Chapter 200 Advance or Retreat, Both Mean Death
Donny hurried over with an umbrella. When he saw William, soaking wet and disheveled, holding the unconscious and injured Isabella in his arms, a flash of intense hatred crossed his eyes.
If John hadn't called to tell him about today's events, he still wouldn't have known that Isabella's condition had deteriorated to this extent.
He stopped a few steps away, his voice colder than the downpour.
"William, are you happy now seeing her like this?"
"You drove her to a mental breakdown—is this the result you wanted?"
William's arms tightened around Isabella. He lowered his eyes without arguing back.
"Have you forgotten how you hurt her before? Who are you putting on this fake show for now? You think changing now can make up for what you did to her? Let me tell you—it can't."
"Someone as evil as you will never deserve forgiveness."
He took the accusations without protest.
He knew better than anyone—it was he who had personally driven the once vibrant Isabella into what she had become.
Donny hated the look on his face right now. Furious, he stepped forward and punched him in the face.
William staggered back but still held the person in his arms steady.
"You don't deserve to be by her side at all. If you really cared about her, you should stay away from her."
William ignored him and walked straight toward the car by the roadside.
Donny chased after him. "William, give Isabella her freedom. Staying with you will only lead her to death."
William acted as if he hadn't heard. He wouldn't let anything happen to Isabella. He would get her treatment right away, and she would get better soon.
Donny grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. The bodyguards immediately rushed forward and pulled him away.
"William, you can't take her. You're the cause at the heart of her illness. Let her go."
His voice was drowned out by the rain as William got in the car with Isabella and left.
Back at the hospital, William watched the doctor clean her terrible wounds. Each disinfection, each wipe, felt like a dull knife cutting into his heart.
Isabella remained unconscious, her brows tightly furrowed. Even in her sleep, she murmured softly, "Dad... please, please wake up."
William crouched by the bed, gently holding her ice-cold hand against his face, trying to warm her up.
But no matter how tightly he held it, her hand remained just as cold—cold enough to frighten him.
After treating the wounds, the doctor instructed, "Mr. Spencer, Ms. Tudor is extremely weak, and with the rain and cold, her condition is quite bad. We need to monitor for fever and any brain injury."
William's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice rasping, almost unrecognizable. "Use whatever means necessary—just make sure she wakes up."
After the doctor left, only the regular beeping of machines remained in the room. William stood by the bed, motionless, watching over her. Rain dripped from his soaked hair, splashing into rings on the floor.
He didn't dare close his eyes, afraid that when he opened them again, she would be like that shadow in the storm—impossible to hold onto.
Dylan walked in with clean clothes.
"Mr. Spencer, you should change first."
William remembered how Isabella had been soaked in that water dungeon for days. What did it matter if he got a little rain and wore wet clothes now?
Right now, he wished he could experience double all the suffering Isabella had endured.
"How's the investigation going?"
His mind was entirely focused on what Dylan was investigating.
Dylan nodded. "I've found everything."
He took out a thick file of documents and gently placed them in front of William.
William picked up the top sheet. The moment his fingers touched the paper, his expression darkened.
The most prominent line read: Isabella, age seven, first psychological treatment record.
"Seven years old?" William's brows knitted together. "What could have been wrong with her at that age?"
Dylan said in a low voice, "The record is vague, only mentioning severe fear, nighttime awakening, and persistent nightmares. The attending doctor disappeared after returning home to visit family recently, as if deliberately hidden."
Hearing this, William's frown deepened. What had happened back then to cause such abnormal symptoms in young Isabella?
Dylan continued, "I checked—the Tudor family knows nothing about this. It seems only Isla knows."
William thought of Isla's attitude toward Isabella. He had always assumed her coldness was because of Beatrice's death, but could there be something else hidden?
"Keep investigating. If someone deliberately hid this doctor, there's a secret involved."
After a pause, William added, "Look into who the doctor met after returning home... You can start with Donny."
This person had been investigating Isabella's situation, so he must know something.
"Understood."
"What about Lester?"
"Found him." Dylan's tone was serious. "After Lester disappeared, his former subordinates went into hiding. We've been arresting them by name—we've caught five so far, including Zack, his cousin who worked with him the longest."
A deep chill rose in William's eyes. "Zack?"
He remembered this person. He was the one who filmed the videos in the live stream and showed his face multiple times to provoke them.
"He's been taken to the basement. His mouth is tight—he won't say anything."
William tilted his head back, his whole presence radiating menace.
"Good."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling pressure. "I'll question him myself."
Some things he needed to ask about personally.
William arranged for psychiatric specialists and the chief physician to stay in the hospital room to closely monitor Isabella's condition. He needed to root out everyone who had hurt her, one by one.
The basement.
The lighting was dim, the air thick with the smell of blood.
Zack was hanging from iron chains, his entire face swollen, his body covered in blood. He had clearly been through a round of interrogation already, yet he still stubbornly held his neck stiff, acting fearless.
But the moment he saw William, his pupils constricted sharply, and he instinctively shrank back.
William slowly walked up to him, looking down from above, his eyes like frozen poison.
"Has Lester come back?"
He needed to find out whether this person had returned.
Zack swallowed hard and hurriedly shook his head. "No, he's been missing for months. I looked for him for a long time—he must be dead."
William got his answer, but seeing this face disgusted him. He grabbed a chair nearby and smashed it at him.
The blow to Zack's head left him dizzy, and he looked at William with eyes full of fear.
"When he kidnapped Isabella twice, was someone backing him up? Think carefully before you answer, or you'll lose your chance to talk."
Zack was terrified—if he gave up Juniper now, he would die horribly, but if he didn't talk, William might kill him right now.
What should he do? Either way led to death.