Chapter 4

They all turned to the door and saw an angry Andrew holding a shotgun.

Patricia knew Isabelle blew up the whole deal the moment she saw Andrew, and she scoffed.

Alejandro and Margaret jumped to their feet as Andrew shot at the ceiling.

“You disgusting pig,” he growled, “tried to fool me. Do you have any idea who I am?” Andrew roared.

“I told you she'd never pass as me,” Patricia muttered.

“Silence!” he shouted as he let out another shot.

Isabelle was still outside, pacing. She was scared to see her uncle's face.

When she heard the gunshots, she thought her uncle had hurt Andrew. She raced inside the office with her head down and fell on her knees.

Everyone turned their gazes to her, and she didn't notice. She fell to her knees and cried out, “I'm sorry, Uncle. I tried all I could to please the client.”

“It seemed you just weren't enough,” Andrew sneered.

Isabelle raised her head slowly to see her uncle and his wife shivering in Andrew's presence. Her eyes widened in shock. “Was this even possible?” she asked herself.

Throughout the twenty-three years of her life, she'd never seen Alejandro and Margaret scared of someone or something.

Andrew's lips folded into a cocky smirk as he noticed the surprise in her expression.

“Who is this man?” Isabelle’s eyes dimmed as she muttered to herself.

“So, what was your genius plan? That she'd come to my house and I wouldn't realize that it's not Patricia? Do you think I'm stupid?”

“I'm sorry, but what you asked of us was too much,” Margaret snapped.

“Silence, woman! Who said you could speak?” Andrew roared. “Is this girl the only one with some training here?” he asked, pointing at Isabelle. “You speak only when spoken to… Understood?”

Margaret nodded and dropped her head as he walked towards her direction. “That's a good girl,” Andrew sneered as he walked around her, examining her features while everyone else in the room was stiff.

“If what I asked was too much, why didn't you object?” Andrew asked, raising a brow as he walked up to Alejandro. “You just agreed like a little bitch… men like you disgust me.”

Alejandro didn't say a word; he just stared down at his shoes.

“For some strange reason, I'm going to let this slide, but pray we never cross paths again, ’cause I may not be this merciful the next time I see you,” Andrew said through gritted teeth. His whole aura was nefarious, but he suppressed his anger and turned away. As he walked up to the door, he didn't spare Isabelle a glance.

“You disgusting bitch,” Margaret lunged at Isabelle, pulling her to the floor by her hair. “Just a simple deal you couldn't close.”

“I told y'all she could never pass as me,” Patricia said. “I'm perfect, and she's… well, the opposite of perfect. I'm a goddess; she's a hag.”

“Just be quiet!” Alejandro shouted as he walked towards Isabelle on the floor by her hair. “And you,” his cold gaze turned to Isabelle, “You've ruined me. I'm going to make sure I kill you,” he said as he reached for her neck to strangle her.

“Don't you even dare!” Andrew said, following the third gunshot that was aimed directly in front of Alejandro's feet, stopping him in his tracks.

“Your niece?” he shouted as he walked towards Alejandro. “The only child of your dead brother? Don't you have value for your family?”

Andrew stopped for a moment and breathed out, letting out all the rage and anger he'd been suppressing.

“You're a lousy, weak, fat pig, so you take out your frustrations on this sad-looking girl to make yourself feel bigger and better,” he continued, gripping Alejandro's neck and squeezing as hard as he could.

“If she's really that important to you, why don't you just take her away?” Patricia said.

Isabelle's eyes widened as tears rolled down her cheeks. She turned to Patricia, looking confused, trying to recall what she'd done to her that brought about this much hate and anger.

Andrew let go of Alejandro's neck, and he fell to the floor, gasping, trying to catch his breath. Andrew turned to Patricia, and Margaret followed his gaze.

“No, please, not my daughter!” she jumped in front of him.

“Get out of my way!” he pushed her to the side, and she bashed her head against the table. But he didn't seem to care.

“Ouch, please, please, please, not the hair, not the hair!” Patricia shouted, writhing in pain as Andrew pulled her up to his height by her hair.

“Please, sir, let her go. You're only making things worse for me,” Isabelle pleaded.

Andrew turned to her and saw the genuineness in her expression. “How can someone have no bad intentions towards a person who has been abusing her her whole life?” The thought of it made him even more angry.

“What did I say about only speaking when spoken to?” he asked Patricia. “Or do you think I can't touch you?” he asked again.

Isabelle held his pants, and he stared down at her. He couldn't resist the way her lime hazel eyes sparkled.

“Alright, fine, I'm taking her,” he said as he let go of Patricia and picked Isabelle up.

All three of them were on the floor. Margaret had passed out, and the other two were groaning in pain.

He brought out his checkbook from the inner pockets of his jacket, wrote a check of fifteen million to Moner's Estates and Housing Agency, then took Isabelle with him.

“He just bought me like some cheap commodity on sale at the supermarket,” she thought in the passenger seat of his car as they drove back to his house.

“She's quiet. I wonder what she's thinking,” he turned to her briefly, then his focus went back to the road.

“Is he stealing gazes of me? I wonder what he's gonna do with me now.”

“She’s worried. Should I talk to her and ease her mind? No, what's wrong with me? The fuck am I even thinking? Why do I care how she's feeling?”

“I think I should talk to him, at least just to know what will become of me now.” She turned to him and saw his expression; he still seemed angry. She quickly turned away.

The drive back to the mansion was a quiet one. “Finally,” he breathed as he parked in front of the house. “Let's go in,” he said, opening the door for Isabelle.

She faced down and slowly shook her head, reluctant to come out because she didn't know what to expect.

“Get out, now!” he grabbed her by the wrist and gently pulled her out of the car, she stumbled and his heart flipped but he balled his fist and didn't look at her. 

He was trying to hide how weak he felt for her; he knew what it could do to him.

He walked ahead of her into the house. She followed slowly, her jaw dropped when she saw the interior designs and style. 

For a moment there, she forgot about everything and took her time to take in the beauty of the house. Until he yanked her again and they were heading into his study.

“Sit there,” he ordered, pointing at the couch.

She sat on the couch, nervously pressing her hands tightly against each other.

“What’s this?” he muttered to himself as he saw a letter on his desk. His eyes widened for a moment when he picked it up and saw the seal of the Seven Rings. 

“What do they want now, these crazy old men?”

He grabbed a paper cutter and opened the letter.

He shifted his gaze to Isabelle after seeing the heading of the letter: ‘NOTICE TO PRODUCE A LEGITIMATE HEIR AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.’

 “I think I might have a job for you,” he said as his lips folded into a nasty smirk.