His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “I will end you myself.”

Isabella Scott froze completely.

The look in Ethan Blackwood’s eyes was terrifying. It was pure, unrestrained killing intent. A silent vow of something far more terrible than mere pain.

Just as abruptly as he had seized her, his grip vanished. Isabella slumped against the car seat, gasping for air. Her entire frame shook uncontrollably.

Ethan straightened his suit jacket. He turned to the driver. His command was absolute. “Take her to the hospital.”

The driver immediately obeyed. The car engine roared to life. They pulled away without delay.

Isabella trembled, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. The phantom sensation of Ethan’s fingers on her throat lingered. And that look… It was a look she knew would torment her forever.

Back inside the estate, the living room was destroyed. Overturned furniture. Shards of glass glittering under the muted lights.

On the sofa, Isabella lay unconscious. Her face was ghostly pale. Nearby, Victoria Blackwood sat slumped. Her complexion was equally ashen. Her body trembled violently.

The moment Ethan stepped back inside, Victoria jolted from her stupor. She lunged for him, clutching his arm with desperate, shaking hands. “Ethan, please… I did nothing wrong.” Her voice cracked with panic. “When I left, her grandmother was perfectly fine. I said nothing cruel—I swear it. I was only searching for Isabella, but she wasn’t there, so I left. That is all! You must believe me!”

Her words spilled out in a frantic torrent. Her wide, fearful eyes searched his face for any hint of mercy. Ethan didn’t even blink.

He walked past her without a single word. His focus was entirely on Isabella. He bent down and gathered her into his arms. He lifted her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. His jaw tightened as he looked down at her. Unreadable emotions flickered across his features before vanishing behind his usual icy composure.

He lifted his gaze to his mother. His voice cut through the tense silence like a sharp blade. “No one harms Isabella.”

Victoria felt all the blood drain from her face. The chilling finality in his tone was unmistakable.

“Benjamin.” The door opened. Benjamin Clark stepped inside, posture rigid, awaiting orders. Ethan never took his eyes off Victoria. “Escort my mother to Cloudridge Estate. She does not return without my explicit permission.”

Benjamin gave a slight, formal bow.

“Understood, Mr. Blackwood.” He turned to Victoria, extending an arm toward the door. His voice was respectful yet utterly firm. “Mrs. Blackwood, please come with me.”

Victoria’s lips parted as if to argue. But one look at her son’s expression told her it was futile. This was not a negotiation. She swallowed hard, biting back her protests. She nodded stiffly. Then she turned on her heel and followed Benjamin out without another sound.

Ethan exhaled slowly. He carried Isabella outside, his movements steady and deliberate. The Maybach was already waiting. He opened the door and placed her carefully in the back seat.

He slid in beside her and shut the door. His voice was calm but left no room for discussion. “Drive. To the hospital.”

The car glided onto the road, merging into the quiet night.

Ethan held Isabella’s hand. His fingers tightened instinctively around hers. She was so cold. Unnaturally cold.

Without a second thought, he pressed her icy hand against his own chest. He willed his body heat to transfer to her.

Suddenly, a sharp vibration cut through the silence.

Ethan retrieved a phone from Isabella’s pocket. He glanced at the screen. An unknown number.

He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before answering.

A woman’s voice, rushed and anxious, came through the line. “Isabella? It’s Victoria Lee. I’ve got Liam. I’m taking him to the address you sent—Hawthorne Residence. Don’t worry. Everything is under control.”