The villa's air was oppressive.

A faint trace of alcohol mixed with a suffocating stillness.

Isabella found it difficult to breathe.

The silence was a physical weight on her chest.

Ethan was sprawled on the leather sofa.

His posture seemed relaxed, but it radiated undeniable power.

He swirled amber liquid in a crystal glass.

Ice clinked softly against its sides.

The chandelier's warm light carved sharp shadows across his form.

It highlighted his unbuttoned collar and the sharp lines of his collarbones.

Seeing him, something shattered inside Isabella.

Her nails bit into her palms.

Her teeth sank into her lower lip.

She fought for control, but the internal storm raged.

"Ethan Blackwood!" Her voice burst forth, trembling with raw fury. "What the hell is this?"

His dark gaze lifted slowly, pinning her in place.

The intensity made her breath catch.

He remained silent, fueling her anger further.

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Words tumbled out in a frantic rush. "Why target the Grant Group? You know Lucas has helped me! Why would you do this?" Her eyes burned, tears threatening to fall.

She refused to let them.

She clung to her composure desperately.

Ethan swirled his glass again.

The amber liquid caught the light, gleaming coldly.

"Business," he stated, his tone utterly indifferent. "Commerce only has one winner. You know that."

His words were a dagger.

Sharp.

Unrelenting.

They pierced straight through her.

"Business?" Isabella echoed, her voice cracking with disbelief. "Ethan, why do you keep coming after me? We're done. There's nothing left. Just let me go."

She couldn't comprehend why he kept pulling her back.

Ethan stood.

His movements were deliberate, each step echoing in the thick silence.

He stopped mere inches from her.

His eyes locked onto hers.

A quiet menace laced his whisper. "Isabella, are you asking me to spare the Grant Group? To change my entire corporate strategy?"

He leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower. "You'll need to offer more than just words."

Isabella's breath hitched.

Her mind flashed to the night he was drugged.

Her hands shook.

Her nails dug deeper into her palms.

The bag she held slipped from her fingers.

It hit the floor with a dull thud.

The sound echoed loudly in the quiet room.

She slowly raised her head.

Her eyes met his with quiet, firm defiance.

A single tear escaped.

She refused to let it break her.

The world seemed to freeze in that moment.

Isabella knew her decision.

She couldn't let the Grant family fall.

She couldn't let her studio be destroyed.

Her hands trembled, but resolve anchored her.

She began to unfasten the buttons of her blouse.

The room shrank around her.

The air grew heavy with unspoken weight.