"You should go back to your room and rest early," Lady Emily urged. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she added, "No one is allowed to leave. If anyone leaves, they must want to make me angry. Oh, it hurts... it really hurts... so painful..."
After speaking, the three of them quickly left.
Isabella stood there, stunned. "...?"
Ethan, slightly drunk, rubbed his forehead and said, "Just stay the night. Don't upset Grandma."
With that, he got up and swayed as he walked upstairs.
Isabella was at a loss. If Ethan took the bedroom, where was she supposed to sleep? Realizing this, she hurried after him.
"Wait! We need to clarify where we're sleeping tonight!"
Ethan was quite drunk, but he moved fast. By the time Isabella rushed into the room, he was already taking off his clothes to shower.
For the first time, she got a full view of his broad, muscular shoulders and well-defined chest—something she hadn't noticed that morning.
She had finally gotten a good look at Ethan's body!
Realizing what she was doing, Isabella quickly snapped back to her senses. She stood with her hands on her hips and declared, "This is my room. Get out!"
Ethan sneered. "Your room? If I remember correctly, this is our bridal chamber."
"I don't care whose room it is. I'm sleeping here tonight. You can find another room," Isabella said firmly, making it clear she wasn't backing down.
Ethan, still shirtless, took a step closer, about to say something when a commotion suddenly erupted outside the door.
Without warning, he covered Isabella's mouth and pressed her against the door, listening as the noise outside grew louder.
"Ugh!" Isabella's eyes widened in fury. She glared at Ethan, struggling to break free.
She fought against his grip, but each time she moved, he held her down again.
Outside, Lady Emily giggled in satisfaction, nudging her husband with her elbow.
"It's done. They won't be able to leave each other now," she whispered.
Henry smirked. "Of course. That wine cost tens of thousands of dollars—it wasn't meant to be wasted."
"Come on, let's not disturb them," Lady Emily urged, and they quickly left.
Once the voices outside faded, Ethan finally released Isabella.
He sneered. "Always using the same tricks. Do you really lack men that much?"
Before, Henry's entire family had sided with Isabella, helping her set him up. It had only deepened his disgust toward her.
"You bastard!" Isabella raised her hand to slap him, but this time, Ethan caught her wrist, preventing her from landing the blow.
"What are you afraid of? I wasn't interested in you before, and I'm even less interested now," Ethan said coldly. He let go of her wrist and added with a smirk, "Unless... you still have feelings for me?"
With that, he turned and walked toward the bathroom, his lips curling into a mocking smile.
Through the reflection in the bathroom mirror, he saw Isabella furiously wiping her mouth and spitting, as if trying to rid herself of something dirty.
His gaze darkened.
It seemed she really had amnesia.
Isabella did have amnesia. She truly had no memory of what had happened between her and Ethan over the past three years.
But when she saw the coldness in his eyes and heard the sarcasm in his voice, a sharp pain pierced her chest.
Had she really been so deeply in love with Ethan before?
How did she fall for him? And why didn't even Olivia know?
And tonight… what was she supposed to do?
There wasn't even a sofa in the room!
She would rather stay up all night than share a bed with Ethan.
Determined to protect herself, she searched the room and found a pair of eyebrow scissors, which she discreetly tucked into her pocket.
If Ethan tried anything while drunk, she wouldn't hesitate to cut him and turn him into a eunuch.
When Ethan emerged from the shower, Isabella finally understood how they used to sleep.
He tossed a blanket onto the floor and said nonchalantly, "You used to sleep here."
Isabella blinked in disbelief, pointing first at the floor, then at herself. "I slept here? Are you sure?"
The ground was covered with a soft cashmere carpet, but it was still the ground.
She was the young lady of the Wilson family! How could she have slept on the floor?
Ethan, drying his hair with a towel, sneered. "You were afraid of being laughed at, so even if it meant sleeping on the floor, you insisted on staying in the same room with me to prove your status as the Anderson family's young madam."
Isabella was speechless.
Had she really been that foolish just to save face?
"Forget it. I'll sleep in another room," she muttered.
Lady Emily and Grandma Hannah should be asleep by now. If she sneaked into another room, no one would notice.
But when she reached the door, she found that it wouldn't open.
It was locked.
From the outside.
This was beyond belief!
Ethan, unfazed, simply said, "Don't bother struggling. The door won't open until tomorrow. This is a trick you used to pull all the time."
Isabella stood frozen.
Had her brain malfunctioned in the past?
Helpless, she turned back. Ethan had already dried his hair and changed into his pajamas.
His back was facing her, and for the first time, she noticed something shocking—his broad back was covered in scars.
Some were from knives. Others, from gunshots.
Her heart tightened.
What had happened to him?
She was about to ask when Ethan turned around, catching her staring.
He smirked. "Are you mesmerized?"
Isabella scoffed. Could this man be any more self-absorbed?
It was infuriating!
Ethan didn't pay her any more attention. He climbed into bed, his voice lazy but taunting. "Don't climb up here in the middle of the night again."
Isabella's jaw clenched. "You wish!"
She had no intention of sharing a bed with him.
Without another word, she grabbed the blanket and settled onto the floor, choosing the farthest spot from Ethan.
She had zero plans to get close to him.
As she stared at the dark ceiling, thoughts flooded her mind.
This day had been a whirlwind—both sweet and bitter.
She was happy that she had finally graduated from university, free from exams and early morning classes.
She even had a stable job now.
But… she was also anxious.
Because she couldn't remember what had happened.