Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 78

Her mind was still replaying his words from earlier. "Tonight, I'm going to..."

She took a steadying breath.

"Ding—

The elevator doors slid open.

Everyone froze on the spot, a few letting out sharp gasps.

Isabelle was so startled the folders and notepad in her hands clattered to the floor, her gaze locked on the scene inside.

In the elevator, Oliver was on his knees, his left hand cradling his right, his face contorted in agony, veins standing out on his neck.

A pen was impaled through his right hand, the point emerging from the other side, blood steadily dripping.

A small, dark pool had soaked into the elevator carpet.

A thick, metallic smell wafted out, turning stomachs.

Standing beside Oliver was another figure—Damian.

He wore only his suit trousers, the cold glint of his belt buckle catching the light. The sight was unnerving.

He was calmly wiping blood spatter from his glasses with a tissue. Droplets of red marked his toned abdomen.

His eyes showed no emotion.

Isabelle's gaze swept over him, and their eyes met.

No one dared to speak until the elevator doors began to slowly close.

"What did Oliver do...?"

"Is Mr. Cross always this intense?"

"Did you see that? Mr. Cross has abs for days!"

"What a waste, I should've taken a picture. He's unreal."

"I heard he harassed Ms. Foster the other night, and Ms. Debose and Mr. Blake witnessed it."

"Mr. Cross wouldn't go that far just for a regular employee, would he...?"

"Ms. Foster, Mr. Cross isn't... interested in you, is he?"

"Ms. Foster, are you alright?"

All eyes turned to Isabelle, hungry for a clue.

"I... I'm a bit queasy around blood..." Her heart was hammering. "Go ahead without me, please cover for me..."

Eleanor, seeing her pale complexion, quickly moved to support her.

"We'll go up first then, Ms. Foster."

The group looked at her with a mix of concern and curiosity.

The adjacent elevator arrived, and the others filed in.

"Eleanor, you go ahead. I need to check on something. Message me if anything comes up," Isabelle said.

"Alright," Eleanor replied, knowing full well her friend had no issue with blood.

As the elevator doors closed, Isabelle hurriedly gathered her dropped files and walked to the opposite bank of elevators.

She rode up to the 30th floor. A trail of blood droplets led from the CEO's office to the elevator lobby.

She rushed into the office and picked up his discarded dress shirt and suit jacket from the chair.

On the desk lay a small pool of blood and a fresh puncture mark.

She could visualize it—him pinning Oliver's hand to the desk and driving the pen through without a second thought.

A shiver ran through her. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the garments.

She took the elevator down to the lobby.

"Put your clothes on."

"They're soiled." Damian glanced at the white shirt.

"Are you going to listen or not?"

"It's not that..."

"Put. Them. On."

"Fine."

Damian obeyed without further protest.

Brian, observing from a few steps away, was momentarily stunned, then stifled a laugh.

It was the first time he'd seen Damian so... compliant.

Who would have thought such an imposing, steely man could be handled so effortlessly. It seemed he was well and truly trained.

Isabelle shook out the shirt and helped him into it, buttoning it up efficiently before holding his suit jacket open for him.

This man actually walked around half-dressed just to avoid a dirty shirt. He practically gave the entire lobby a free show.

In the middle of winter, he deserved to freeze for a bit.

"I need to go to the station to give a statement," Damian said.

"I'm coming with you."

"Alright."

She took the wipes, walked back to the reception desk to return the unused ones, and quietly reminded the staff not to circulate any photos.

They simply nodded, not daring to say a word.

After all, it was the CEO. Office gossip was one thing, but spreading sensitive images was a line not to be crossed.