Chapter 4

Isabella burst into the room, her eyes wide with panic. She saw Daniel on the floor, clutching his head, and Ethan nursing his injured hand.

"Daniel!" she screamed, rushing to his side. She looked up at Ethan, her face contorted with rage. "What did you do to him? What did you do?"

Max whined, nudging Ethan' s leg, confused by the sudden tension.

"It was an accident," Ethan started to explain, but Isabella cut him off.

"Accident? He' s hurt! And your beast of a dog attacked him!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Max. "I saw it!"

She hadn' t seen anything but the aftermath. But her mind was already made up. Daniel was the victim. Ethan, and now Max, were the aggressors.

"Max didn't attack him. He was just scared," Ethan said, his voice strained.

"Lies! All you do is lie!" Isabella knelt beside Daniel, her touch gentle. "Danny, are you okay? Talk to me."

Daniel moaned, a thin trickle of blood appearing from a cut on his temple.

Isabella' s gaze, when it returned to Ethan, was murderous. She stood up, her body trembling.

"That dog," she said, her voice dangerously low. "He' s a menace. I want him dealt with. Now."

She gestured to the two security men who had followed her in. "Take that dog. And make sure he never threatens anyone again."

Ethan' s blood ran cold. "Isabella, no! He' s just a dog! He didn't do anything!"

He moved to stand in front of Max, shielding him. "Don't touch him."

Isabella' s laugh was chilling. "You still don' t get it, do you, Ethan? You mean nothing. Your dog means less."

The guards advanced. Ethan tried to fight them off, to protect Max, but he was still reeling from the pain in his hand, and they were professionals. They shoved him aside.

Max barked, terrified, as they grabbed his collar.

"Isabella, please!" Ethan begged, his voice breaking. "He saved you once! Don't you remember? That man on the street, Max protected you!"

Years ago, a mugger had accosted Isabella on a late walk. Max, then just a puppy, had barked and snapped ferociously, driving the man away. Isabella had been grateful then, had even petted Max, calling him her little hero.

She didn't even glance at him now. Her face was a mask of cold fury.

"Take him," she repeated to the guards.

They dragged a struggling, yelping Max out of the room.

Ethan felt a despair so profound it was like drowning. He sank to his knees. He heard a door slam, then a single, choked-off yelp.

Silence.

A part of him died with Max.

Isabella helped Daniel to his feet, supporting him. "Let's get you to a doctor, Danny."

She didn't look back at Ethan as she led Daniel out of the room.

The silence in the study was absolute, crushing. Max was gone. Killed on her orders.

This was the cruelty he remembered. This was the Isabella who had destroyed him.

Later, one of the regular household staff, an older woman named Martha who had known Ethan since he was a boy, found him still on the floor. Her eyes were full of pity.

"Mr. Ethan," she whispered, "they... they took Max to the old stables. Ms. Rossi's men..."

He didn't need her to finish.

He was then confined to his rooms, under guard. No phone, no contact with the outside world. It was like his first life, the torture, the isolation, beginning all over again.

The pattern. It was always the same. His proximity to Isabella led to suffering, to near-death, to death.

He lay on his bed, the physical pain from his hand and the emotional agony a suffocating blanket. Max. His loyal, loving Max. Gone.

This was the breaking point. Not just for his resolve to escape, but for any lingering, microscopic shard of feeling he might have had for Isabella Rossi. It was gone, incinerated by the loss of Max.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, feverish from an infection in his hand that was left untreated. Hours, maybe a day, passed.

When he finally managed to get to his feet, unsteady but resolute, he knew what he had to do.

He found a heavy letter opener on his desk. He used it to pry open the locked door. The guard outside was surprised.

Ethan walked past him, his steps weak but determined. He went to the main living area, where he knew Isabella would be.

She was there, with Daniel, who had a small bandage on his temple. They looked up as he entered.

Ethan' s voice was raspy, but clear. "Isabella."

She looked at him, her expression cold. "What do you want?"

"I want you to know," he said, meeting her gaze directly. "That as of this moment, you are dead to me. Whatever existed between us, whatever history, whatever connection I thought we had, it's gone. You've killed it. Just like you killed my dog."

His words hung in the air. Daniel looked uncomfortable. Isabella' s eyes flickered, but her expression didn't change.

This was his declaration. His true and final emotional detachment. He was severing the cord, publicly, definitively.

He turned and walked away, not waiting for a response. He had to get out. Before he ended up dead again.