Chapter 75: Forced Kiss Again

Isabella's POV

"He doesn't live here," I pointed at the villa next door. "He has his own place. You can ask his bodyguard for help."

"James isn't around, and I don't have the passcode to his place," Samuel looked like he was about to collapse, nearly stumbling as he spoke. "Please, help me get him inside."

I remembered how Ethan had jumped off the bridge yesterday, and his usual high-and-mighty attitude—seeing him in this state was actually somewhat satisfying. But damn it, I just couldn't leave someone in trouble.

"Fine," I sighed, moving to Ethan's other side and placing his arm over my shoulder as we headed toward the main house.

God, he was heavy. He reeked of alcohol—how much had he drunk? His entire weight pressed against me, and I nearly lost my balance.

We had only taken a few steps when Ethan suddenly turned his head. Those drunken eyes looked at me with a moment of surprising clarity.

"Isabella?" he called my name softly, his voice hoarse, carrying an unusual gentleness.

What happened next was completely unexpected. He withdrew his arm from Samuel's shoulder and suddenly lunged toward me. I lost my balance from the force of his weight, crying out in surprise as we both tumbled off the path and fell onto the adjacent lawn.

I was pinned beneath him, the air forced from my lungs. His entire body pressed down on me, heavy as a mountain. I felt like my bones might shatter.

"Ethan, get off!" I pushed against his shoulders, but he didn't budge an inch. The strong smell of alcohol on him made me uncomfortable.

Samuel stood frozen on the path, staring at us in disbelief, making no move to help. This guy!

"Samuel, help me!" I almost shouted, my voice strained from the pressure on my chest.

"Oh, right," he responded halfheartedly, but still didn't move.

Ethan raised his head, and those eyes—usually sharp and cold—now appeared uncharacteristically soft. He was so close I could see the stubble on his chin, and his hot breath tickled my face.

"Isabella," he called again, in a tone that made my heart skip a beat.

Before I could react, he suddenly leaned forward, his warm lips immediately covering mine. My entire body froze, my mind going blank. The faint smell of alcohol mixed with his unique scent overwhelmed me as he forcefully deepened the kiss with undisguised aggression. I couldn't move at all, forced to endure his dominant and passionate plundering.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Samuel standing there shocked, his mouth open, unable to speak. He instinctively took half a step forward, then stopped, clearly unprepared for this situation and unsure what to do.

I frantically tried to break free, but Ethan's large hand firmly held my jaw in place. "Mmph!" His breath dominated mine, his intoxicated kiss full of possessiveness, too forceful to refuse. The subtle hint of alcohol lingered between his lips and tongue, penetrating my senses, making me dizzy. His body temperature was burning hot, as if it might melt me, and my heart was beating so wildly it felt like it might explode from my chest.

Finally, Samuel snapped out of it and pulled Ethan away. I scrambled to my feet, my chest heaving rapidly, my cheeks burning.

Samuel had the audacity to smile apologetically: "He's really drunk. Don't take it personally."

I wiped my mouth vigorously with the back of my hand, as if that could erase the mark of his kiss. I glared at Ethan, but he was completely limp in Samuel's arms now—what could I do about him in this state?

Without a word, I turned angrily and walked toward the main house, my fists clenched tightly.

Behind me, I heard Samuel's voice: "Are you really drunk or are you faking it?"

Damn him. He bullies me when he's sober and takes advantage when he's drunk. This man is absolutely terrible.

A few hours later, I was in the elevator at Black Group headquarters, trying to calm my breathing. Forcibly kissed in the morning, now dealing with my mother's crisis—this day was unbearable.

The elevator reached the executive floor, and I stepped out with Reynolds, the professional lawyer I'd hired. When my mother saw us enter, especially noting the lawyer's serious face, her smile instantly froze.

I told her about what Olivia had said, and with Reynolds' help, we examined her recent work details and some signed documents, discovering the problem was indeed more serious than imagined.

"That's impossible," she said quietly. "I don't remember signing any of these."

"Someone is setting you up," I said directly. "5.8 billion has been transferred out."

The lawyer pointed to the report: "It was moved in five transfers to three places: your ex-husband's account, a high-end male escort club called 'Gentleman's Club Manhattan,' and an offshore account in the Cayman Islands."

My mother's face turned pale with fear. "Isabella, what should I do? I've never done anything illegal, and I would never betray Jasper."

In truth, I had warned her early on that the position of Black Group's Vice President was beyond her capabilities, especially in this family where everyone was looking to gain maximum benefit.

"Mom, calm down," seeing her in tears, I felt a mix of emotions. "You need to tell Jasper the truth and actively seek his help."

"What if he doesn't believe me?" Her eyes were full of worry.

"He will," I answered with certainty.

The family meeting that evening was suffocatingly tense. Everyone's expressions were clearly visible in the living room.

Jasper sat in the main seat, his expression dark as iron. The whole family was present, including Owen and his wife Juniper, and even Nora, who usually stayed out of family affairs, sat upright with a piercing gaze. Olivia pretended to be scrolling through her phone, feigning disinterest.

Only Ethan hadn't arrived yet.

My mother sat beside Jasper, her fingers intertwined. I knew she was afraid that this storm might destroy the luxury life she had carefully cultivated.

The oppressive silence lasted for nearly an hour. Just when I felt I could hardly breathe, the door opened.

Ethan walked in, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

The once handsome man now looked even more tired than this morning, the stubble on his chin more noticeable, his eyes deep and dark. He appeared more weathered, yet increasingly mature and charismatic.

As I looked at him, the sensation of that morning's kiss still lingered on my lips, and my heart inexplicably began to race again.