Chapter 108 Memory Lost: Ambrose Forgot Her
Satisfaction spread across William's face, the look of a man in complete control. He gripped Isabella's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were ice.
The only thing that displeased him was that she still kept her eyes shut, her brow furrowed tight.
"Open your eyes." His voice was low, brooking no argument. "I want you to see exactly what you're doing."
He wanted her to understand just how worthless she was in his eyes.
Isabella slowly opened her eyes. The sight before her—so close, so immediate—sent her stomach lurching. She nearly retched.
Cold swept through her entire body.
The humiliation of her position crushed down on her.
What shamed her even more was that she continued doing what she had seen in those sex videos, using her tongue on his glans, drawing a shudder from William's body as pleasure rolled through him in waves.
William noticed her technique, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "Isabella, you're such a whore. You learn how to please a man fast enough."
She endured his filthy words, moving mechanically.
His hand tightened its grip on her head, forcing his cock to the back of her throat until she could barely breathe.
"Remember this—you're mine for the rest of your life. I'm the only one who'll ever fuck you. You'll only ever service me!"
Isabella could only nod slightly. William grabbed her head and picked up speed, thrusting in and out of her mouth until he let out a low growl and shot his bitter semen down her throat. Only then did he withdraw with satisfaction.
Isabella's body trembled. Her stomach churned violently, but she had to hold it together until William left. One wrong move, anything that displeased him, and it could all come crashing down.
Finally, William stopped. Like a man finishing a ritual of possession, he pulled on his pants, zipped them up slowly, straightened his clothes, and patted her pale cheek.
"Stay right here. Don't leave without my permission."
She nodded mechanically, praying he'd just go.
William adjusted his tie, his lust satisfied, and walked out of the room.
The moment he left, Isabella bolted for the bathroom, gripping the sink as she dry-heaved violently.
The nausea nearly knocked her off her feet.
She pressed her hand against her throat, desperate to expel the suffocating sensation and everything in her stomach.
The retching grew worse. First came bile, then streaks of blood.
A nurse heard the commotion and rushed into the bathroom. Her eyes widened at the blood in the sink.
"Ms. Tudor… what happened?"
Isabella turned, forcing out an excuse. "It's nothing. Don't worry. Just a nosebleed."
She wiped her nose. "Probably the dry air."
The nurse, seeing how pale she looked, helped her back to bed.
"I should get a doctor to examine you."
"No need, thank you. I'm just hungry. Could you get me some soup?"
Hearing that Isabella wanted to eat, the nurse nodded immediately. "Of course. Rest here, I'll go to the cafeteria."
Isabella nodded faintly. Once the nurse left, she collapsed against the pillow and released a long breath.
She didn't care what happened to herself. Her only prayer was that Ambrose would wake up safely.
Over the following days, Isabella asked the nurse daily about Ambrose's condition. When she heard he was out of danger, she managed a few bites of food. When she heard his wound had gotten infected and he'd spiked a fever, she couldn't even drink water all day.
Her mind drifted, as though her soul had left her body. She barely heard what people said to her—only the name "Ambrose" could break through.
William visited several times during this period. Each time, he forced himself on her brutally before leaving.
The William who was so cold and arrogant in public became an animal who couldn't control his urges around her.
Even he didn't understand it. He despised Isabella—so why did he lose all reason in her presence?
A week later, the nurse told her Ambrose had regained consciousness and could even walk around.
The news made Isabella thank God silently, over and over.
She was convinced her prayers had kept him safe.
The next day, medical staff came to her room for an examination.
Isabella sat on the hospital bed like an exquisite doll, her eyes hollow and empty. The doctor removed her bandages and changed her dressings. She showed no reaction.
"Isabella."
That familiar voice made her eyes suddenly brighten. She looked up sharply to find not her attending physician standing before her, but Thomas.
Relief flashed across her face. She had had no idea what had happened to Thomas, whether William had made him suffer.
She had had no way to find out, didn't dare ask. She could only pray silently for his safety.
Seeing him now, the weight finally lifted from her chest.
"I'm sorry it took so long to come. You must have been worried sick."
Tears spilled down Isabella's cheeks instantly. Her voice broke. "You shouldn't have done this. It was too dangerous."
This time only Ambrose had been hurt. If something had happened to Thomas too, Isabella didn't know what she would have done.
Thomas tried to comfort her. "It's over now. We just underestimated William's reach. His power runs deeper than we thought."
Isabella listened, then said urgently, "Don't do anything like this again. I won't leave him. If you don't listen to me, I'll end my life right in front of you."
It was the only way to make them stop. She couldn't let anyone else risk themselves for her.
Thomas smiled sadly. "We did this to give you freedom, to make you happy. How could we drive you to suicide? If you don't want our help, we won't force it."
But Isabella still felt no reassurance. The anxiety gnawed at her.
"Ambrose had only just returned from the brink of death. I don't want to see you wheeled into the ER next."
"You won't. I promise."
Thomas sighed softly, his expression growing grave as he looked at her.
Isabella immediately sensed something wrong. "What happened?"
Thomas frowned, hesitating before deciding to tell her.
"Before I came to see you, I visited Ambrose. There's been a complication."
Isabella's heart seized. "What kind of complication? What's wrong with Ambrose?"
Thomas took a deep breath. "Don't panic—it's not his injuries. It's… he's lost his memory."
"Lost his memory?" Isabella's brow furrowed. She paused, then felt an unexpected sense of relief wash over her. "So he doesn't remember me anymore?"
Thomas nodded. "Right. He's forgotten everyone, including you. Manuel's actually happy about it. Says it's a blessing in disguise—now Ambrose won't be obsessed anymore."
Ambrose had always been calm and controlled, living his entire life by the rules. Isabella was the only thing he'd ever been reckless about.
This amnesia might actually be his salvation.