Chapter 151

Chapter 38

The weight of her desperation seemed to register, but instead of softening, his expression hardened further.

“That’s enough,” he said sharply, slamming the glass down on the table with a loud clink. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his full height.

“Don’t do this,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t beg like this. It’s pathetic.”

Isla flinched at his words, but she couldn’t stop herself. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at him, pleading silently for him to reconsider.

But Graham’s expression remained cold, his frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “Go to your room, Isla,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “And leave me the hell alone.”

But Isla couldn’t stop. She just couldn’t. The tears came fast and heavy, cascading down her cheeks as though they carried the weight of everything she had been holding inside. She knelt before him, her voice breaking as she begged.

“Please, Graham. Don’t do this.” Her hands trembled as she reached out to him, as though she could somehow grasp his attention, his compassion. “I’ll do anything—anything you ask for—but you can’t sell Thornfield Manor.”

Her voice cracked with desperation, her heart laid bare. The words poured out of her like a torrent, unstoppable and raw. It was her home—her sanctuary. It’s all she have left of her family. Her mother—she spent her last days here, and so has her stepfather. Every memory she have of them is tied to this house. ”Please…” Her voice faltered, her chest heaving as the sobs took over.

But Graham didn’t soften. His expression remained cold, his jaw locked tight. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to respond at all. Then, slowly, he stood, towering over her with a look that sent a chill through her.

“That’s a very provocative suggestion, Isla,” he said, his tone low and sharp. There was a hard edge to his voice, but there was something else too—something she couldn’t quite place.

Before she could react, he moved to her side, his hand gripping her arm firmly but not unkindly. He pulled her up from the floor with a forceful yet careful touch, guiding her back to the chair. “Sit down,” he ordered, his voice controlled but tinged with frustration.

She didn’t resist, too stunned by the weight of his presence. He grabbed his glass of scotch and pushed it toward her, the amber liquid catching the light. “Here. Have a sip.”

Her eyes widened in confusion, but his expression left no room for argument. Hesitantly, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a small sip. The scotch burned its way down her throat, the fiery sensation making her cough violently.

Graham sighed, his frustration evident. “You’ve never had scotch before, have you?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms as he watched her recover from the burn.

When she finally managed to catch her breath, he spoke again, his voice quieter but no less firm. “Now listen to me, Isla. Don’t ever say something like that again—ever. Not to me, not to any man.”

His gaze was piercing as he stared down at her, the intensity of it making her stomach churn. “Do you understand me?”

She nodded weakly, unable to find her voice under the weight of his stare.

“Good,” he said, straightening up and moving to the cabinet behind him. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and closed it with a deliberate pop, placing it back in its place with a sense of finality.

“Because I don’t think you’d like the answer to that kind of suggestion,” he added, his tone dropping, quieter now but no less cutting. He glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before looking away again.

Isla sat frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like she was unraveling, like every word he said was tearing her apart piece by piece.

“Finish your drink,” he said, his tone softer now but still carrying a note of command. “It’ll help you calm down. And then go to your room. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

She stared at him, the glass trembling in her hands. “Graham…” she began, her voice a whisper. “Will you at least think about not selling Thornfield Manor? Please, I’m begging you.”

For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face—something that looked almost like hesitation. But then it was gone, replaced by the same cold, hardened expression he had worn since the beginning of their conversation.

“No,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. The single word hung in the air like a death knell, final and absolute.

Isla’s heart sank, her last shred of hope crumbling into dust. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at him, searching his face for even a hint of compassion. But there was none. He wouldn’t budge.

“I—you once said…” Isla began, her voice trembling, but her resolve wavered under the weight of his dark, piercing gaze. She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to continue. “Is this because I refused your marriage proposal?”

The words echoed in the room, heavy and sharp. She hadn’t intended to sound so blunt, but what choice did she have? Graham had once warned her—if she didn’t accept his terms, he would sell Thornfield Manor, leaving her and the staff with nothing. She needed to know if this was vengeance, a cruel game to punish her for turning him down.

