Chapter 38

Despite the bright sunshine outside, the room was dark and gloomy, heavy with the scent of medicine. Isabella inhaled deeply, recognizing some of the ingredients as blood-flow accelerants.

She glanced at George. “Can you pull back the curtains? It’s too dark in here.”

Before George could respond, a pillow flew from the shadows. Isabella ducked, but it hit George in the face.

“Hey! What the heck?!” George snapped, rubbing his stinging nose. “Who’s throwing things?” He added thankfully, "Good thing it was just a pillow; if it had been heavier, my handsome face might have been seriously damaged."

With a flick of a switch, the lights came on, illuminating the cluttered room. Isabella struggled to find a place to stand.

Only the figure under the bed covers was still moving, muttering, “Get out! I don’t want treatment!”

Isabella exchanged a knowing glance with George, who immediately closed the door behind them and rushed to the curtains, pulling them open to flood the room with sunlight.

But the figure under the blanket, Jack, shook violently. Before Isabella could approach, he threw off the covers and punched George, who exclaimed in surprise, taking the blow full force.

Jack, clad in black, was tall and somewhat handsome, a faint scar marking the corner of his right eye. He glared at George and Isabella, growling, “I don’t want your help! Get out!”

Outside, Shawn paced anxiously, worried about his son hurting anyone.

Hurried footsteps echoed from the stairs. Cheryl rushed to the second floor. Seeing Shawn, her eyes filled with concern. “What’s going on? Why is Jack’s illness acting up again?” she asked, starting toward the room.

Shawn blocked her. “Hold on. The doctor I mentioned is here.”

Cheryl’s eyes lit up. “Really? You mean Dr. Lovett?”

“That’s right,” Shawn replied. “This time, our son is definitely going to be okay.”

Cheryl was overjoyed. “That’s great!”

The sounds from outside filtered through the door, but Isabella remained focused on Jack’s stubborn resistance. She quickly stepped forward and jabbed a needle into a nerve point on his head. Mid-attack, Jack froze, his body rigid; only his angry eyes remained fixed on Isabella.

George rubbed the sore spot where Jack had hit him, grimacing. “Thank goodness he doesn’t hit that hard, or I might have been knocked out cold.” He thought, Good thing I came in with Isabella. Otherwise, she would have been the one taking the beating. Given her small frame, she wouldn’t last long against even a few punches.

Isabella, however, remained focused, leaning in to check Jack, his defiant gaze intensifying.

“What the heck did you do to me?!” he roared, protesting despite his paralysis.

Isabella furrowed her brow, then looked up at George. “You should step outside for a bit.”

George hesitated, his concern evident. As he began to protest, Isabella said, “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

He studied her expression, understanding her determination. He nodded. “Alright.”

As soon as George left, Shawn and Cheryl rushed over, worry etched on their faces. “Mr. Sampson, what’s happening in there?” they asked anxiously.

George, eyes reflecting his worry, turned to the closed door. “I’m not sure yet.”

Shawn and Cheryl exchanged a worried glance; Cheryl’s grip on Shawn’s hand tightened.

Inside, Isabella surprisingly pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. Jack’s eyes widened in confusion as she settled before him, silently checking her phone. Even immobilized, he was acutely aware of her every move.

Frustration mounted as he struggled to understand her actions. He wanted to scream, but his body wouldn’t cooperate, leaving him to stew in uncomfortable silence.

Soon, an intense itch spread across him. He struggled to break free, but to no avail. Glaring at Isabella, he whimpered, “Stupid woman, let me go!”

Isabella, unfazed, casually scrolled through her phone. Five minutes, then ten, then twenty passed. Jack endured the tormenting itch, powerless to resist.

After checking the time, Isabella put down her phone. Her cool gaze settled on Jack. “Are you going to cooperate with the treatment? If you do, I’ll let you go.”

Exhausted, Jack opened his mouth, but no sound came. Isabella chuckled softly. “What’s the matter? Lost your strength?”

She stood, pocketed her phone, and continued. “If you don’t want to talk, we can communicate another way. Just blink if you agree to cooperate.”

Jack blinked furiously. Isabella nodded in satisfaction, approaching him and removing the needle. The weight of the world seemed to lift from him as he collapsed onto the bed, scratching his itchy skin.

Once the itch subsided, he sighed in relief. Turning to Isabella, he grabbed a figurine from the nightstand and hurled it at her, yelling, “Go to hell, you quack!”

Isabella swiftly dodged, swiftly reapplying the needle. A smirk touched her lips as she immobilized him again, silently taking the figurine and tossing it in the trash. She then resumed scrolling through her phone, finding a comfortable spot to lean against. Jack seethed. Who on earth is this woman? he wondered. Another hour passed.