Chapter 929 Venting
Right then, Isabella remembered Bronte from the annual party.
Back then, everyone saw Bronte's flirty moves, but he still let Bronte be his date.
Thinking about it now, Isabella got even angrier.
Leon felt a sting from Isabella's harsh words. After a moment of shock, he said, "So that's what you think of me."
"Yeah, that's exactly what I think," Isabella snapped back, making things worse.
That was the last straw for Leon. His temper flared up instantly.
He frowned, then suddenly grabbed his shirt and yanked it apart.
With a ripping sound, buttons flew off, and his shirt tore. Even her knit sweater got messed up.
Isabella was stunned by Leon's rage.
"What are you doing?" she asked, a bit scared by his angry face.
Leon had been mad before, but never this furious. Isabella was really worried he might hit her.
Knowing she couldn't take a punch, she frantically looked around for a soft pillow to shield herself, just in case.
Leon stood up straight by the bed, glaring at her like he wanted to tear her apart.
Isabella shrank back, noticing the hole in his shirt where the button had been.
He was really strong. She looked down at her own ruined knit sweater.
She had just bought it a few days ago, and today was the first time she wore it.
While Isabella was still silently complaining, Leon turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
The loud slam made Isabella jump. Leon was just too unpredictable, and she was so nervous she broke out in a sweat.
After he left, Isabella started muttering curses at him, "That sweater was new! It cost hundreds of dollars, you owe me!"
But she only dared to mutter to herself because Leon had been so terrifying she didn't even dare to breathe loudly.
Isabella had never been scared of anyone before, but this time Leon had truly frightened her.
Usually, Leon was so quiet and careful, but when he got mad, he was really scary.
Isabella slowly lay down on the bed, feeling like she had just been in a nightmare.
After cursing Leon, she remembered the passionate kiss from earlier.
She touched her lips, her eyes drifting to the torn knit sweater, and noticed a silver button with a bit of fabric still attached lying on the bed.
Isabella gently picked up the button, feeling really conflicted.
She realized she had spoken recklessly. She didn't really think that way; she was just afraid he'd look down on her. She didn't mean to insult him.
Thinking about what she had said, it was definitely too much. Anyone would be upset, especially Leon.
The more Isabella thought about it, the more regretful and frustrated she became, and she pulled the blanket over her head.
A long time later, Isabella heard the door opening again.
Then, she heard the caregiver's voice from outside. "I got the salt!"
Isabella shouted in frustration, "Just bring it in."
Hearing Isabella's voice, the caregiver quickly walked to the bedroom door, peeked inside, and smiled. "Ms. Brown, where's Mr. Johnson?"
"He left," Isabella replied flatly.
The caregiver frowned. "Why did he leave? Wasn't he supposed to have dinner here?"
"He didn't want to stay, so don't worry about it," Isabella said, sounding dejected.
"Oh, okay. I'll go make dinner then," the caregiver said awkwardly and headed to the kitchen.
Since that day, Leon hadn't shown up for several days, and Isabella's regret turned into anger.
After being cooped up at home for over twenty days, Isabella was getting really bored.
One day, she said to the caregiver, "I want to go back to work tomorrow. It's only a fifteen-minute walk to the office. Every morning, you can take me there, and in the evening, pick me up and bring me back."
The caregiver was taken aback and frowned. "Ms. Brown, this is the sixth floor, and there's no elevator. Your leg isn't fully healed yet."
Isabella had already thought this through. "I'll use crutches and go down slowly. Yesterday, when you weren't home, I already tried it."
The caregiver was shocked. "What? You went downstairs? Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me? What if you had fallen? How would I explain that to Mr. Johnson?"
Isabella snapped back, "What does my business have to do with Leon?"
The caregiver stammered, "Well..."
Isabella gave her a stern look. "From now on, I'm paying your salary. You work for me and listen to me."
The caregiver looked awkward. "Ms. Brown, Mr. Johnson has already prepaid my salary for the next two months."
Isabella frowned. "I'll repay him as soon as I can."
"If there's nothing else, I'll get back to work," the caregiver said and left the bedroom.
She found an excuse to go outside and make a phone call.
"Mr. Johnson, Ms. Brown wants me to take her to work tomorrow. She also said she'd repay my salary to you and told me not to listen to you anymore," the caregiver reported.
Leon frowned but then said, "You can take her to work, but be careful. Her leg isn't fully healed yet, so make sure she doesn't get hurt again. As for your salary, I'll give you an extra $15 per day. Keep me updated on any developments, but don't tell her. Just follow her instructions when she's around."
Hearing about the raise, the caregiver beamed. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson. I'll take good care of Ms. Brown."
That evening, Isabella wanted some water, but her cup was empty, and the caregiver had gone out to buy something.
Isabella carefully walked to the kitchen with her crutches, poured herself a glass of water, and casually glanced downstairs.
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