Chapter 180 Drag Her Back to Hell
She didn't want to escalate things. She just wanted to focus on the competition.
Thalia had no choice but to swallow her anger. She helped Isabella away, but not before throwing Delta a sharp look. "If there's a next time, I won't let it go."
Delta raised an eyebrow, watching them leave. A flicker of malice crossed her eyes. One plan failed. There'd be another chance.
The live broadcast from the competition was streaming directly to William's computer.
He'd only clicked on it casually, curious to see what this competition Isabella had fought so hard for was actually worth. But the first thing he saw was the glaring cut on her face.
His face hardened instantly.
Isabella's face — he might not love it, but no one else was allowed to hurt it.
"Find out how she got that injury." William's voice was cold as steel.
Dylan had anticipated this. Within minutes, he pulled up the hotel stairwell surveillance footage — Delta deliberately ramming into Isabella, trying to force her out of the competition.
William stared at the screen, his fingers tapping slowly on the desk. A cruel smile curved his lips.
"Teach her a lesson."
Dylan understood immediately. "Yes, sir. I'll handle it."
He knew full well — William might not love Isabella, but he would never allow anyone to harm what belonged to him.
At the semifinals, the cut on Isabella's face was still visible, but it didn't affect her focus.
Delta sat beside her. Seeing Isabella hadn't started drawing yet, she leaned in with a mocking whisper. "If you can't come up with anything, just quit now. Save yourself the embarrassment. Everyone remembers your scandals. No one's going to vote for you."
Isabella didn't react. She was somewhere else entirely.
It wasn't until the final hour that she finally picked up her pen.
The moment the tip touched paper, all the confusion in her eyes vanished. Only determination and tenderness remained. She drew a starry sky necklace — scattered diamonds tracing constellations, a sapphire glowing like moonlight, delicate chains light as air. Simple, but full of soul.
Forty minutes later, it was done.
The judges crowded around, their praise effusive. The live chat exploded. Everyone was captivated by the clean, heartfelt design.
Delta stared at Isabella's work, her face draining of color. Her pen pressed down hard, ink bleeding across the page. She knew. She'd lost completely.
William watched the screen, his gaze fixed on the quiet, focused Isabella.
He'd never seen her like this — stripped of submission and fear, radiating light, as if she'd become someone else entirely. For a split second, he couldn't tell if he was looking at Isabella or at the memory of Beatrice.
Then a comment in the live chat stabbed into him like a blade.
[Isabella must be so happy. So many people love her.]
Happy?
A woman who killed her own sister didn't deserve happiness.
William slammed the laptop shut, rage boiling over. He would never allow Isabella to live like this — shining, admired. She belonged in the dark, atoning for what she'd done.
The finals had only one theme: Obsession.
Isabella sat in the center of the stage, sunlight streaming through the high glass windows, bathing her in warm, golden light.
She closed her eyes slowly. All she could see was Beatrice —
Bent over her desk late at night, sketching with fierce concentration. Eyes shining when she talked about her dreams. The warmth of her embrace, steady and safe.
Beatrice's obsession had been to stand on this national stage and have the world see her designs.
And Isabella's obsession was to finish what Beatrice had started — and then, finally, let go.
She picked up her pen. The lines flowed steady and sure.
The pendant was shaped like a half-open bud, cradling a soft pearl at its center. Along the edge, she etched the symbol only the two of them had known. Beside it, a tiny diamond — like the light that used to shine in Beatrice's eyes.
In the corner, she wrote: [With my devotion, I reach for the stars — for my beloved Beatrice.]
When the design was revealed, the room fell silent. Then applause erupted like thunder.
The head judge lifted the sketch, his voice firm and resonant. "This is the most soulful, most powerful piece I've ever seen."
The voting opened. Isabella's numbers soared, crushing every other competitor by a landslide. The entire internet was celebrating her, moved by the love woven into her design.
Thalia's tears fell freely.
She felt that all of Isabella's suffering, all her pain, had finally meant something.
In the Spencer Group CEO's office, William couldn't help himself. He opened the livestream again.
On the screen, Isabella stood under the spotlight, holding her design. There was a faint glow in her eyes — something he'd never seen before. It wasn't imitation. It wasn't submission. It was Isabella herself.
That tight, aching feeling in his chest came flooding back.
Juniper pushed the door open. She saw Isabella on the screen, then noticed the strange look in William's eyes. Her chest tightened. She forced a smile. "William, you're watching Isabella's competition? She's really talented. So many people love her."
William immediately looked away, his expression cold again. "Just clever tricks. Nothing special."
"But everyone's praising her." Juniper moved closer, her tone soft but every word laced with poison. "I heard Mr. Donny Dickson has been helping her find inspiration. He loves starry skies and pearls. Maybe Isabella designed this piece just for him."
The name "Donny" was a lit fuse.
William shot to his feet, grabbing his coat, his face dark as a storm. "Get the plane ready. We're going to Riverford."
He couldn't stand the thought of Isabella's light shining for someone else. Couldn't stand another man near her. Couldn't stand the idea that she might actually be happy.
She was his. She was supposed to suffer. To atone. To be under his control.
Inside the competition hall, the awards ceremony began.
The host's voice rang out across the room. "The champion of this year's National Jewelry Design Competition — Isabella!"
The spotlight hit her. Applause roared. Flowers and cameras swarmed. Isabella clutched her design, tears finally welling in her eyes.
She thought, trembling, 'Beatrice, I did it. I stood on the stage you dreamed of. I won for you.'
At that exact moment, the doors to the hall slammed open with a deafening crash.
William strode in, dressed in black, seething with fury. His eyes locked onto Isabella under the spotlight like a predator closing in on its prey.
The room fell into chaos.
Everyone turned to stare at the man who'd just barged in, his presence suffocating.
The smile on Isabella's face froze. It crumbled slowly, replaced by a fear and despair that sank deep into her bones.
She knew. Her brief moment of light was over.
William walked toward her, step by step, each one landing like a weight on her heart.
He wasn't here to congratulate her. He was here to drag her back to hell.