’s empire.”
“But you’re not,” I observed.
“No,” she agreed with a slight smile. “I’m not.”
The car turned into a private road lined with towering cypress trees. At the end stood a modern villa, all clean lines and glass, nestled against a hillside overlooking the city.
“Here we are,” Isabelle announced as the car came to a stop. “It’s not the main Ashworth estate, but I think you’ll find it comfortable.”
‘Comfortable’ was an understatement. As we stepped inside, I was greeted by soaring ceilings, minimalist furnishings that probably cost more than I’d earned in my lifetime, and floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a breathtaking view of Havenwood City.
“This is…” I struggled for words. “This is incredible.”
“The refrigerator is stocked, there’s a full bar if you need it, and the master bedroom is upstairs,” Isabelle explained, moving through the space with practiced ease. “The security system is top of the line, and the property is gated. You’ll have complete privacy here.”
I followed her in a daze, trying to reconcile this sudden turn of events. Yesterday, I was being ordered around the Sterling estate like a servant. Today, I was being offered a luxury villa by one of the most powerful women in the country.
“I don’t understand,” I said finally, stopping in the middle of the vast living room. “Why go to all this trouble for a stranger?”
Isabelle turned to face me, her expression serious. “Because I believe in repaying debts, Mr. Knight. And in cultivating valuable alliances.”
“Believe what you want,” I said mildly. “How’s Gideon? Still planning that big deal with the Ashworth family?”
Her silence told me everything. “What do you know about that?” she finally asked, her voice tight.
“Just curious if your new boyfriend mentioned meeting Isabelle Ashworth today. She seemed… unimpressed.”
“You don’t know anything about the Ashworths,” Seraphina snapped, but there was uncertainty in her voice.
“Maybe not,” I conceded. “But I do know that Ms. Ashworth specifically offered to help me with our divorce. Interesting, isn’t it? Someone of her stature taking an interest in someone as worthless as me?”
I ended the call before she could respond, feeling a petty but satisfying sense of triumph. For once, I had left Seraphina speechless instead of the other way around.
—
Meanwhile, across the city, Isabelle Ashworth sat in the back of her car, reviewing financial reports on her tablet. Her secretary, a sharp-eyed woman named Vivian, waited patiently for instructions.
“How was your meeting with the Sterling family?” Vivian asked carefully, noting her employer’s unusually thoughtful expression.
“Enlightening,” Isabelle replied, not looking up from her tablet. “Tell me, do we have the Blackwood family on our list of potential collaborators for the Eastshore development?”
Vivian checked her notes. “Yes, Ms. Ashworth. Gideon Blackwood’s father expressed interest last month in being part of the investment group.”
“I see.” Isabelle’s fingers stopped scrolling, and she looked up with a cool smile. “Kick them out.”
Vivian’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she made a note without comment. “Any particular reason I should give them?”
“Tell them we’ve decided to go in a different direction,” Isabelle said, turning back to her reports. “And Vivian? Make sure word gets back to the Sterling family about this decision. Indirectly, of course.”
“Of course, Ms. Ashworth,” Vivian replied, a small smile playing at her lips. “Consider it done.”
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