Chapter 22 What Exactly Is Going On with You and Ambrose?
William stood in the hospital doorway, fury burning in his eyes, sharp enough to cut her down.
He had mobilized every resource of the Spencer family, scouring the entire city for her. From yesterday, when he had gone into those woods himself, to tracking her down to this hospital, his chest had been tight with frustration hammering in his skull.
He had thought she was dead. Instead, she was here, chatting easily with another man.
Her smile made him sick to his stomach.
What right did she have to smile?
What had she done to deserve happiness?
William's fists clenched, knuckles cracking. He raised his foot and kicked the door open without hesitation.
The door slammed against the wall hard enough to make it shudder.
Isabella's smile froze instantly, panic flashing across her face—the first spark of life he had seen there in days.
Ambrose sensed danger immediately. He stepped between Isabella and the intruder, watching this uninvited guest warily.
"Who are you?"
Ambrose had spent most of these years abroad. He did not recognize the man in front of him, but everything about him screamed trouble.
William's gaze swept past him dismissively before settling on Isabella, a cold smile curling his lips. He walked in slowly, ignoring Ambrose's defensive stance, moving straight to the bedside. He reached out, his touch deceptively gentle as his fingers grazed her face.
"Isabella," his voice came out low and rough, deliberately laced with concern, "I have been searching for you all night. Turns out someone brought you to the hospital."
Faced with this sudden show of "care," Isabella's expression shifted from blank to terrified. She knew this was not concern—it was another kind of threat.
Ambrose could see they knew each other, but Isabella's reaction was all wrong.
"What is your relationship with her?" he asked, not backing down.
William's hand moved to Isabella's shoulder, pulling her slightly toward him, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise bone.
Isabella trembled, struggling to stay upright as that deceptively gentle, bone-chilling voice said, "Isabella, tell him what we are to each other."
Under Ambrose's watchful gaze, Isabella lowered her eyes, unable to meet his face.
"He's..." She could not force out the word "husband." The pressure on her shoulder intensified like a warning. Finally, she managed in a shaking voice, "My husband."
"What?" Ambrose thought he had misheard. "You're married?"
He was shocked. Half a year without contact, and she had gotten married.
"When did this happen? I never heard anything about it."
Better that he had not. Isabella did not want him knowing she had married her sister's lover.
"Last month."
Her voice was thin as a fraying thread.
A flash of disappointment crossed Ambrose's face before his expression smoothed over, but he noticed something was off. If they were newlyweds, why was there no warmth between them?
More importantly, when William appeared, Isabella had been afraid.
The Isabella he remembered—full of dreams, always laughing—now had no light left in her face.
He looked at William, not bothering to hide his disapproval.
"If you are her husband, you should be taking care of her. How could you let her collapse at a cliff edge? Do you know how dangerous that was? The doctor said her back injury is serious and needs attention. Her feet are injured too—you should be carrying her when she goes out."
Isabella saw the smile on William's face, and it terrified her more than his usual coldness.
When he was angry, at least she could read it.
But this smile—this was when he was most dangerous.
She wanted to make Ambrose stop, but he kept going. "She has multiple lacerations, and her fingers are injured. Do you know she is a designer? Her hands are her livelihood."
William's fingers moved through Isabella's hair, each touch making her heart stutter irregularly.
"So my wife is this badly hurt. I appreciate you taking such good care of her. May I ask who you..."
"Ambrose, you should go," Isabella cut in quickly, not letting William finish. "My husband's here now. You don't need to trouble yourself anymore."
She could not let them keep talking. Could not let Ambrose know about her situation.
William shot her a subtle glance, his mouth curving. This was the first time he had seen Isabella protect someone like this.
Interesting.
Ambrose still looked uncertain, but with her husband here, he could not justify staying.
"Then take care of yourself. I'll come visit again soon."
Isabella did not look at him, just nodded slightly.
The moment the door closed, William's hand slid from her head to her throat, yanking her close.
"You care about him. Is he someone you love?"
Isabella shook her head. "No... he's just someone I knew in college. He happened to find me when I collapsed and brought me here."
"Is that so?" William's grip tightened. "Seems like you are pretty close though. Are you afraid of him knowing about us? Afraid he'll find out how pathetic you are, how you forced me to marry you at your sister's grave?"
Isabella did not respond. Even as his hand choked off her air, she did not fight back or beg. She just looked at him quietly.
William released her. She collapsed onto the bed, gasping for breath.
Watching her vacant acceptance, William straightened his suit jacket. "He probably hasn't left yet. I think it's necessary to tell him about our relationship."
He had barely turned when Isabella grabbed the edge of his jacket.
"Don't."
Ambrose was the only light left in her world. She could not let him be tainted.
William caught her hand and pinned it against the headboard, leaning in close. Isabella immediately turned her head away, her instinctive revulsion to his proximity clear.
That reaction made his rage spike. He yanked her off the bed and dragged her to the window, pressing her up against the glass.
"I won't go—if you perform well enough."
Isabella's eyes were hollow, her voice shaking. "What do you want me to do?"
"You're so good at seducing men, turning around and getting tangled up with someone else the second you get a chance. I want you to strip and press yourself up against this window. Let everyone walking by see just how shameless you are."
The hallway was right outside. Not many people passed by, but to do what he demanded—Isabella could not accept it.
This was grinding her dignity into the dirt.
"Don't want to?" William's smile turned cruel. "Then I'll do it myself."
He grabbed her thin hospital gown and ripped it open. Buttons scattered as her bra was exposed underneath. Isabella's hands flew up to cover herself, but he caught her thin wrists and slammed them against the glass.
The humiliation from that private room came flooding back. Isabella struggled desperately, her body trembling in midair, but she could not break free from his control.