Lysander laughed loudly, his gaze sharp as he quickly spoke, "Back then, in order to claim Mr. Ravenscroft as his father, he actually begged Mr. Ravenscroft to kill his poor father!"
Isidore's body trembled with rage, his fist crashing into the wall, and with a violent force, he sent the heavy wardrobe tumbling to the ground, splintering into wood shards and raising a cloud of dust. A sharp splinter narrowly missed Lysander's eye, leaving a trail of blood along his temple.
"Heh, why are you so worked up? Am I lying? Your father spent years struggling for you and your sister, and now, with your sister gone, didn't you trade your helpless father's life with Mr. Ravenscroft in exchange for the wealth and power you enjoy now?"
Lysander's tongue, sharp as a blood-stained blade, slid past his snow-white teeth: "Heh, to please Mr. Ravenscroft's son, the true heir, didn't you kill seven innocent children without a second thought?"
Isidore said nothing more. His eyes were like bottomless, shadowed pits, devoid of any light. His every movement had one clear purpose: to kill Lysander.
Once Isidore focused solely on this objective and no longer cared about extracting the mastermind's identity from Lysander, Lysander quickly collapsed. A kick to the back of his knee sent him crashing to the ground.
Isidore gripped his throat with five fingers, his expression as cold as a grim reaper: "Lysander, I've tolerated you for long enough." The aura and murderous intent radiating from him were enough to send a chill down one's spine at a mere glance—an aspect of Isidore Eloise had never seen before.
What others couldn't perceive, she sensed keenly: Isidore, though appearing calm, was actually overwhelmed by intense emotions, his mind clouded, and his awareness of the surrounding environment had lost its sharpness.
He didn't even notice Lysander secretly reaching for the coat rack, where a sharp wire was sticking out at the joint, aimed at the artery in his thigh. At the same time, Lysander didn't forget to provoke him further, using the last few seconds when he could still speak.
"Eloise, what are you waiting for? The law can't punish scum like him, but you can. Kill him, and you'll have money and freedom. Didn't you want to travel the world? Pick up the gun on the floor."
As he spoke further, his voice grew hoarse, like torn fabric, carrying a demonic whisper that resonated with a chilling power, sending a shiver through the heart. Eloise bent down and picked up the gun on the floor. Isidore looked at her in disbelief, his face turning pale as if shattered like glass.
Lysander seized the brief moment of hesitation, pushing his shoulder upward and landing a strike directly on Isidore's chest. Isidore staggered back two steps, clutching his chest and coughing, the metallic taste of blood rising in his throat.
In a situation like this, any mistake could be fatal. Lysander used the sharp wire like a blade, thrusting it towards Isidore's face. Isidore barely managed to dodge it. Lysander took the opportunity to rise, wrapping the wire around Isidore's neck, shifting the balance of power.
In retaliation, Lysander kicked toward Isidore's groin. Isidore collapsed to his knees with a thunderous crash, facing Eloise. Had it not been for his quick thinking, pressing his palm between the wire and his carotid artery, his throat would have surely been severed.
Even so, it could only hold for a moment. Lysander, putting all his strength into the effort, revealed a grotesque expression, showing just how desperately he wished to see Isidore dead. The veins on Isidore's face bulged, as if covered in blood-red paint. His hand, squeezed so hard it bled, stained the rough wire.
Beyond where his hand protected, the wire cut in like a blade. The sound of flesh tearing could be heard as blood soaked the T-shirt below his neck. Eloise's hands shook as she raised the gun, aiming it straight ahead. Lysander grinned. "Shoot, Eloise, rid yourself of this villain!"
A gunshot echoed.
The bullet grazed Eloise's temple, leaving a large hole in the wall beside her. The shattered surface rippled like a spider's web. It was a warning shot, missing her life by just a millimeter.
Charlie burst into the room, his face twisted in hostility toward Eloise, who was holding the gun. "Put the gun down, or I won't be polite!" Lysander quickly assessed that he couldn't succeed this time. With a regretful "tch," he released his grip and leapt out through the window.
Eloise stumbled toward the window, as if to verify something, and leaned out. On the street below, an inconspicuous gray van sat parked, with part of the driver's face visible through the front seat's window—it was Octavius. He was part of this too.
He looked up, his gaze meeting hers for a moment with a complex expression. Lysander climbed into the car during the chase, and Octavius turned his attention back to the road, starting the car to make their escape, two vehicles chasing behind. So, was she truly just another pawn in their plot to have Isidore killed?
Since when had this started? Could it have been from that very first encounter...? A stranger grabbed her by the back of her collar and, with no mercy, threw her to the ground by the window. "Don't even think about running!" Eloise's limbs turned cold, and she didn't even feel the pain from the fall. In a daze, she glanced at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying.
"Boss! Boss!" Charlie's urgent call snapped Eloise back to her senses. Isidore lost consciousness. The wire around his neck had embedded deeply into his flesh, almost melding with it. The blood flowing beneath him pooled like a red, stagnant pond.
He had always been so lofty, so in control of everything, but now Eloise saw him—pale, fragile, like a man on the verge of death. In that moment, it felt as though her breath had stopped. She stood frozen, unsure of what to do.
Charlie gritted his teeth, trembling as he wrapped his coat around Isidore's neck. The dry fabric quickly soaked through with blood. "What are you doing!" He barked at Eloise, who was trying to approach. Eloise froze for a moment, then shouted back, "I need to see the wound on his neck!"
"Then to make it easier to finish him off?" Charlie shot her a hateful glance and gritted his teeth. "I really underestimated you! Even the boss, as sharp as he is, only took precautions against Lysander, but forgot to watch out for you!" "What do you mean by that?" Eloise tried to move closer, but a gun suddenly appeared in front of her, its black barrel pointed directly at her forehead.
"You think..." Eloise's eyes widened, the realization hitting her like a lightning bolt. "You think I was part of the plan to kill Isidore, don't you?" "Then why did you point the gun at the boss earlier?" Charlie said coldly, his voice certain.
"I was aiming at Lysander!" A chill ran down Eloise's back as Charlie's eyes made it clear—he didn't believe her. She remembered Isidore's last look. Oh my, could it be that he thought she was aiming at him?
Once prejudice takes root, even laying bare one's heart is of no use. Eloise's throat went dry, and the words she wanted to say stuck in her mouth. Charlie let out a cold laugh. "Take Miss Devereux back." Two tall men stepped forward and trapped her between them. "What are you going to do?"
"Don't worry, just play your lady role. They'll keep an eye on you, just making sure you don't run off." Charlie looked at her. "When the boss wakes up, I'll tell him everything you've done! What happens next will be up to him to decide!"
Eloise, furious, rolled her eyes in a sarcastic manner. No wonder her mother had always warned her not to associate with bad guys—this was the kind of consequence she'd face when she got close to dangerous people. "Fine, fine, I can't fight the bigger fish. Go ahead and report your complaints. Hmph, who would've thought I'd end up playing the role of a beautiful spy in this lifetime!"
She tossed her head and didn't even glance at Isidore anymore, stomping off angrily. She returned to the same villa, once again a caged lady, confined to her quarters. She suffered no mental or physical torment. Apart from being unable to leave, she was free to do as she pleased.
However, Isidore hadn't appeared for over half a month, and there was no news of him. She didn't know whether he was dead or alive.
