Chapter 2: A Kiss for a Drink

Isabella's Perspective

Ethan was right there in front of me, not saying a word. Just having him so close made me scared to death. I held onto my folder so tight my hands hurt, and I could barely breathe.

The elevator arrived at our floor. Ethan stepped out first, his stride confident and unhurried. I hadn't recovered yet and stood frozen in the elevator, too afraid to move.

After a moment, I finally gathered the courage to exit the elevator and walk toward the room number I had confirmed with my colleague, praying I wouldn't encounter that demon again.

Reaching the door at the end of the hallway, I knocked gently. Low voices and laughter drifted from inside. The door opened, and a well-dressed attendant greeted me.

"Hello, I'm here to deliver documents for Mr. Wilson. Is he available?" I asked, my voice slightly trembling.

The attendant nodded and led me through the corridors of the luxurious suite. The room was filled with the aroma of expensive cigars and the soft clinking of glasses.

I found Daniel sitting at a large table surrounded by men in tailored suits. As I approached, he looked up and gestured for me to come over.

"Isabella, come in," Daniel said, his tone casual yet commanding.

I handed him the documents, trying to ignore the curious glances from the other men in the room. "Here are the files you requested," I said softly.

"Thank you, Isabella. You can go back to work now," Daniel replied, taking the documents from me.

I felt relieved. The task seemed simpler than I had anticipated, and I was eager to leave this intimidating club. I turned, ready to depart.

"Wait."

When I heard the familiar voice behind me, I froze.

Is it him? Is he here too?

"Your employee?" Ethan asked Daniel.

Daniel cleared his throat. "This is Isabella Monroe, one of our new hires. She does excellent work."

"Turn around," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

I hesitated, looking to Daniel for support, but he simply nodded slightly, urging me to comply. I slowly turned around, feeling his gaze burning into me.

Beyond my fear, there was deep hatred and disgust for this man who had tormented me before. How I wanted to tear this demon apart, but I had no power to fight him. I knew he wasn't just trying to intimidate a random employee. He was targeting me specifically - his stepmother's daughter. This was his way of channeling his hatred for my mother onto me.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, his expression still unreadable. "Is she trustworthy?" he asked Daniel, his voice low and dangerous.

"Absolutely," Daniel answered quickly. "Isabella is hardworking and reliable. Though she hasn't been with us long, she's already proven herself very capable."

"She beat out 200 other applicants for this position and distinguished herself among ten talented interns during her probation period," Daniel added, trying to appease Ethan.

A faint, almost mocking smile curved Ethan's lips. "Interesting. But I'm not convinced."

My heart raced. What did he want from me? I hadn't done anything to warrant this scrutiny.

"Let's make a deal," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If you want me to consider the contract, she stays."

Daniel's face paled. "Mr. Black, please. She's just here to deliver documents. There's no need to involve her."

Ethan's smile vanished. "Then the deal is off."

Daniel turned to me, desperation in his eyes. "Isabella, please. Just stay a little while. If the deal goes through, I promise you'll be well compensated. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

I felt trapped. I didn't want to stay, but I also didn't want to jeopardize this job that I had fought so hard for. I reluctantly nodded.

Ethan's gaze softened slightly, but when he looked at me, his expression remained cold. "Pour me a drink."

I wished I could pour poison into his glass. But in reality, all I could do was reach for the bottle with trembling hands, pour a glass, and hand it to him. He took it, his eyes cold as knives.

"Drink with me," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

"I don't drink," I replied softly, barely hearing my own voice.

Daniel quickly intervened, "Mr. Black, she's not used to it, perhaps a cocktail—"

"Cocktails?" Ethan sneered, impatience flashing in his eyes. "Either drink this or get out."

The pungent smell of whiskey made my stomach churn. "I really can't," I protested quietly.

Ethan's expression hardened. "Then you can leave. But don't expect the contract to be signed."

Daniel's face fell. "Isabella, please. Just one drink. It will be over soon."

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I picked up the glass with a shaking hand and took a small sip. The liquor was too strong—as soon as it entered my mouth, I spit it all out. My mouth burned painfully, and my throat felt scorched with an unbearable fire. Ethan watched me, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Drink it all," he said, his voice cold and merciless.

Daniel poured more alcohol with shaking hands. "Isabella, please."

I looked at the glasses of alcohol lined up before me and firmly refused: "I'm sorry, I really can't drink."

Ethan's smile widened. "Fine. Gentlemen present. One kiss equals one drink."

My eyes widened in horror. "No, please. I can't."

Ethan's expression turned icy. "Then we'll have to find another way. Give me scissors."

Daniel's face turned white. "Mr. Black, what are you doing?"

Ethan ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. "If you won't kiss, then cut a lock of hair for every drink you refuse."

My heart was pounding almost to the point of bursting. Kissing these men made me sick, but cutting my hair felt like cutting away my past—how many nights had I carefully brushed it, just to have something to be proud of.

Ethan's voice was calm, almost soothing. "It's your decision, Isabella. But be quick."

I cherished my long hair that I had grown for years, but right now, the most important thing was to get out of here safely. I knew Daniel couldn't save me from this demon.

With trembling hands, I took the scissors and undid my ponytail. He stared at my cascading long hair, his eyes flickering slightly. I gritted my teeth and cut the first lock, watching it float to the floor like a piece of my soul being discarded. With each cut, my heart was stabbed deeper. The people around watched in silence, some with pity, others with indifference, while Ethan's smile remained on his face, as if enjoying a good show.

Finally, Ethan raised his hand. "That's enough now. You've done well, Isabella."

I put down the scissors, my hands shaking uncontrollably, tears blurring my vision. I had lost, completely and utterly.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. "The next time we meet, I'll make you a copy of a special video."

My heart felt like it was being whipped, with pain unbearable to ordinary people. I just hoped we would never meet again.

I stumbled out of the club, my legs feeling like lead. Instead of returning to the office, I went straight to a hair salon, my unevenly cut hair drawing pitying glances. As the stylist carefully trimmed what remained of my broken hair, I stared at my reflection—sunken eye sockets, lifeless, like an empty shell. The sparkle that was once there was gone, leaving only a deathly stillness.