Chapter 82
“Ethan!” Sophia rushed forward, her eyes wide with panic as she tried to help him up.
He lay sprawled on the ground like a discarded marionette, limbs tangled awkwardly. The slightest twitch sent searing pain radiating from his shattered wrist, sharp enough to steal his breath.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to gather his thoughts.
“You’ve gone too far!” Sophia’s voice trembled with barely contained fury, her jaw clenched tight.
Who could have predicted Alexander Kingsley’s sudden appearance—let alone his bodyguard snapping Ethan’s wrist in broad daylight? His gaze flickered to the security cameras mounted outside the building, and for a fleeting moment, hope flared in his chest.
“This is assault! You broke the law!”
Alexander merely chuckled, the sound dripping with amusement. His mood was disturbingly light.
“Go ahead. File a complaint. Call the police.” He shrugged, his tone mocking. “Good luck finding any witnesses. And those cameras? Oh, they’ve been malfunctioning for weeks.”
Sophia’s face paled, her body locking in place. Everyone knew Alexander had connections in both high society and the underworld. Legalities were nothing more than trivial formalities to him.
“Mr. Kingsley,” she stammered, voice shaking, “what exactly have we done to deserve this?” Her attempt at diplomacy was laced with fear, but Alexander didn’t even glance her way.
“Deserve? You misunderstand. I’m simply in a foul mood today,” he replied, his tone indifferent.
Isabella couldn’t help but laugh at his sheer audacity.
Alexander didn’t react. Instead, without turning, he tossed a card at Ethan.
“For your medical expenses.”
The card landed with a humiliating thwack against Ethan’s cheek before fluttering to the ground. The gesture was so deliberately insulting that no words could have conveyed the contempt more clearly.
Ethan opened his mouth, ready to unleash a torrent of curses, but the movement jolted his broken wrist, forcing a sharp gasp of pain instead.
Watching Ethan and Sophia writhe in their misery, Isabella felt a rare flicker of satisfaction. Silently, she withdrew the small dagger she had concealed and turned her attention to Alexander.
“And what brings you here, Mr. Kingsley?”
He raised a hand, casually swinging a designer handbag.
“She forgot this when she left. Thought there might be something important inside.”
Isabella blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She had been so focused on scanning the house for clues that she’d completely overlooked her purse. Luckily, nothing of value had been left inside.
Ethan, however, listened to their exchange, and the ease with which they spoke was like a knife twisting in his gut. The familiarity, the casual rapport—it was undeniable. They were far closer than he had ever imagined.
The realization struck him like a freight train.
They were together.
Rage surged through him, overriding the pain in his wrist. He staggered forward, steps unsteady but determined, careful to keep his distance from Alexander.
“So it’s true,” he spat through gritted teeth. “You’re living together.” The agony in his wrist made his knees weak, but he refused to collapse. He didn’t need a doctor to confirm what he already knew—his wrist was broken.
“Isabella, how long has it been since our divorce? Were you already scouting for your next man while we were still married?”
Ethan’s fury was palpable as he glared at Alexander, who remained utterly unfazed.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, a memory struck him—that night on the yacht, when Isabella had coldly snapped a thug’s arm without hesitation. She had tossed money at him afterward, treating it like a transaction rather than an act of violence.
The realization hit him like a tidal wave.
Isabella’s behavior mirrored Alexander’s perfectly. The same indifference, the same dismissal of his rage. Her outbursts meant nothing to them—just fleeting gusts of wind, irrelevant and beneath notice. Even their so-called generosity in covering medical bills was nothing more than a gesture of disgust, a way to wash their hands of the mess.
Sophia, still clinging to Ethan, wore an expression of pure indignation.
“That’s it! How dare you treat us like this?” she hissed, frustration boiling over.
“And Mr. Kingsley,” she continued, voice rising, “back in Athton, I thought I was just helping Isabella out of pity—that I didn’t want her to be harassed. But now, seeing how close you two are, it’s obvious this isn’t just friendship, is it? You always claimed you weren’t interested in—”
