Chapter 57 Do Not Defy Him
Beatrice's death had torn a hole through the family that nothing could ever mend. Even now, none of them had truly escaped its shadow.
Isabella was no different.
She loathed herself for surviving. She believed she should have died in that fire. If Beatrice had lived instead, her family—and William—wouldn't have been consumed by grief.
"Isabella, you were hurt… I never came to see you. Don't hold it against me," Benjamin said quietly.
He had wanted to visit her many times, but every attempt ended with Isla catching him and cutting him down with sharp, unforgiving words. Since losing their eldest daughter, Isla's body and mind had been fragile. Benjamin didn't want to push her over the edge.
Isabella shook her head. "It's alright. I don't mind."
His voice thickened. "You have to heal. Take care of yourself."
She felt a flicker of warmth. Benjamin cared.
"I will, Dad."
"Last night… I know you came to my room."
Isabella froze, meeting his eyes. "Can I visit you again? Even if it's just two hours… one hour… I only want to talk."
Benjamin nodded. "As long as your mother doesn't find out, we can meet."
He felt guilty—she was his daughter too—but fear for Isla's state had kept him away.
For the first time in a long while, Isabella felt light. Her father hadn't abandoned her.
When the time was up, someone came to take Benjamin away. He gave her a subtle hand gesture before leaving, and the warmth settled deep in her chest.
"Mr. Spencer… how do I thank you?" she asked.
"If you must thank me, don't call me that. Use my name."
She looked into his steady eyes. "Thomas… thank you."
He smiled, wheeling her back to her room. "I found you a new nurse. Heal up. Your father will rest easier."
"I will. I won't let him worry."
That night, the nurse brought chicken soup. Isabella drank it all. She needed strength to care for Benjamin.
The next day, they met in the therapy room. Isabella could walk a few steps now, and she couldn't wait to show him.
"Dad, look. I can walk. The doctor says I'm recovering well—soon I'll be able to move normally."
Benjamin's face softened. "Good. Promise me you'll eat, sleep, and no matter what happens… you'll keep living."
Keep living.
Beatrice had said those same words once.
"Dad, you'll stay with me forever, right?"
"Foolish girl… I'll grow old someday. I'll have to leave."
Isabella shook her head. "No. I don't want you to leave."
Her fear cut into him. "Alright… I promise."
She smiled then, rubbing his shoulders. "How are you today? Does it still hurt?"
"Much better. William had the doctors use the best medicine."
At William's name, her hands stilled. The smile slipped away.
Benjamin sighed. "I know you once cared for him… but love can't be forced. If you're unhappy, walk away."
So he knew. But her feelings for William had died the day Beatrice did.
Two hours passed quickly. Benjamin was taken away again, and Isabella still felt a quiet joy—she could see him every day now, talk to him. Life had a sliver of hope again.
Until she returned to her room.
William was there.
The air was heavy around him, his expression dark. "Where were you?"
He hadn't spoken to her in days. He'd only come to see if she was still breathing. When she'd vanished for two hours and the nurses claimed ignorance, curiosity had dragged him here.
And now she walked in, smiling.
What could make her smile? What gave her the right?
Her smile vanished, leaving her face an unreadable mask.
"Answer me. Why so quiet?"
"I went for a walk," she said.
William beckoned her with a single finger. "Come here."
She stepped closer. His hand shot out, clamping around her throat, dragging her in.
"A walk?" His voice was ice. "One more chance. Tell me the truth. If I have to find out myself… you'll regret it."
She stayed silent. She couldn't tell him she'd seen Benjamin—if she did, it would never happen again. And if Isla found out, there would be hell. Isla couldn't take another shock.
William's grip tightened. Her skin paled, her breath caught.
"Not talking? Fine. I'll have someone check."
He could find out easily.
Isabella shook her head. He couldn't be allowed to dig.
"Let her go!"
The voice cut through the tension. Thomas strode in, eyes blazing. "William, she's your wife. She's injured. How can you treat her like this?"
William's mouth curved in a slow, dangerous smile. His gaze flicked between them.
"So… you went to see him. No wonder you're so happy. Isabella, you haven't changed at all. I wonder… does your boss know what kind of woman you are?"
She knew what was coming. He'd send those filthy videos to Thomas—just like he'd used Ambrose against her.
William would never let her breathe.
He laughed at her calm expression. "You don't care? Then I'll send them now."
Thomas stepped forward. "William, let her go! You call yourself a man, hurting a woman who's already wounded?"
William's eyes went cold. No one had ever spoken to him like that. Thomas was inviting his own ruin.
Slowly, William released her.
In the next breath, Isabella moved. She stepped into Thomas's space and slapped him hard.
"What the hell gives you the right to insult my husband? This is between us. Stay out of it."
Thomas stared at her. "Isabella, what are you—"
The second slap echoed through the room.
"Shut up. I told you not to come near me. Leave. Now."
Inside, her heart was breaking. 'I'm sorry, Thomas. Hate me if you must. Just don't forgive me.'
It was the only way—if she didn't do this, Thomas wouldn't leave alive.
She knew she was cursed. Anyone who came close ended up ruined.
William's lips curled, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Thomas… my woman at least knows whose side she's on."
He held out his hand to Isabella, his tone sharp and commanding. "Come here."