Chapter 33 She Still Knows Shame
William had already warned her—do not upset Juniper. Every move she made now crossed that line.
Isabella did not refuse again. She followed them into the gallery.
She trailed behind slowly, watching them laugh together, shoulder to shoulder as they admired the paintings, chatting idly—as if she did not exist.
Isabella thought to herself, 'Beatrice, do you see? Your precious William is so happy. I have not let you down.'
Juniper deliberately leaned against William's shoulder, glancing back at Isabella.
She saw nothing on Isabella's face. No expression. Not even a flicker of light in her eyes.
She really did not care at all?
Impossible.
If she did not care, why would she have married William in the first place?
"Isabella, what do you think of this one? Pretty festive, right?"
Isabella's gaze fell on the painting—the colors were too loud, too garish. It would overwhelm any living room.
"Try another one."
She was only offering honest advice, but William's expression darkened.
Juniper pointed to a painting of wild lilies.
"Isabella, these lilies are so elegant. They would look perfect in a living room, don't you think?"
Too much white. It would make a new home feel cold.
"Try another one."
Juniper's smile stiffened. William's face turned stormy.
Juniper picked several more paintings, and Isabella rejected them all. Juniper's expression turned helpless.
"I guess my taste is just terrible. Maybe I should get a different gift."
Isabella pointed to a landscape painting and was about to speak when William shoved her hard.
"What the hell are you showing off?"
Isabella stumbled backward, slamming into the wall. Her arm caught on a protruding nail, tearing the skin. Blood dripped onto the floor. Juniper rushed forward.
"Isabella, are you okay?" She whirled on William, furious. "You can't do that—she's hurt."
William pulled her back. "Leave her. People like her need to learn their place."
Juniper tried to go to her again, but William was already dragging her toward the exit.
A staff member hurried over, eyes widening at the growing pool of blood on the floor.
"Miss, are you all right? Should I call an ambulance?"
Isabella's face remained blank. She did not even flinch, as if the injured person was not her at all.
"No. Do you have a Band-Aid?"
The only thing keeping her upright was the knowledge that she still had work to finish.
"Yes, please sit down. I'll get one."
The staff member returned with a first aid kit and handed her iodine. "That cut's deep. You need to disinfect it, or it will get infected. Let me help you."
"Thank you, but I'm fine." Isabella took two Band-Aids and left.
The staff member watched her go, feeling like she had just seen a ghost—something without warmth, without life.
Isabella wiped away the blood with a tissue, applied the Band-Aids, and finally stopped the bleeding.
By the time she finished her fieldwork and returned to the office, it was already past closing time. She went back to her desk and continued working, organizing all the data.
When her hand finally left the mouse, pale light was seeping through the windows. The clock on her computer read 6:00 a.m.
Her clothes still bore the stains of blood. If her coworkers saw it, there would be questions.
She had time. She went back to the villa and took a shower.
When she peeled off the Band-Aid, the wound was pale and waterlogged. She replaced it with a fresh one, then went downstairs and boiled a few eggs.
She did not mind the taste of eggs anymore. She could eat a lot of them now.
Isabella arrived at the office and handed the completed data report to Thomas.
He was pleased, his expression brightening.
"Good work. The Spencer Group should not have any issues with this. Take it over to their project manager and finalize the next steps."
Isabella hesitated. "Mr. Spencer, is there any way I don't have to go?"
Thomas paused. "Is there a problem?"
Isabella shook her head. "No. I'll go now."
She knew there was no escape. William wanted to make her suffer. If anyone else delivered the report, he would reject it anyway.
Until the project was finished, she was trapped.
Isabella arrived at the Spencer Group and ran into Dylan returning from a meeting. She was not turned away. He led her straight to William's office.
William sat in his chair, radiating icy hostility.
He glanced up at her for a split second, then looked back down, as if she were nothing but air.
Isabella spread the report open and placed it in front of him.
"Mr. Spencer, this is the updated data report. Please review it."
Without a word, William swept his hand across the desk, scattering the papers across the floor. They hit her chest and slid down before landing at her feet.
"Not good enough."
The edge of one sheet sliced her finger, drawing blood. She did not react. She just bent down slowly and started picking up the pages.
"Mr. Spencer, I stayed up all night verifying this data. If there's an issue—"
"The issue is you." William cut her off, standing and looming over her. "I already warned you not to upset Juniper. Why did you deliberately humiliate her?"
"I didn't."
"You didn't?" William grabbed her arm—right where the nail had torn her skin yesterday. Pain lanced through her, and her body tilted involuntarily. "You shot down everything she picked. You made her feel stupid. Did that make you feel good?"
Isabella shook her head. She really had not meant to.
"You think you're so cultured, so refined. You used that to make her feel small. Do you have any idea how upset she was?"
Juniper had been miserable all afternoon yesterday. It was obvious Isabella's words had gotten to her.
William had wanted to deal with Isabella last night. He had even gone back to the villa, but she had hidden at the office and never came home.
Now she had walked right into his hands. He was not going to let her go.
"Isabella, you always think you're so much better than everyone else."
Isabella shook her head. "I don't."
She had never thought she was better. She was nothing. Dust.
William shoved her onto the desk and tore open her blouse. She gasped and covered her chest with her hands.
So she still had some sense of shame. William laughed—a cold, cruel sound.
"You want me to approve the next phase? Then use your body to please me. Make me happy, and the project continues."
No.
Isabella's instinct was to resist. She refused.
"No… don't…"
William's expression turned vicious, his voice sharp with threat. "Then I'll call the project team right now and cancel the contract with Starlight Corp."
He pulled out his phone and started to dial. Isabella lunged forward and grabbed his hand.
"Don't…"
William stared at her. Isabella sat up slowly and began unbuttoning her blouse. Then she reached for her pants.
William's brow furrowed. "You're disgusting. You'd really trade your body for a contract."
Isabella said nothing. She just bent over the desk and waited for him to take what he wanted—to use her, to hurt her, to let out whatever rage was burning inside him.