"You'll get a chance to volunteer later," Heckter said, smirking, as he leaned forward to refill his cup with booze. He commanded his men, "Take her to the room." Izabella remained silent, her eyes lowered to conceal her emotions, her hand instinctively searching for the pocket in her coat.
As she was lifted from the ground, she lost all sense of direction and couldn't even attempt to call for assistance. This was Heckter's domain, and his henchmen were omnipresent.
If she called for help, not only would she fail, but she would also anger Heckter.
Thrown onto the bed, Izabella had her bag searched, and her entire body ached horribly. She opened her mouth and threw up, her stomach filled with either alcohol or blood.
It hurt so bad. The pain wasn't just physical; it was a deeper emotional wound. Physical pain could heal, but the heartache, just thinking about it, made her feel awful. There was no cure for that.
"There's no reason to be sad," Izabella comforted herself. After all, she's been betrayed before.
She could finally sever ties with Lucas now. With him off her back, she wouldn't have to be controlled by Brett anymore.
If she could make it out alive tonight, she swore she'd divorce Brett.
Izabella took a small fruit knife from her pocket and clenched it in her palm.
This tiny knife could be a life saver or a deadly weapon at a critical moment.
Afraid of losing consciousness, Izabella bit down on the bedding and stabbed herself in the thigh. The sharp pain brought her clarity.
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