Chapter 4

"Isabelle, you're finally back! Nathan's poor father brought an infectious disease and even hit me!"

The door suddenly burst open. Isabelle walked in, bringing a blast of cold air with her.

Marcus immediately dropped his arrogant expression. Covering his swollen cheek, he hurried forward,

"I just asked his father to take a bath, and his father..."

He stopped mid-sentence deliberately, looked down at the barely visible red mark on his hand, and forced a bitter smile:

"Forget it. I shouldn't have meddled. After all, I'm just a butler. Getting hit is my own fault."

Isabelle was the only daughter of the Sterling family. Years ago, she rejected all the wealthy young men in the capital to marry me, a penniless nobody.

After moving into the Sterling family mansion, my status plummeted while her need to control the household grew daily.

My already desperate heart suddenly sparked with a glimmer of hope at the sight of Isabelle.

I frantically pounded on the glass door, making dull thuds.

"Isabelle! Open the door! Save Victor! He's having a heart attack!"

I dragged my father-in-law, numb from the cold, to the door, trying to let Isabelle see his face clearly.

But the glass was covered with thick frost. She couldn't see the figure outside at all.

She didn't even turn her head, looking at Marcus with distress in her eyes.

"What happened? Who hit you?"

Marcus lowered his eyes, his voice hoarse:

"It's nothing, Isabelle. Really nothing. Just broke the skin a little. Not worth getting upset over."

My eyes widened as I stared at the barely visible red mark on Marcus's finger.

It was clearly from when he'd accidentally scratched himself on a cherry pit earlier.

Isabelle's expression instantly darkened, her eyes filled with murderous intent.

She turned toward the backyard, her gaze as cold as a poisoned blade:

"Nathan, I usually tolerate you out of marital consideration, but you actually brought your poor father here to cause trouble? And you dared to hurt Marcus?"

I shook my head frantically, my voice already hoarse from shouting:

"Isabelle, are you blind! That's not my father---that's your real father, Victor Sterling! He just had heart surgery. He's dying. Please open the door!"

Isabelle laughed mockingly, as if she'd heard the joke of the century. She pressed the intercom, her voice dripping with disdain:

"Nathan, if you're going to lie, at least make it believable. My father is recuperating in Switzerland. How could he possibly appear here dressed like a beggar? To protect your poor father, you'd tell such a lie. You disgust me."

She turned to the bodyguards behind her, her tone ice-cold: "Open the door."

I thought she was finally going to let us in. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief.

But Isabelle's next words plunged me into hell.

"Throw these two paupers into the snow outside. Don't let their poverty stink up my carpet."

The bodyguards immediately opened the door. A bone-chilling wind mixed with snowflakes rushed into the living room.

They roughly grabbed my arms and dragged me and my father-in-law toward the front door.

"No! Isabelle, you can't do this!" I clung desperately to the doorframe, my nails leaving bloody scratches on the wood.

"If you throw him out today, you'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

Isabelle held Marcus close, looking down at me without a trace of warmth in her eyes:

"The biggest regret of my life was marrying you, this disgraceful country man. Marcus is my lifesaver. Anyone who dares touch a hair on his head---I'll take their life."

The bodyguard gave a hard shove and kicked me into the snow.

My father-in-law was thrown down beside me. The iron gate slammed shut in front of us.

I crawled over and held my father-in-law. His body was already stiff, his breathing barely perceptible.

The snow fell harder and harder, quickly piling thick layers on us.

Through the mansion's enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see Isabelle carefully putting a band-aid on Marcus's finger.

Marcus let her fuss over him. His gaze passed through the glass and landed on me, his lips curling into a malicious, cold smile.

I held my father-in-law tightly, my heart feeling as though an invisible hand had crushed it.

"Isabelle, you threw him in the snow today. Tomorrow you'll be begging on your knees for him to live."