Chapter 269
“Mother, enough talking with them!” Damian’s voice shook with barely contained fury as his mother continued her pointless conversation.
What had started as mild irritation had now exploded into white-hot rage.
His wrist still throbbed painfully, his fingers numb as if crushed in an iron grip. There was no way he could simply ignore this humiliation.
With a dark glare, Damian snatched up a nearby baseball bat, his knuckles turning white around the handle. If Alexander thought he could intimidate him, he was sorely mistaken.
My mother might be weak enough to let this slide, but I won’t.
Damian knew better than to challenge Alexander directly—just the thought made his jaw clench. But the bitter taste of his anger refused to fade.
Fine, Alexander, I’ll let you off this time. But Isabella… she’s going to pay for this.
He raised the bat, ready to bring it down on Isabella with all his strength.
Alexander, however, only laughed—a cold, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Damian’s spine.
“You really are a fool.”
Before Damian could react, Alexander moved.
For the first time in his life, Damian saw Alexander stand.
The man who had been confined to a wheelchair for years, the one Damian had mocked relentlessly—both to his face and behind his back—was now towering over him, perfectly unharmed.
Damian’s rage flared hotter, but beneath it, a flicker of fear ignited.
“Hmph. Maybe I’m not a genius,” Damian spat, “but at least I don’t betray my own family for some outsider.”
With that, he swung the bat down with all his might, aiming for Isabella.
But she didn’t even flinch.
Instead, she watched him with eerie calm, as if she found his pathetic display amusing. Her indifference only fueled his fury.
You’re going to regret crossing me, Isabella.
He remembered a time when he had considered being civil to her—when they first met. Now, the very thought disgusted him.
She had chosen Alexander’s side.
But what did it matter? Even as the illegitimate son of the Kingsley family, Damian still held power.
Or so he thought.
Before the bat could connect, a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Damian barely had time to register what was happening before he was slammed onto the floor.
“Wha—AH!”
Alexander moved too fast—unnaturally fast.
Isabella remained still, unbothered, as if she had expected this all along.
“Ms. Sinclair is under my protection,” Alexander stated, his voice low and dangerous. His grip on Damian’s shoulder was unyielding, pinning him effortlessly.
“If you even think of touching her,” Alexander continued, his tone icy, “you’d better reconsider whether you’re worthy of the consequences.”
From where she stood, Isabella watched as Alexander moved with lethal grace. His tailored suit accentuated every line of his powerful frame, his presence both mesmerizing and terrifying.
When he spoke, his words carried an authority that sent a strange warmth through her.
Then, without hesitation, Alexander twisted Damian’s left leg with brutal precision.
A blood-curdling scream tore through the villa.
“AHHHH!!”
Damian writhed on the floor, his body drenched in sweat, his face contorted in agony.
For the first time, true terror flashed in his eyes as he looked up at Alexander—the man who could end his life with barely any effort.
