Chapter 64: Crossing Boundaries

Ethan's POV

Kissing her wasn't part of my plan. I barged into her grandmother's room just because I was pissed about that damn cow manure prank—seriously, compared to all the shit I've done to her over the years, this was nothing.

The moment I had her cornered against the wall, her lips so close, trembling slightly as she tried to explain, my mind just went blank.

Then, I kissed her.

I felt her freeze completely, but I couldn't stop myself. God, her lips were softer and sweeter than I'd imagined. I wasn't satisfied with just a taste; my tongue explored her mouth, greedily savoring every bit of sweetness. The feeling was addictive as hell, like sampling the world's most intoxicating wine and getting hooked with just one sip.

She started struggling, making muffled protests against my mouth, but that only made me want to conquer her more. One hand was enough to control both of hers, while my other hand cupped her chin, leaving her nowhere to escape. A voice in my head warned me I was crossing a line, but I couldn't care less. I wanted more, more of her.

Her body felt so soft, so warm against mine as I pressed closer, like I wanted to meld her into my very bones. The more she resisted, the more I wanted to make her surrender, to make her feel this electric connection between us—this insane attraction I couldn't even explain to myself.

Until I felt something wet. Tears.

Reality crashed back like ice water dumped over my head. I had to stop, but couldn't bear to pull away completely, my forehead still pressed against hers, breathing hard. Her tears kept flowing, falling in big drops, and watching her cry made my heart pound like it would burst out of my chest. Not just from desire, but something else—a wrenching guilt and complicated feelings I'd never experienced before.

Slowly releasing her hands, I stepped back. Her reaction was much more violent than I'd expected—she shoved me hard, then slapped me across the face with a stinging crack.

My cheek burned, but what hurt more was inside. Honestly, I've been in fights, been hit before, but nothing ever felt like this—being slapped by Isabella hurt in ways that made no sense. It wasn't physical pain, but knowing I'd pushed her to this point, when she probably had never lashed out at anyone like this in her life.

"Asshole!" she cried out.

Watching her frantically wiping her lips with the back of her hand, like she was trying to erase every trace of my kiss—that hurt worse than her slap.

"Isabella, I..." I stammered, at a complete loss for words.

"Shut up, don't say my name," her voice shook, "You're a complete jerk. You once swore you'd never hurt me again, not even a little bit."

She was right. I had promised that. After years of tormenting her, I'd sworn I wouldn't cause her even the slightest discomfort. And now? I'd done this to her over a childish prank.

"You broke your word," she continued, tears streaming down her face, "Just because of something so trivial, you humiliate me like this?"

I wanted to tell her this wasn't humiliation, that my kiss had nothing to do with punishment. But she wasn't finished.

"I'm Aria's daughter," her voice rising, "You called me dirty, worthless, you were disgusted by me, hated me, bullied me, you looked down on me to your core!"

Each word stabbed me like a knife. Yes, I'd done all of it. I'd turned her life into hell because I couldn't face my own feelings, because blaming her for my family's problems was easier than facing the truth.

"I feel the same way," she clenched her fists, "I hate you so much! Why did you kiss me? You could hit me, yell at me, but why humiliate me like this?"

She thought I kissed her to humiliate her? That hit me like a punch to the gut. That wasn't it at all. I kissed her because... damn, I couldn't even explain it to myself. I'd wanted to do it for so long, longer than I cared to admit. But how could I explain when I didn't understand it myself?

Watching her cry so brokenly, my heart shattered. I wanted to reach out and wipe away her tears, pull her into my arms, apologize—not just for the kiss, but for everything. Every cruel word, every cold look, every time I made her feel worthless.

But I didn't. My hand raised halfway, then fell.

She curled up on the floor, hugging her knees, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. I stood there, useless, knowing anything I said would only make things worse. So I turned and left, quietly closing the door behind me.

Isabella's POV

As soon as he left, I completely broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't understand why his kiss hurt me so deeply, feeling less like physical violation and more like he'd torn open an old wound.

Exhausted from crying, I crawled into bed and fell asleep immediately, not even changing my clothes.

When Grandma woke me for dinner, I was still in a daze. My eyes felt dry and irritated, stinging when I rubbed them.

"What's wrong, child? Your eyes are all red and swollen," she asked with concern.

"Probably allergies," I lied, "I'll find some eye drops."

Entering the living room, I couldn't help looking around, both dreading and hoping to see him still there. But the room contained only Grandma and a simple dinner.

"Grandma, where... where is he?" I asked quietly, avoiding saying his name.

"Oh, Ethan left," she answered, "Said he needed to get back to New York to be with his family for the holidays. He left a lot of money too, several thousand dollars! I didn't even have time to refuse before he drove away."

I felt strangely empty inside. He just... disappeared like that?

I went back to my room to check, confirming he really was gone. "This is for the best. He never belonged here anyway."

Back at the dinner table, I put drops in my eyes. Grandma served me a large piece of meat, but I had no appetite at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel his lips, making my stomach churn with anger.

"Will you go back to work in New York after the holidays?" Grandma asked.

"No," I said firmly.

"Why not?" she looked at me, puzzled, "Doesn't Ethan treat you well? Your mother is there too."

I almost laughed out loud. If she knew the truth—how he tormented me, violated me. But all she saw was his charming mask, generous gifts, and surface-level kindness.

"I want to find work closer to home," I evaded, "So I can visit you more often."

She smiled: "Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

Just then my phone rang. Seeing Sophie's name instantly lifted my mood.

"Sophie!" I smiled genuinely for the first time.

"Isabella," her voice was tense and excited.

"Happy New Year in advance!" I said.

"Forget about that," she urgently interrupted, "Check online right away, you've gone viral! You're in the news!"

"I'm in the news?" I was dumbfounded, "What are you talking about?"

How could someone as obscure as me possibly make the news?