Chapter 111 Isabella Had an Accident
Isabella's phone vibrated again. William's message flashed across the screen.
William: [Ten minutes. If you're late, you'll regret it.]
Isabella glanced at the GPS. The destination was still thirty minutes away. Even if she floored it, there was no way she could meet his deadline.
She considered her options, then typed out a reply with one hand while gripping the wheel with the other.
Isabella: [I'm on my way. It's far. I need at least thirty minutes. Please give me more time.]
William stared at the words on his screen. She was stalling—making excuses.
She didn't want to come get him. That much was obvious.
Or maybe he simply didn't matter to her at all. Maybe Ambrose was the only person she cared about.
He knew she had spent the whole night in her ward praying for Ambrose. That was why he'd been so brutal with her lately—why he'd taken her with such violence, over and over.
Dylan stood behind him, catching a glimpse of the screen. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Spencer, the distance... it really is quite far."
William's eyes snapped up, cold and sharp. Dylan fell silent.
"That's her problem to solve."
He didn't want explanations. He fired off another message: [You have nine minutes.]
Then he tossed the phone aside and didn't look at it again.
Dylan lowered his head, wondering what Isabella would do when she saw that message.
Isabella read the words without surprise. William never considered her circumstances. He never had.
She tightened her grip on the wheel. The road ahead stretched empty and dark. She made a decision and slammed her foot down on the accelerator.
The engine roared. She couldn't guarantee she'd make it in time, but she could damn well try to close the gap.
The world outside became a blur of lights and shadows.
Isabella's eyes locked on the road ahead, her foot pressed to the floor.
The distance was shrinking. Just across the bridge ahead, and she'd be close.
Her phone buzzed again. She glanced down for half a second—and a car swerved into her lane.
At this speed, there was no time to brake. She yanked the wheel hard. The tires screamed against asphalt, the sound slicing through the night.
The car spun out of control, crashed through the guardrail, and plunged toward the water below.
Everything happened too fast. She barely had time to process it before gravity took over and her body went weightless.
At that exact moment, William's glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. The noise cut through the room like a gunshot. Everyone went quiet.
His jaw clenched as he dialed Isabella's number. No answer. The broken glass at his feet seemed to mirror the fracture in his mood.
What the hell was she playing at?
He'd already decided—for every minute she was late, he'd humiliate her for a full minute in front of everyone here. He'd expose her in exactly the ways she feared most.
Dylan's phone rang. He answered, and the color drained from his face. His eyes went wide as he stared at William.
William's voice went cold. "Speak."
Dylan swallowed hard. "Mr. Spencer, the traffic police just called. Your car was clocked at extreme speeds. There was an accident on Blackwater Bridge... the vehicle went into the river."
William's mind went blank. "I didn't drive anywhere. How the hell could my car end up in the river?"
Someone stole his car?
But Rosewood Estate wasn't exactly easy to break into.
And the cars in that garage—no one would dare touch them. Except...
William's pupils dilated. He shot to his feet, nearly stumbling.
"Call the estate. Now. Find out if Isabella took a car."
Dylan was already dialing. Before the call even connected, he knew the answer.
No one else would have dared.
The butler confirmed it within seconds. Isabella had left in one of the cars. The license plate matched the one the police had reported.
William bolted from the room, Dylan on his heels, already calling the rescue teams.
William had never imagined Isabella would drive herself.
Extreme speeds? Was she trying to kill herself?
"Get every available team out there. I want her found."
"Yes, sir."
If she died like this, it would be too easy. She hadn't finished paying for what she'd done. He wouldn't let her die. Not yet.
Dylan opened the car door. Despite the alcohol on his breath, William's eyes were sharp and clear.
The news had sobered him instantly.
He didn't know if it was the alcohol or something else, but his hands were shaking.
Blackwater Bridge. A fall from that height—could anyone survive?
His breathing hitched. He cursed himself silently. He was drunk. That's why he was worried about someone like her. Even if she died, what did it matter? Why was he panicking?
"Pull the traffic camera footage. I want to see exactly how fast she was going."
Isabella, who barely had the energy to get out of bed most days—he couldn't picture her speeding.
Dylan pulled up the footage on a tablet and handed it over.
The car in the video was moving so fast it was almost a blur.
"One hundred and thirty-seven miles per hour? Was she trying to fly?"
William's cars were modified—built to handle speeds that would make a professional racer sweat. Isabella had pushed the accelerator all the way down. The car had practically been airborne.
He couldn't believe it. He'd never driven that fast himself, and she'd just... done it.
Was she in that much of a hurry? Or was she trying to die?
"She must have a death wish. Why the hell would she drive like that?"
His voice shook. He didn't notice the fear in his own expression—far more prominent than the anger.
Dylan felt a surge of sympathy for Isabella.
If William hadn't pushed her so hard, hadn't given her an impossible deadline, she never would have risked her life like this.
She'd driven that fast for one reason only—to try to meet his demands.
Dylan had seen the accident footage. At a normal speed, she could have avoided the collision easily. But at that velocity, there was no time to brake.
A fall from that height—if it hadn't been water below, the car would have been crushed to scrap metal. Her along with it.
Even landing in water, the impact would be catastrophic.
William's car tore through the night toward Blackwater Bridge. By the time they arrived, the riverbank was crawling with rescue personnel. Searchlights cut through the darkness, sweeping back and forth across the churning water.
The river looked black and merciless, ready to swallow everything whole.
"Mr. Spencer, we found it! The car's at the bottom, three hundred yards downstream. We're bringing it up now."
The rescue captain's voice was tight with urgency. William rushed forward. The wind off the river was bitter and cold, but he didn't feel it.
Only one thought pounded through his mind: Isabella had to be alive. She couldn't be dead.