Even later, when he discovered it was all a misunderstanding, he never apologized.
Because Isabella was already dead.
Now, he grabbed my collar, his eyes cold.
“Emma, what are you to me? Someone who obeys without question? Who gives her all, swallows every grievance, kneels to apologize to a housekeeper’s daughter whenever I demand it?”
His hand tightened around my throat, veins bulging.
“Shut up! Do you really think I wouldn’t hurt you? Afraid Isabella might stand in the way of our marriage? You could’ve found another way. Why send sick men to ruin her life?”
His grip grew stronger.
