Chapter 8: I Want to Crush Her

Ethan's POV

I couldn't erase Isabella's image from my mind. Yesterday when she brought the police to the house, she looked utterly pitiful: her pale, drawn face, the thin shirt and pants clinging to her frail body, her white arms covered in mosquito bites, and bloodstains on the cotton slippers the police had given her. Though she tried to appear composed at the time, I easily saw through her facade.

Who would have thought my timid stepsister had such fight in her?

Isabella was the first woman in Manhattan who dared to bite me and call the police. This defiance both ignited my anger and sparked my interest. What puzzled me even more was why she lied to my grandma and the others, claiming I had only taken her to see the stars.

That's why I arrived at the Black family mansion early this morning. Some matters required... personal attention.

As I approached the dining room, I caught fragments of conversation from the living room. My sister Olivia's sharp voice carried clearly: "Just ignore her, both mother and daughter are detestable."

Her friend Luna's softer voice followed: "She's unfortunate to have crossed paths with Ethan."

"Save your pity for my brother," Olivia scoffed. "Weren't you interested in him? Why sympathize with his enemy?"

"Is Ethan home?"

"Probably. If you want to see him, go to his mansion. I'm not playing third wheel."

I walked past silently, focusing my attention on the dining room where Isabella sat alone at the table. She was so absorbed in her breakfast that she didn't notice my presence until our butler nearly spilled the coffee pot.

"Mr. Black? Good morning, sir." The butler's startled greeting broke the morning quiet.

The reaction rippled through the room. Luna immediately stood up, her eyes sparkling with admiration. Olivia's surprise showed in her sudden sharp intake of breath. But Isabella - she froze completely, her spine stiff as if sensing danger.

I approached her slowly, deliberately. Looming over her chair, breathing in her scent. When I bent down, my shadow fell across her plate. I got close enough to see her pulse racing in her throat.

"Sleep well?" I whispered near her ear, keeping my voice low.

She swallowed hard, her fingers turning white as they gripped her fork. "Fine, thank you."

The tremor in her voice was barely perceptible, but it was there. Good. She should be afraid.

"Any nightmares?" I pressed further, letting a hint of menace color my tone.

"Yes." The word was barely audible.

I straightened slowly, maintaining my dominant position. "Bringing police to my door... were you hoping to see me in handcuffs, Isabella?"

"They were just escorting me home."

"Lying doesn't suit you." I ran my finger along the back of her chair. "Tell me, how should I end you?"

The threat hung between us, heavy and dark. Her breathing became shallow, though she tried to maintain her composure. This false bravery of hers was... interesting. I wanted to break her, to watch her submit to my will.

Before she could respond, Luna's voice interrupted our private exchange: "Ethan! What a lovely surprise."

I didn't bother turning around, only offering an uninterested "Hmm" in response. My attention remained fixed on Isabella's rapidly paling face, watching every micro-expression that betrayed her fear.

My continued focus on Isabella seemed to further agitate Luna. She kept trying to catch my eye, Watching her eager yet deliberate manner, I knew she was plotting something in her mind. Whenever I leaned closer to Isabella, Luna's breath would noticeably catch, but I couldn't care less.

"Oh my, what a surprise!" grandma Nora's cheerful voice announced her arrival. "Ethan, dear, what brings you to breakfast?"

Soon after, the room quickly filled with people—my brother Owen with his newspaper, and my father with his usual look of disapproval, taking his seat. But I kept my focus on Isabella, observing how she tried to make herself smaller, less noticeable. Each time she glanced my way, I caught her gaze and held it until she looked away first.

"Owen, have you set a wedding date?" grandma asked.

"Next month," Owen replied without looking up. "Still finalizing the details."

"Isabella," he unexpectedly added, "if you're interested, there's an opening at my company."

I carefully observed her reaction, noting how her eyes flicked toward me before she responded.

"Thank you, but I prefer to find work on my own."

A cold smile tugged at my lips. Smart girl. She knew her place.

"Ethan." My father's voice carried its usual criticism and disappointment. "Instead of whatever it is you do all day, you might consider learning proper business from your brother."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Olivia's laugh broke the silence. "Dad, Ethan has been running his own company for two years now."

The loud drop of my father's fork against his plate, along with his shocked expression, was enough to show how little attention he paid to me. Fortunately, I had long grown accustomed to it.

This couldn't stir any emotions in me; instead, my attention was fixed on Isabella across the table. She thought yesterday's small favor would keep her safe. My dear stepsister was so naive. No matter, in the days to come, I would make sure she understood what real "fun" meant.