Chapter 285

"Release her."

Alexander's gaze burned through the two maids restraining Isabella, his voice dripping with venom. It was the kind of tone that made spines stiffen and blood run cold.

The servants trembled, their eyes darting to Victoria for guidance.

Victoria's lips curled in disgust. Alexander was commanding her staff—defending this worthless girl!

She had been ready to back down. After all, Alexander was the man she had dreamed of for years. How could she defy him?

But then she remembered.

Her mother had already severed ties with the Kingsley family. There was no hope for her now.

And this was her home. The Vanderbilt estate.

Did Alexander really think he could waltz in here and dictate terms?

Rage boiled in her veins.

"No!" she snapped. "This is my house. My servants answer to me!"

A sharp cry cut through the air.

Alexander moved like lightning. One of the maids holding Isabella was sent flying, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.

Victoria's breath hitched.

The second maid released Isabella instantly, dropping to her knees. "Mr. Kingsley, please—we were only following orders—"

Another kick. Another scream.

Victoria stumbled back, her face draining of color.

She had always dismissed the rumors about Alexander—the whispers of him being ruthless, merciless.

Now she understood.

The room was deathly silent.

"Alexander..." Isabella's voice was fragile, her legs shaking as she leaned into him.

His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. His fingers traced soothing circles along her trembling back.

"It's alright, Isabella. I'm here."

Victoria's nails dug into her palms, jealousy twisting her stomach into knots.

"It hurts..." Isabella whimpered.

"Where?" His voice was tight with worry.

"It hurts..." she repeated, as if lost in a haze.

At the top of the grand staircase, Eleanor stood frozen.

She had been descending when she saw the scene unfold—Alexander squaring off against Victoria, Isabella cradled protectively in his arms.

Eleanor's eyes narrowed.

Then, without a word, she retreated into the shadows.

"Victoria."

Alexander's voice was a blade. His gaze locked onto her, cold and lethal. "You just got out of prison. Are you eager to go back?"

Victoria flinched.

"Let me make this clear—one last time." His voice dropped to a growl. "Isabella is mine. Anyone who touches her answers to me—and to the Kingsley family."

The words hung in the air, absolute.

Victoria's knees nearly buckled.

Her father wasn't here to shield her. Neither was her mother.

"The only reason you're still standing is because you haven't crossed my line. But mark my words, Victoria—if you ever lay a finger on Isabella again, I'll bury you in a cell so deep, not even your father will be able to dig you out."

His grip on Isabella tightened. "And when that happens, I won't care about decades of friendship between our families."

His eyes flicked upward, catching Eleanor's retreating figure.

Eleanor froze.

But then she straightened. She was the lady of this house. Alexander's elder. What did she have to fear?

Victoria was left speechless.

Humiliation burned through her. The servants' pitying glances were salt in the wound.

"Isabella, let's go." Alexander's voice softened as he pressed his lips to her temple. "I'll take you to see Sebastian. Or your sister in law. Whatever you want."

Isabella nodded weakly.

Alexander lifted her into his arms, ignoring the stunned onlookers as he strode toward the exit.

"Alexander!" Victoria shrieked. "You can't just take her! She's a Vanderbilt! Have you asked my parents?"

She couldn't bear the thought of Isabella leaving with him. The jealousy would eat her alive.

"I'm taking Isabella. She wants to go. What's the problem?" Alexander smirked. "And do I really need your mother's permission? If she objected, wouldn't she have stopped me by now?"

Victoria's mouth opened—then closed.

Before she could retort, Alexander was gone.

The cold wind outside bit at their skin, but Alexander held Isabella closer, shielding her.

He wasn't a gentle man by nature. But for her, he'd learned tenderness.

His large hand rubbed warmth into her arm, desperate to chase away the chill.

Isabella nestled against his chest, her breathing steadying.

Alexander's throat tightened.

He loved this. Loved being her shelter.

Olivia, waiting by the car, smiled knowingly and opened the door.

Just as Alexander moved to help Isabella inside, a thin figure stumbled forward.

Linda.

"Mr. Kingsley! Please—wait!"

Olivia stepped forward, ready to intercept, but Linda dropped to her knees before she could react.

"Mr. Kingsley... please help Miss Isabella. Please." Tears streaked down her face.

"Olivia, help her up." Alexander frowned. "Speak."

Linda shook her head, refusing to rise. "I won't get up until you promise to help her! I'm just a maid—but I'd give my life for Miss Isabella!"

"What happened?"

Linda wiped her tears, then carefully rolled up Isabella's sleeve.

Alexander's breath caught.

Bruises. Old and new.

His vision turned red.

"Who. Did. This."

Three words. That was all he managed.

Olivia shuddered.

She knew Alexander better than anyone. When his voice went this quiet, this controlled—he was beyond furious.

"It was Miss Victoria," Linda sobbed. "She tortures Miss Isabella whenever Mr. Sebastian isn't home! He tries to protect her, but he can't be here all the time!"

Alexander's jaw clenched.

Olivia's fists tightened.

"Mr. Kingsley... you're Mr. Sebastian's closest friend. And you care for her. Please—protect her."

Alexander exhaled sharply, looking down at the fragile girl in his arms.

"I promise."

His voice was steel. "As long as I'm alive, no one will hurt Isabella again."

And with that, he carried her away—right under Victoria's nose.

The humiliation was unbearable.

Why did that idiot have a protector?

Why not her?

She was prettier. Smarter. More talented.

Yet Alexander would rather waste his affection on a broken girl than glance her way?

Rage consumed her.

She turned on Linda, punishing her by making her scrub every toilet in the estate—and docking her entire year's bonus.

"That's enough!" Eleanor's voice cut through the room. She lounged on the sofa, filing her nails. "You look more vicious than that little witch Evelyn. No wonder Alexander wants nothing to do with you."

Victoria froze.

Something was off.

Her mother always took her side. Always defended her.

So why was she sitting back now?

"Mother!" Victoria's voice cracked. "You saw what happened downstairs! Why didn't you help me?"

Eleanor scoffed. "Why should I?"

Victoria's world tilted.

"Even I've given up on Alexander. Yet here you are—still pining like a fool." Eleanor shook her head. "I won't waste my efforts on a lost cause. If Alexander wants Isabella, then so be it. She is my daughter too. And if marrying her secures the Kingsley alliance, who am I to object?"

Victoria's vision blurred.

Her mother—supporting Isabella?

What was she, then?

A discarded pawn?

"Isabella can't have Alexander! I won't allow it!" Victoria screamed, her body shaking violently.

Eleanor's eyes darkened.

She picked up her wine glass and flung it at Victoria.

Red wine splashed across her face, dripping onto her dress.

Victoria stood stunned.

"Who taught you to raise your voice at me?" Eleanor hissed. "If you're so desperate for Alexander, go win him. But let me save you the trouble—he'd rather die than look at you twice."

With that, she stormed out.

Victoria collapsed.

Her mother's words shattered the last of her pride.

Her fingers closed around a shard of broken glass. Blood welled, but she didn't feel the pain.

In her mind, it wasn't glass she was clutching—but Isabella's throat.

"If everyone else has to die for Alexander to be mine... then let them die."