Chapter 273
Alexander tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp and assessing.
He understood perfectly well that Isabella was extending him an olive branch.
But why? She had no personal stake in this mess.
Damian and Victoria were walking catastrophes—any sane person would steer clear.
Isabella’s smile remained gentle, but her tone was laced with venom, deliberately provoking Damian further.
“Ahhh!” Though his mother tried to shield him, the scalding coffee splashed over Damian’s skin, drawing a pained scream from his lips.
“You bitch! You’ll pay for this!” Damian had never been humiliated like this in his life.
Despite being illegitimate, he had been coddled endlessly, handed everything on a silver platter.
This was the first time a woman had dared to treat him with such contempt.
Moments ago, Alexander had knocked him to the ground.
Now, seared by the boiling liquid, Damian looked like a drenched, beaten mutt.
Victoria wasn’t faring any better.
The coffee soaked through her designer dress, leaving angry red burns on her skin.
She struggled to maintain her composure, but the pain was too raw to conceal.
“Alexander, is this how you handle your affairs?” Her voice was icy, a stark contrast to her usual saccharine tone. “Even if you despise Damian and me, you shouldn’t allow deliberate harm.”
Normally, she wore a mask of gentility, but now her face was twisted with fury, radiating malice.
Victoria lunged toward Isabella, her movements unsteady but her intent clear.
“Miss Sinclair, if your parents failed to teach you manners, I’ll gladly correct that oversight myself.”
From Isabella’s perspective, Victoria’s attack was clumsy—her balance off, her stance weak.
Isabella’s voice was razor-sharp, dripping with mockery.
“Only the dead can raise me now. If you think you’re up to the task, go ahead.”
Her expression remained eerily calm, but her dark eyes locked onto Victoria’s, and for a heartbeat, Victoria felt like she was staring into the abyss.
A jolt of fear shot through her.
Could Isabella truly be capable of violence? No, it had to be her imagination.
The unsettling thought only fueled Victoria’s rage.
How dare this upstart challenge her?
“I’m not afraid of you,” she hissed, raising her hand to strike.
She knew she couldn’t lay a finger on Alexander without consequences, but she was certain she could torment Isabella right in front of him.
Julian, watching from the sidelines, tightened his grip on the scalpel in his hand.
He was seconds away from intervening, fully aware of how to cripple Victoria without killing her.
But before he could move, Alexander caught Victoria’s wrist.
“You’re playing with fire.”
His voice was deceptively calm, but the power behind it was undeniable.
The veins in his hand stood out, making escape impossible.
Isabella glanced at Alexander, now standing protectively in front of her.
Her mind flashed back to their kiss in the elevator—the way he had dominated her, the way their wills had clashed.
She had meant to treat it as a game, but somehow, they had both been pulled deeper.
Alexander’s untamed intensity always drew her in, time and again.
And now, here he was again.
He could have let someone else handle this. He could have dealt with it discreetly.
But no—he was doing it openly, right in front of her.
If she handed him a blade, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d cut down her enemies without flinching, his confidence bordering on arrogance.
Consequences? An afterthought.
A sharp crack echoed through the room.
Victoria’s face drained of color before she let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Let go—let go! Ahhh!”
No matter how hard she tried to cling to her dignity, it shattered under the crushing force of Alexander’s grip.
He had broken her wrist—just as he had done to her son moments before.
Once, even if Alexander loathed her and Damian, he wouldn’t have crossed this line so blatantly.
But today, he was different.
His usual restraint was gone, replaced by a terrifying, simmering rage.
In that moment, he looked capable of murder.
