Chapter 28 Swallowed by the Endless Night
Isabella picked up her fork, scanning the plate for something she could actually swallow. She cut off the smallest piece she could manage and slipped it into her mouth. The burn hit instantly, a sharp heat searing down her throat. She turned her head away, swallowing hard, forcing back the cough clawing at her chest.
In that moment, a pair of broad hands reached across the table. William grabbed her plate and slammed it to the floor.
The crash of shattering porcelain exploded through the restaurant, drawing every eye in the room.
Without pause, he flipped his own soup bowl, sending a wave of scalding liquid across Isabella's torso.
"If you're not going to eat, get out of my sight."
The heat bit into her skin. Isabella shot to her feet. Juniper was already pulling a napkin, blotting at the mess, her voice sharp.
"William, what the hell are you doing? You can't treat her like this."
William's gaze was a blade, cold and cutting, as if he could slice her open without touching her.
"Juniper, you're too soft. People like her aren't worth it."
"You can't say that. To me, she's still my family."
William looked at Isabella's blank face and felt only irritation. He took Juniper's hand and walked straight out of the restaurant.
Outside, Juniper kept scolding him. "William, don't be like this. Isabella didn't mean it. She's just upset because my godparents care about me now. I can understand."
William had already decided Isabella was nothing but a jealous woman, always looking for ways to humiliate Juniper. Perfect.
Inside, Isabella stared at the wreckage on the floor, then crouched down to pick up the shards.
Staff hurried over. One look at her empty eyes killed whatever reprimand they had planned. A waitress noticed her soaked clothes and quietly offered a clean set for her to change into.
Back at the office, Thalia was still in a meeting at headquarters. Isabella returned to her desk and buried herself in work.
By the time she left, she was the last one in the building. Stepping out, she saw the black Maybach idling at the curb. The driver's window slid down. William sat behind the wheel, crooking his finger.
"Come here."
The last light of sunset cut across his face, but there was no warmth in it.
Isabella walked over without expression, slid into the passenger seat, and didn't ask where they were going.
He drove to the edge of a wooded area outside the city. Without warning, he opened the door, hauled her out of the back seat, and threw her onto the ground.
"You've got nerve, making Juniper look bad. Your parents finally found something to hold onto, and you trample it."
"I didn't."
Her voice was so faint it was almost lost to the night air.
"Walk back. Think about what you did wrong. Next time you upset her, I'll make you pay."
He drove off, leaving her alone in the dark.
Isabella started walking in the direction his headlights had vanished, moving slowly until the glow was gone completely, taking with it the last scrap of hope she had.
Her phone was still in his car. There were no streetlights, only the thin wash of moonlight to guide her steps.
The night closed around her. She felt no fear, no sense of self.
"Beatrice... are you here?"
She raised a hand, touching the air as if she could find her.
Wasn't it said that in darkness, you could meet the ones you missed? Why didn't Beatrice come?
Was she angry?
Angry that Isabella had failed as William's wife.
Or angry that she had thrown away her own dreams.
A vine caught her foot. She went down hard, then stayed there, curling into herself, arms locked around her knees.
In her mind, she whispered in grief, 'Beatrice, I don't think I can take this anymore... Please, take me with you... I don't want to live.'
Morning sunlight spilled across the ground. She wasn't dead. The disappointment stung almost as much as the bruises.
Why wake up?
She didn't know how long she walked before exhaustion claimed her. A passing truck stopped and took her back to the city.
At the villa, William was sitting in the living room. He looked at her bedraggled state and let a cold smile curl his mouth.
"Learned your lesson?"
She nodded.
"There's a party tonight. Don't embarrass me."
"Alright."
She pushed open the bedroom door. On the bed sat a gift box. Inside was a vivid red dress. William always chose the most striking gowns for her to wear to events.
It made her stand out.
Anywhere, anytime, could become his stage to torment her.
By evening, they were at the Club.
Light blazed across the room. Guests filled the space.
Isabella, in the red dress and narrow heels, followed William inside.
The moment they entered, every gaze turned toward them.
Her reputation in the circle was bad, but her beauty was undeniable.
Tonight, with flawless makeup and that scarlet dress, she outshone almost every other woman in the room.
Jealous whispers grew sharper.
"Is she here to model? That's too much."
"Exactly. If I were her, I'd keep my head down. But she? She killed her own sister and still flaunts herself."
"If I were her sister, I'd rise from the grave just to curse her. Sharing a room with her is bad luck."
"Mr. Spencer must be too kind. If it were me, she'd be gone."
Isabella was used to it. She listened without a flicker of emotion, standing at William's side like a polished doll.
Their mouths spat venom, but their eyes all clung to William—top-tier power, devastatingly handsome, unmatched in the city.
That was why she had once loved him.
She felt ashamed for ever having that thought.
Loving William had been pathetic.
A bold woman approached, two champagne flutes in hand, her smile bright.
"Mr. Spencer, I'm Scarlett Campbell. We met twice before. Do you remember me?"
William glanced at her, expression flat.
Scarlett lifted her glass. "I'd like to share a drink with you. May I?"
William took the glass, clinked it lightly. "A beautiful woman like you? Of course I remember."
Scarlett's eyes lit up. She had admired him for a long time. Back then he had a partner, and she hadn't dared hope. Now, seeing someone like Isabella as his wife, why couldn't it be her?
He'd just called her beautiful. Maybe there was a chance.
"Thank you, Mr. Spencer."
William arched a brow, smiling just enough to make Scarlett's heart race.
Isabella knew that smile was a lie. His eyes hadn't even settled on Scarlett.
William needed to speak with an investor. He sent Isabella a look, telling her to move away.
She felt relief, heading toward a quiet corner to sit and avoid trouble.
But trouble found her anyway. She had barely reached the corner when Scarlett appeared again, flanked by the same women who had been whispering insults earlier.