Graham didn’t respond immediately, but his reaction spoke volumes. His body stiffened, his jaw tightening as though she had struck him. His eyes, usually so composed, darkened with something between fury and disbelief. It was as if her words had pierced through the carefully built wall of control he had maintained.

When he finally spoke, his voice was like ice, each word measured and cutting. “I don’t wish to speak about this,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. Then, louder, sharper: “Get out, Isla!”

The threat in his voice was unmistakable, a warning she should have heeded. But she was desperate now, far past the point of retreat. The thought of losing Thornfield Manor—the only place that still felt like home—was unbearable.

“Please, Graham,” she pleaded, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes. “If I agree to the marriage… will you please rethink your decision to sell?” Her hands clasped together as if she were praying for a miracle, her gaze begging him for even the smallest glimmer of hope.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, Graham’s expression shifted, his fury simmering just beneath the surface. What she hadn’t expected was the cruel smirk that curled at the corner of his lips, nor the cold, sharp laughter that escaped him.

“A marriage?” he echoed mockingly. “You’re offering to marry me now?” His voice dripped with disdain, and his smirk widened into something almost sinister. “That train left the station, darling. Months ago. In case you haven’t noticed.”

Isla’s breath caught in her throat as his words hit her like a slap. “Graham, I’m serious,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve thought about it—what happened in New York—and I know now that I want to—”

But before she could finish, he cut her off with a bitter laugh, one that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer to her, his eyes scanning her face with an unsettling intensity.

“Want to what?” he sneered. “Marry me? Be my wife?” He shook his head, his expression filled with mockery. “Do you know why I asked you to marry me in the first place? It wasn’t for love, Isla. It wasn’t even for companionship. I wanted you—wanted you—so badly that I was willing to put a ring on your finger just to get you into my bed.”

The words hung in the air like poison, and Isla’s stomach turned.

“You,” he continued cruelly, his gaze roving over her in a way that made her feel small and exposed, “were this young, innocent thing. Untouched. Pure. And I wanted you so much, I was willing to pay the price of marriage for it. I thought it was a fair exchange—you’d get my name, my protection, and I’d get the privilege of having you warm my bed whenever I pleased.”

Isla’s chest tightened, her vision blurring with tears. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, couldn’t believe that the man she had secretly loved for so long was capable of such cruelty.

“But then,” Graham continued, his voice turning colder, “I realized how foolish I was. I was so blinded by lust, so frustrated, that I let my brain stop functioning. And now?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Now, I wouldn’t marry you if you begged me. I’m not interested anymore, Isla. Not in marriage, and certainly not in you.”

The cruel smile on his face felt like the final blow, and Isla staggered back as if she had been physically struck. Her hands trembled at her sides, and her chest ached with the weight of his rejection.

“Graham, you don’t mean that,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it,” he said sharply, his voice firm and unyielding. “And you know what? Since you’re so desperate to save this place—so willing to do anything—let’s make a deal.”

Her heart sank. The way he said “anything” made her feel like it was a curse, like she was being dragged into something dark and inescapable.

“Spend the night with me,” he said, his tone casual but laced with venom.

“Wha—what?” Isla’s voice was barely above a whisper, her mind reeling. She must have misheard him. He couldn’t mean—

“You heard me,” Graham said, his eyes locking onto hers with a cold, calculating stare. “Spend the night with me, in my bed, and I’ll keep Thornfield Manor. I won’t sell it, and you can stay here for as long as you want. Who knows?” He smirked cruelly. “Maybe you’ll even become my mistress. You can warm my bed whenever I’m in need or in town.”

The air seemed to leave the room, and Isla felt herself spiraling, unable to process the words coming out of his mouth. Her legs felt weak, and she clutched the edge of the table to steady herself.

Graham didn’t wait for a response. He stepped back, his expression unreadable now, and turned toward the door. “I’ll leave you to think about it,” he said, his voice flat. “But don’t take too long, Isla. My patience is wearing thin.”

And with that, he left, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the room.