Chapter 30 Who Do You Think You Are, Hitting Her?
William's gaze locked onto Scarlett like the edge of a blade—cold, sharp, and unyielding. The weight of it pressed into her chest until she couldn't breathe, her body trembling under the threat of something unseen but inevitable.
"You did this?"
His voice was low, deliberate, each word hitting her like a blow to the ribs.
Scarlett scrambled for an excuse, her voice shaking. "Mr. Spencer, I—I just thought she was too bold. I wanted to handle it for you, to put her in her place."
"Put her in her place?" William's mouth curved into something that might have been a smile, but there was no warmth in it—only ice.
Before, he'd looked at Scarlett with something close to appreciation. Now, his eyes held nothing but the promise of ruin.
"Who the hell do you think you are to touch her face?"
Scarlett's legs buckled. She crumpled to the floor, her knees hitting the marble hard.
William spoke again, his voice cutting through the room like a whip crack. Every word landed with brutal clarity.
"Hold her down. Ruin her face. Break both her hands. Make sure she remembers—that face was never hers to touch."
The security guards moved immediately. Scarlett's scream tore through the air as she clawed her way across the floor toward William's feet, her nails scraping uselessly against polished stone.
"Mr. Spencer, please—I'm sorry! You said I was beautiful, didn't you? You can't—"
"Get off me."
William's boot connected with her chest, sending her sprawling backward. He shook his foot afterward, like he'd stepped in something foul.
The guards pinned her shoulders. The first slap landed with a sickening crack. Then another. And another. Her screams turned shrill, desperate, but they didn't stop. Within seconds, her carefully made-up face was a mess of blood and swelling—her lip split, her nose gushing red, her face unrecognizable.
William's gaze swept the room. Every person in it held their breath. No one dared meet his eyes.
"Spread the word," he said, his tone flat and final. "I want the Campbell family's business wiped off the map. Three days."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Even when Isabella had been humiliated in the past, William had never reacted like this.
Ryder Campbell and Marlowe Grey burst into the room moments later, their faces draining of color when they saw their daughter's ruined face. Hearing William's words, they both dropped to their knees.
"Mr. Spencer, please—spare her," Ryder begged, his voice cracking. "I failed as a father. Punish me, not the family. I'll give you everything we have."
Marlowe crawled forward on her knees, pressing her forehead to the floor twice in rapid succession. "Please, I'll make sure she never causes trouble again. I swear it."
William didn't acknowledge them. His attention had already shifted to Isabella, standing off to the side, her expression blank, detached, as if none of this had anything to do with her.
He didn't care how others treated her. But that face—no one was allowed to touch it.
"Break her hands," he said. "Then get her out of my sight."
If William had ever been capable of mercy, he wouldn't be William.
The guards dragged Scarlett away. Ryder and Marlowe scrambled after them, their pleas fading into the hallway.
The room cleared in tense, terrified silence. William turned back to Isabella and crooked a finger at her, his voice hard as steel.
"Come here."
Isabella lifted her head. She met his eyes—still burning with residual fury—and understood immediately. He was angry. Furious, even.
She took a step forward, but Thomas moved in front of her, his tone firm. "She's badly hurt. She needs a hospital."
"Move," William growled, his voice dropping into something feral. His eyes locked onto Thomas like a predator sizing up a rival. "She's mine. You don't get a say."
Thomas didn't budge. "She's my subordinate. She follows my orders."
William's laugh was sharp and humorless. His gaze slid back to Isabella. "You listening to him now?"
Isabella slowly raised her head. Her face was a wreck—bruised, swollen, streaked with dried blood—but her expression was eerily calm. No tears. No anger. No pain. It was as if the person who'd been beaten wasn't her at all.
She gently pushed Thomas's hand away and walked toward William, each step slow and unsteady, but disturbingly obedient.
When she reached him, she lowered her eyes, standing beside him like an empty shell.
Thomas frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"
William draped an arm over her shoulder, his tone dripping with mockery. "Didn't expect your boss to care so much about you."
His hand tightened on her shoulder. Isabella flinched, just barely.
"I'm fine, Mr. Thomas Spencer," she said quietly. "Thank you for today."
Thomas said nothing.
William smirked, as if nothing had happened, and led her back into the party.
This time, no one dared speak to Isabella. No one even looked at her face.
When the event ended, she followed him to the car.
The moment she sat down, William's hand shot out and wrapped around her throat, yanking her close.
He stared at her swollen, battered face, his jaw clenched. "Useless," he hissed. "You can't even protect your own face."
Isabella looked at him, her eyes empty.
If he'd said one word when Scarlett dragged her away, none of this would have happened.
"Next time," he said, his voice low and venomous, "I'll make you pay for it myself."
She didn't respond. She wasn't sure there would be a next time.
She had too many enemies. Wherever she went, someone wanted her gone.
William's gaze traveled over her body. The dress was still striking, her makeup still intact despite the bruising. She was impossible to ignore.
"You're pathetic," he said. "Thomas seems to like you."
Isabella shook her head. "He just helped me. That's all."
"That's all?" William's laugh was cold. "He's defended you more than once. I've noticed."
As he spoke, his hand slid from her throat down to her chest, slipping beneath the neckline of her dress. His fingers were cold, deliberate, brushing against bare skin. Her pupils dilated in shock.
The driver and Dylan were still in the front seat. He couldn't force her here. Not now.
Isabella grabbed his wrist the moment his hand moved lower.
William paused, clearly surprised she'd resisted.
"What, you care about dignity now?"
Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear. "Not here... please."
A dangerous smile spread across his face, like he'd just found her weakness. He reached up and lowered the privacy partition, blocking the view from the front seat.
The sound of fabric tearing echoed in the cramped space.
Even with the partition down, the people in front could still hear.
William stared at her trembling body, unbuckling his belt. He grabbed the back of her head and forced it down toward his cock.
"Open your mouth."
Isabella's stomach turned violently. She felt like she was going to be sick.
She turned her head away, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back, prying her mouth open and shoving himself inside.
She tried to pull away. His voice was ice.
"Spit it out, and I'll send those two videos to Ambrose. I'm sure he'd love to see them."