Chapter 85
Sophia didn’t dare utter a word, her silence thickening the air as Ethan’s fury simmered beside her.
But Ethan was far from finished.
“Mr. Kingsley,” he spat, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade, “don’t think you can just throw your weight around like that!”
At this level of power, everyone understood what it meant to have a corporate giant backing someone. It wasn’t just support—it was an unbreakable alliance, a web of fates intertwined. The look Alexander had given him earlier, as he handed over the bag, was unmistakable to any man who knew the game. It wasn’t the glance of a mere acquaintance, much less one as ruthless and calculating as Alexander.
The realization only stoked Ethan’s rage further. His chest heaved, and the finger he jabbed toward Isabella trembled with barely restrained fury.
“So, it’s true,” he hissed. “You’ve been involved with him all along. No wonder you were so eager to discard me, you treacherous little—”
Sophia’s poisonous whispers had seeped into Ethan’s mind, binding him to his wrath. Any lingering guilt he might have felt for Isabella evaporated like mist under the morning sun. Now, he was convinced—Isabella had sold herself for this business years ago.
“You had everything in the Blackwood family—comfort, security, luxury handed to you on a silver platter! We never mistreated you, and yet you repaid us with betrayal, humiliating me with your deceit. Isabella, you’re nothing but a lying, scheming whore.”
Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot, his mind clouded by fury. He didn’t even fully understand why this rage consumed him, but it did—so completely that he lost all control, hurling venomous words at her like daggers.
Crack!
Isabella didn’t flinch. Her reaction was swift as lightning. Her slender fingers moved in a blur, and the sickening sound of bone snapping echoed through the room.
“Ahhh!”
Ethan barely registered what had happened before numbness shot through his fingers, followed by searing, bone-deep agony. Isabella had broken one of his fingers.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as his body convulsed in shock. The sharp pain reignited the fracture in his other wrist, amplifying his torment. With a heavy, humiliating thud, he collapsed to his knees.
The fall wasn’t just from the pain—it felt like fire scorching through his veins. He hunched over, his spine twisting as if trying to shield itself from the relentless agony.
“Are you insane, Isabella?!”
To an outsider, it might have looked like Ethan was bowing in apology. Even through the haze of pain, a ridiculous thought flickered through his mind—at least she hadn’t aimed lower. If she had, his future would have been obliterated.
“Oh my God! Ethan, are you okay?!” Sophia shrieked, her voice trembling with terror. She had never witnessed such brutality before. The speed, the chilling precision of Isabella’s strike left her reeling. She stumbled back, an icy dread slithering down her spine.
But Isabella wasn’t done.
She followed Ethan as he fell, crouching beside him, her presence looming like a shadow. Gripping his jaw with both hands, she forced it open, her control absolute.
“Is this all it takes to break you?” she murmured, her voice eerily calm. “We’ve only just begun.”
With a sharp twist, she dislocated his jaw.
Then, she pulled a small knife from her sleeve, the blade glinting ominously as she pressed it against his tongue.
“This tongue of yours,” she mused, her tone conversational yet laced with menace, “always wagging, always spinning lies. Let’s see how much it can move once it’s severed.”
The terrifying calm in Isabella’s voice sent a fresh wave of terror through Sophia. She froze, too petrified to even breathe.
She remembered that day in Athton, when Isabella had sliced off her hair with a knife, the sting of the slap that had followed. That memory alone was enough to make Sophia retreat further, her legs carrying her backward as fast as fear could propel her—terrified that Isabella’s wrath would turn on her next.
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