“Do you honestly believe I’m that easily deceived?” he snarled.

He shoved Isabella onto the bed without hesitation.

He loomed over her, pinning her down.

“Tell me the truth. What is really going on with you and Lucas?”

“This is absurd, Ethan,” Isabella shot back, her voice shaking but fierce.

She pushed him away with all her might, sending him stumbling backward.

Rage and revulsion burned in her gaze.

Ethan stood up, brushing dust from his now-stained suit.

His composure remained unbroken, intimidating as always.

“You call this absurd?” he mocked. “Never forget, Isabella. You are still my wife.”

She retreated instinctively, biting her lip hard.

She refused to let him see how vulnerable she felt.

“Your wife?” she laughed bitterly. “What have you ever done to deserve that title?”

Ethan ripped the towel from her body with a harsh tug.

Cold air hit her skin, making her shiver.

She swallowed a scream, forcing herself to stay silent.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

His hands gripped her waist, his breath hot and aggressive against her neck.

She fought back fiercely, but his hold was too strong.

“Let me go!” she cried out.

Terror took over. Tears streamed down her face.

Her hands weakly struck his shoulders.

Her voice broke with hopelessness. “I hate you, Ethan Blackwood. I truly despise you!”

Her words struck him like a physical blow.

He froze, an unfamiliar, sharp pain piercing his heart.

He was momentarily stunned by the intensity of it.

He didn’t understand why her hatred affected him so deeply.

He stared into her tear-filled eyes, his expression conflicted.

“You were the one who betrayed me first,” he muttered, his voice unsteady.

“I never cheated on you,” Isabella sobbed, both scared and furious.

She was utterly confused by his relentless accusations.

“I know exactly what happened between you and Lucas in this room,” Ethan said through gritted teeth.

Fury overwhelmed her. She slapped him hard across the face.

The sound echoed sharply through the room.

Ethan’s head jerked to the side. A red mark bloomed on his cheek.

“Lucas isn’t even here. How can you accuse me like this? Do you think everyone is as dishonest as you?” she retorted, her voice laced with venom.

The slap seemed to shock him into clarity.

He finally noticed that Isabella showed no signs of guilt.

Her claim appeared to be true.

He looked down at her—cheeks wet, struggling to breathe between sobs.

For the first time, Ethan felt completely lost.

The sting on his cheek felt deeper than any business failure he had ever faced.

Slowly, he stood up and stepped back, movements awkward.

His shirt hung open, buttons missing. His usual confidence was gone.

“I…I apologize. It seems I was wrong. I…” His voice was rough, edged with a discomfort he rarely showed.

But Isabella had no interest in hearing another word.