Chapter 203
Isabella’s eyes gleamed with icy contempt, slicing through Darren’s already fragile composure.
A surge of fury ignited within him.
Who the hell does she think she is— His thoughts were abruptly cut short as he spotted Isabella pressing the key fob, about to slip into her sleek black car.
His breath hitched.
That wasn’t just any car—it was a Rolls-Royce Phantom, a luxury vehicle worth over a million dors.
Darren’s gaze darted between the car and the key in her hand, and just like that, the sting of her earlier insult evaporated.
A smug grin stretched across his face as he swiftly stepped into her path.
“Isabella, darling, let me drive you home.”
“What kind of man lets a lady chauffeur herself? It’s the gentlemanly thing to do,” he purred, oozing false charm.
As he spoke, he reached for her wrist, convinced his sleazy tactics would work.
Pride swelled in his chest.
Clearly, Isabella had come into serious money.
That car alone could fund a lifetime of luxury for someone like him.
If he could just worm his way into her good graces… His mind raced with visions of a future where he wouldn’t be stuck driving that beat-up, second-hand junker.
Soon, he’d convince her to buy him something flashy—something worthy of him.
Lost in his delusions of easy wealth, a voice, sharp as a blade, cut through his fantasies.
“Oh, really?”
Before Darren could react, the world spun violently.
Isabella flipped him effortlessly over her shoulder, slamming him onto the pavement with bone-jarring force.
Pain exploded through his body like a live wire.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as his organs seemed to rearrange themselves from the impact.
“Let go! Let—AH!” Darren wheezed as Isabella’s knee dug mercilessly into his ribs.
The pressure crushed his lungs, his face flushing crimson as he gasped for air.
Then—CRACK!
Her palm connected with his cheek in a stinging slap.
A wicked smirk curled her lips.
“So, you thought you could bully me just because you liked me? Because you wanted my attention?”
“Well, now it’s my turn to return the favor.”
“Does that mean I’m trying to get your attention too?”
With that, she unleashed a rapid-fire barrage of brutal slaps.
“Shouldn’t you be thanking me?”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
Darren’s face quickly morphed into a swollen, red mess.
The worst part? He couldn’t fight back.
Dazed, stars danced in his vision as each desperate plea for mercy was met with another strike.
“AHHH! STOP!”
He wanted to retaliate, but his body refused to move.
Staring up at her in shock, he barely recognized the timid girl from the orphanage in the fierce woman before him.
As the memory of that helpless child merged with the predator standing over him, Darren instinctively shielded his head.
“Please—just stop! I was wrong!”
“Then why aren’t you thanking me?” Isabella demanded, her grip tightening on his collar, her expression glacial.
Her hand reared back again.
Darren squeezed his eyes shut, babbling in panic.
“THANK YOU! THANK YOU!”
Without warning, she kicked him away, sending him sprawling onto the pavement.
“Tsk. Stay away,” she said dismissively, straightening her clothes with a flick of her wrist.
“Next time, I won’t stop at just slapping you.”
Her movements were smooth, controlled—a stark contrast to Darren, who writhed on the ground in agony.
Gathering what little dignity he had left, he scrambled to his knees, nodding frantically while cradling his battered face.
“Okay. Okay.”
All he’d gained was a brutal beating.
Helpless, he watched as the taillights of her Phantom disappeared into the night.
Clutching his throbbing cheek, he gritted his teeth and spat her name like a curse.
“Isabella Sinclair… just you wait.”
One way or another, he would win her over.
And when he did?
Every humiliation she’d inflicted tonight would be repaid tenfold.
