Chapter 68 Let Me Kill Him
William didn't move. Thomas didn't move.
Isabella stood frozen, her eyes wide with terror.
No one had ever dared lay a hand on William. No one had ever landed a blow.
And that meant only one thing: a death sentence.
William was the heir to an empire built on power and fear. You didn't touch him. You didn't even risk displeasing him. People who crossed that line had a way of disappearing from the world entirely.
And Thomas had just punched him in the face.
The air seemed to thicken, as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.
Isabella's breathing slowed to nothing. It wasn't until William released her wrist that she understood—the real hunt was about to begin.
Thomas still didn't seem to grasp the gravity of what he'd done. "Isabella, don't listen to him. Just be yourself."
William laughed, slow and drawn-out, clapping his hands together. "Impressive. You've got more guts than anyone I've met. I'll have to return the favor."
Panic surged through Isabella. She knew what was coming. She lunged forward and slapped Thomas hard across the face, her voice sharp with desperation. "Are you insane? How could you hit him?"
William wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "That's nowhere near enough."
"Isabella, you don't have to be afraid of him," Thomas said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Divorce him. I'll take you away from here."
All he could think was that if she agreed to leave, she'd finally be free.
Isabella shook her head violently, trying to make him stop talking. He had no idea how much danger he was in.
William had already decided to kill him.
The door burst open. Several bodyguards flooded into the room. William raised one hand. "Take him to the roof. Beat him within an inch of his life. Then throw him off."
Isabella grabbed his arm, her hands trembling. "No. Please. Let him go. Punish me however you want, just… please."
William backhanded her across the face, his fury intensifying. "You're still begging for him? Fine. You can jump with him. Die together like some tragic lovers."
Thomas tried to move forward, but a bodyguard kicked him back down. He was no match for men trained to break bones. Within seconds, they had him pinned to the floor.
William gestured. The guards taped Thomas's mouth shut and began dragging him toward the stairwell.
Isabella scrambled to her feet and ran after them, ready to scream for help—but William's gaze stopped her cold.
He stood in the corridor and made a slashing motion across his throat. Not to her. To everyone watching.
So her screams would mean nothing.
No one in this hospital would interfere.
But she couldn't let Thomas die.
She spotted a nurse passing by, a surgical tray in her hands. On it was a scalpel. Isabella didn't think—she just moved. She snatched the blade and bolted for the roof.
When Isabella reached the rooftop, Thomas was already surrounded. The bodyguards were beating him methodically, each blow landing with sickening precision.
William leaned against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. He watched the scene with the detached interest of someone observing a play.
Thomas's mouth was still taped shut. When he saw Isabella, he shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to leave.
Isabella took a deep breath and walked to William's side. "He hit you. He deserves to die. Let me do it."
William raised an eyebrow. "Another slap? How touching."
Isabella held up the scalpel. "With this."
William waved a hand. The bodyguards stepped back.
"Oh?" He drew out the word, amused. "And what exactly do you plan to do with that?"
Isabella looked at Thomas, her eyes filled with deadly resolve. "This man has disrupted my life over and over. I've warned him. He wouldn't listen. Now he's attacked you. I'm going to kill him."
Only if she did it herself would Thomas have any chance of survival.
These men would beat him to death and throw him off the roof without a second thought.
She had told them again and again to stay away. Why hadn't they listened? Now she was forced to do this with her own hands.
She would rather drive the blade into her own chest than hurt Thomas. This was worse than dying.
But there was no other way. The only way to save his life was to destroy him herself.
William's hand landed on her head, ruffling her hair roughly. "Go on, then. Don't disappoint me."
Isabella nodded. She took a breath and walked toward Thomas, seeing the blood leaking from beneath the tape. Even though he tried to hide his pain, she could see it clearly.
In her mind, she whispered, 'I'm sorry, Thomas. Let me go to hell for this. After today, please… never come near me again.'
Isabella raised the scalpel and drove it into his chest. Then she pulled it out.
Blood splattered across her face. Her eyes burned red. She stabbed again. The blood soaked her hands.
Thomas stared at her, his eyes wide with shock, the light in them beginning to fade.
Blood poured from his mouth, breaking through the tape. He tried to speak, but no sound came. Isabella stabbed him again.
She prayed silently. She hadn't gone deep. She hoped—desperately—that he would survive. If he didn't, she would trade her life for his.
"Enough." William's voice cut through the air, laced with satisfaction.
Isabella stopped. She stood, forcing herself not to cry.
She turned and walked back to William.
He wiped the blood from her face, his smile widening. "Well done. I'll have to reward you properly."
Thomas watched her disappear, his vision darkening. Then everything went black.
William brought her back to the villa and shoved her down onto the couch.
Isabella stared at him with hollow eyes. "I… I need to shower."
She was covered in Thomas's blood. She needed to wash it off.
She didn't want William to touch her while she was still stained with it. In her mind, that would be desecrating Thomas.
William looked at her expression. In the past, he would have been disgusted. He would have told her to clean herself up first.
But now, he decided otherwise.
"No need. This is better."
Isabella's eyes widened in surprise. A man as fastidious as William, unbothered by the blood streaked across her body? He tore her shirt open without hesitation.
The blood streaked across her chest. William lowered his head and bit down.
Isabella gasped, tears sliding down her cheeks.
William stripped away her pants, then her underwear.
He lifted her thighs, positioning her beneath him, adjusting his position until it suited him. His cock pushed into her pussy, slow and deliberate.
Unlike his usual brutality, this time he took his time, watching her expression as it twisted in agony.
His cock stretched her painfully. Isabella's entire body tensed. When she saw the mockery in his eyes, she finally understood—he was doing this on purpose.
He knew how much she was suffering.
He wanted to torture her in the way she hated most.
"Your performance today was excellent," he said, his voice smooth. "Judging by how much he bled, he's probably not going to make it."
Not going to make it?
Isabella's eyes flickered. If Thomas died, she would be a murderer.
Murderers were executed.
If she was executed, it wouldn't violate Beatrice's dying wish. When she reached the other side, Beatrice wouldn't blame her.
Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. She was willing to die.