Chapter 69 Unfulfilled Desires
William saw no fear in her face. No worry. Instead, something else flickered in her eyes—relief.
Why wasn't she afraid?
He leaned close to her ear, his voice a low rasp. "I said Thomas is going to die."
Her expression stayed the same, as if his words hadn't reached her at all.
Then it hit him—she was relieved because she'd become a murderer. That meant she could pay for Thomas's death with her own life.
She wanted to die.
William's hand closed around her throat. His cock slammed deep into her pussy with brutal force.
"You want to die? I'll tell you something—it's not happening. You're going to live. You're going to carry your sins and suffer for them."
Something feral roared inside him, demanding he never stop. He gripped her waist and fucked her with savage, punishing thrusts.
He wouldn't let her die. He'd keep her alive—broken, desperate, drowning in pain.
Isabella's body lifted off the couch with each violent impact, suspended in midair.
William moved like a predator that never tired, pouring every ounce of his rage into her.
The couch scraped across the floor. Isabella's breathing grew shallow and weak.
Still unsatisfied, he flipped her over, forcing her to straddle him. His hands clamped down on her hips, jerking her up and down.
She was like a fragile doll coming apart at the seams.
William didn't understand why his hunger for her was endless, as if he needed to pour every drop of his fury into her body.
But it was never enough. He flipped her again, pinning her facedown on the couch. He spread her legs wide and drove his cock into her from behind. After several brutal thrusts, he finally came with a guttural groan.
He released her. Isabella slid off the couch like a puppet with cut strings.
William sat up, breathing hard, and lit a cigarette. The tightness in his chest eased slightly.
Then Isabella lifted her head. She looked right through him, as if he weren't there, and crawled toward the coffee table.
She seemed frantic, yanking open drawer after drawer.
William frowned. "What are you looking for?"
Isabella muttered under her breath. "Pills… where are the pills?"
He didn't understand at first. "What pills?"
"Birth control! I need birth control."
She finally found the bottle in one of the drawers. Her hands shook as she tried to twist the cap off, but her body was too weak. It wouldn't budge.
She was desperate, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode in her chest.
She couldn't get pregnant with William's child. She had to take the pills now.
The cap finally came off. She shook out several pills—far too many, but she didn't care. She shoved them all into her mouth and swallowed them dry.
Once the pills were down, she collapsed on the floor.
In that moment, something sharp stabbed through William's chest—a pain he couldn't name.
She was that terrified of carrying his child.
Then what was the point of keeping her here?
Shouldn't she be desperate to get pregnant, to trap him, to secure her place in his life?
Everything she did shattered every assumption he'd had about her.
William crushed out his cigarette, grabbed his clothes from the couch, and left.
The servants didn't dare come out until the noise stopped. When they finally emerged, they found Isabella naked and covered in blood, lying motionless on the floor. One of them rushed over in alarm.
"Ms. Tudor, are you all right?"
Isabella's eyes were open, but they were empty, as if she couldn't hear anything.
The servant frowned and draped a blanket over her, carefully helping her up.
Thankfully, she was light—almost weightless.
After checking her over, the servant realized the blood wasn't hers. She let out a breath of relief.
She helped Isabella back to her room. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air. Scorch marks blackened the walls.
There were two other guest rooms in the villa, but William had insisted she return to this one. He'd only replaced the bedding and curtains.
Isabella lay on the bed, staring at the charred ceiling. Tears slid down her face.
The servant sighed and left her alone.
Inside, Isabella's thoughts spiraled into despair. 'Beatrice, I'm so tired. Can I break my promise to you? I just want you to hold me.'
She was exhausted. Her eyelids felt heavy. For the first time in a long while, she wanted to sleep—and never wake up.
In the middle of the night, she dreamed of Thomas standing before her, drenched in blood. He demanded she pay with her life. He called her vile, said he regretted ever knowing her.
She knelt at his feet, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. She told him she'd die to make things right.
But Thomas refused to forgive her. He refused to let her die. He wanted her to suffer for the rest of her life.
Then his face changed. It became William's. His hand closed around her throat. He said he'd kill her to avenge Beatrice.
She couldn't breathe. Her hands clawed at his grip. Then she jolted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat.
She was naked, the sheets beneath her soaked through.
She stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. She turned on the cold water and stood under the stream, letting it pour over her from head to toe.
The icy shock brought her back to herself. Her thoughts turned to Thomas. Was he still alive?
Isabella didn't dare ask. She didn't want to contact anyone.
Ambrose was still in the hospital. Thomas's injuries were worse.
Starlight Corp had been blacklisted because of her. She'd dragged countless people down with her.
Her mother had been right. She was cursed. Someone like her didn't deserve to live.
But she couldn't die. She couldn't break her promise to Beatrice. She had to keep living.
Over the next few days, William didn't appear. No one contacted her.
Isabella stayed in bed, occasionally forcing herself to eat a few boiled eggs or drink some milk—just enough to keep herself alive.
At the end of the month, Juniper sent her a message: [Tomorrow's my birthday party. Don't you dare miss it.]
Juniper was making her move.
Isabella didn't know what she was planning.
She knew it was a trap. But she had to go. Her parents would be there. William would be there. If she angered Juniper, they might get hurt.
The next evening, Isabella put on a dress and went to the hotel where Juniper was hosting her party.
The ballroom blazed with light and thrummed with guests.
She walked in and saw Juniper surrounded by admirers, glowing like a princess.
Juniper's father had flown in from abroad. Isabella's parents were there too.
William stood behind Juniper. She looked like she had everything.
Juniper's gaze found her. She waved enthusiastically. "Isabella! Come here!"
Isla's face darkened the moment she saw her. "Juniper, why would you invite her on such a happy occasion? She's bad luck."
Benjamin frowned, his expression conflicted.
Juniper's voice was gentle. "Godmother, don't say that about Isabella. She's family too. I wanted her to celebrate with me. Please don't make things difficult for her."
Isla sighed, her expression softening as she looked at Juniper. "You're too kind-hearted. Fine. For your sake, I won't make trouble for her today."