Chapter 431

Warren Garten was dragged into the dim basement by two black-suited bodyguards.

The damp air carried a faint metallic scent of blood.

Isabella Langley lounged lazily on the leather sofa, her slip dress accentuating every curve.

A slender cigarette dangled between her fingers as she watched him through the haze with venomous eyes.

"Kneel." A bodyguard kicked the back of Warren's knees.

He grunted as his knees hit the cold marble floor.

Isabella rose slowly, her stilettos clicking sharply against the stone.

Slap!

Her palm cracked across Warren's face.

"Bella—"

"Silence!" Her voice turned shrill. "Who gave you permission to film those videos?"

Beads of sweat formed on Warren's forehead.

He knew exactly what Isabella was capable of.

"I missed you too much..." His voice trembled. "They were locked in my safe..."

Isabella smirked before delivering another stinging slap.

Blood trickled from the corner of Warren's mouth.

"Then explain how Adrian Valentine got his hands on them." She gripped his chin. "You've ruined me."

Warren suddenly smiled—a broken, desperate thing.

"If beating me helps, I'll gladly take it."

Her fingers twitched against his jaw.

She'd always been weak to this act.

The bodyguards discreetly exited.

Isabella traced the angry red mark on Warren's cheek.

"Does it hurt?"

He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest.

"Not as much as this does."

Her gaze darkened with something primal.

She needed release.

...

The next evening, spotlights crisscrossed the Golden Phoenix Awards ceremony.

This year's Best Actress race was particularly fierce.

The nominees list prominently featured Isabella Langley and Scarlett Orlando.

Scarlett claimed the trophy for her period drama Splendid Weave.

While Isabella—only two years into her career—had secured a nomination.

Industry insiders whispered about the strings pulled behind the scenes.

Vincent Langley had poured fortunes into paving his daughter's path.

With the Valentine Group's discreet maneuvering.

Every scandal about Isabella had been buried without a trace.

On the red carpet, Isabella dazzled in haute couture, outshining every star.

No one suspected last night's basement frenzy.

Or noticed the faint bruises peeking above her collar.