Chapter 81: Would Only My Death Earn Your Forgiveness?

Isabella’s POV

The PR director hurriedly left after a cold glance from Ethan. Smart man.

I fought the urge to follow him out. Being alone with Ethan always made me feel like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

I reached for my water glass, taking a small sip to calm my nerves.

"If you can't handle this project, I'll find someone else to do it," he said, his voice deliberately severe.

I took a deep breath and tried to explain: "I deeply regret what happened, but the materials didn't meet specifications. It was impossible to achieve the design effect with those materials—"

"Spare me the excuses," he cut me off, his voice ice-cold.

I flinched, gripping my hands tightly under the table. What was this about? During the earlier meeting, he had clearly stated this wasn't my fault. Now he'd completely changed his tune?

"So you think this is my fault?" I asked, keeping my voice soft despite the indignation building inside me.

He didn't answer directly. Instead, he pulled out his phone and held it toward me. "Show me your design files."

"I submitted everything to Sawyer for approval weeks ago. You can get them from him," I replied, confused.

He narrowed his eyes. "Is that how you speak to your CEO?"

What was I supposed to say to that? Biting my lower lip, I reluctantly took out my phone and added his social media account.

"From now on, all design plans come through me first," he commanded.

He downed his drink in one gulp. "Delete my contact again, and you can consider yourself unemployed," he warned.

That's when it dawned on me. This wasn't about work at all. He was abusing his authority to maintain control over my life. This man was truly insufferable, thinking his money and power entitled him to do whatever he wanted. I gritted my teeth and sent him the files he demanded, seething inside.

"Excuse me," I stood up, forcing myself to stay calm. "I need to use the restroom."

In the bathroom, I turned on the faucet, letting cold water run over my wrists. The more I thought about what had just happened, the angrier I became. Who did he think he was? Using his position as CEO to force me to add his contact?

I dried my hands and took a deep breath, trying to compose myself before heading back. I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed the man coming toward me until we collided.

"I'm so sorry," I immediately apologized, stepping back against the wall to let him pass.

The man stopped, swaying slightly. He reeked of alcohol. When his gaze fell on me, his unfocused eyes suddenly brightened, seemingly forgetting his urgent bathroom mission.

"Hey beautiful," he slurred. "Haven't we met somewhere before?"

"I don't think so," I answered, trying to move past him. "Excuse me."

He pressed his arm against the wall, blocking my path. "Let's exchange Instagrams. We can grab dinner sometime and get to know each other."

I tried to duck under his arm, but for a drunk man, his reactions were surprisingly quick. He adjusted his position, continuing to trap me between his arms and the wall.

"Please move," I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended. Why couldn't I ever sound intimidating when I needed to?

"Just tell me your name, and I'll let you go," he insisted, leaning closer.

My heart raced. "If you don't back off, I'm calling security."

He grinned. "I'm not bothering you, just trying to make a fri—"

His words were cut short as he suddenly collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. I looked up to see Ethan standing there, his tall figure almost blocking the entire hallway light. His face wore a terrifying anger I had never seen before, the murderous glint in his eyes making me shudder.

Before the drunk man could recover, Ethan grabbed him by the collar and landed another punch, making his lip bleed. He collapsed to the ground, motionless.

"Stop!" I grabbed Ethan's sleeve. "Don't hit him anymore!"

Ethan's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his eyes as dark as the night sky before a storm. His gaze fell on my hand clutching his sleeve, a complex emotion I couldn't decipher flashing in his eyes.

"He's just drunk," I quickly explained. "He didn't really hurt me, he just wanted my contact information."

I worried about the situation escalating further. "Horizon Innovations CEO Attacks Man in Upscale Restaurant" was definitely not a headline any company needed. Ethan's career and reputation would be affected.

Ethan suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip tight enough to leave a bruise. His eyes were rimmed with red, anger continuously radiating from him.

I winced in pain, looking up at him in confusion. Why was he angry with me?

"Isabella," he said, each word sharp and precise, "he was harassing you, and after just two punches, you feel sorry for him? You forgive him? You even defend him?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You forgave Joshua. You forgave James," his voice grew more intense. "You would even forgive this stranger. But you refuse to forgive me."

His grip tightened, sending pain shooting up my arm. What was he talking about? When had I ever forgiven what Joshua did? What was he raving about now?

"I died once before your eyes, and that wasn't enough for you. I was sent to jail because of you, and that wasn't enough," his voice dropped to a painful whisper. "Tell me, Isabella, would only my death earn your forgiveness?"

The raw pain in his voice cut through my anger. I stared into his reddened eyes and felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy.