Chapter 35: Chapter 31: The Slap 2

“I’m not talking about today. I’m talking about every single day you spent with the Lockwood Family,” Lydia Sinclair said aggressively. “We’re both women, so you can stop pretending! The first time I saw you, I could tell your feelings for Silas were more than just a sister’s for her brother. Can you honestly say you’ve never had romantic feelings for him?”

During those years when her love was at its most intense, Isla Prescott wasn’t sure if it had escaped through her eyes, even when she kept her mouth shut.

She was speechless.

Her silence only made Lydia Sinclair angrier.

To Lydia, that silence meant Isla was no longer denying the accusation. It meant she was admitting to her filthy intentions toward Silas Lockwood.

“You’re shameless!” Lydia Sinclair grabbed a drink from the table and violently splashed it on Isla Prescott.

Isla Prescott first smelled the rich aroma of rum, followed by the sharp, stinging cold that seeped into her skin.

“I didn’t steal or cheat anyone. You’re the shameless ones!”

Had Silas Lockwood cheated while they were together? Had Lydia Sinclair come between them? Or had the two secretly conceived a child? The whole situation was a source of lingering resentment for Isla Prescott.

Not to be outdone, she grabbed another bottle from the table and gave Lydia a taste of her own medicine.

Lydia Sinclair got a face full of alcohol. The sticky liquid dripped down her cheeks, ruining her custom-made Hermès jacket.

The Eldest Miss Sinclair, who had been doted on her entire life, had never suffered such humiliation. She went berserk.

“Isla Prescott, go to hell!”

Fueled by her surging rage, Lydia Sinclair smashed a bottle and lunged straight at Isla Prescott with it.

Isla Prescott had assumed this farce would amount to nothing more than a catfight, maybe some hair-pulling. But she had severely underestimated the heiress’s temper. She never imagined Lydia Sinclair would lose control and escalate things to a deadly degree.

“Lydia Sinclair! Stop!”

Just as the shard of glass was about to pierce Isla Prescott’s carotid artery, Silas Lockwood, who had been on the floor, weak from vomiting, abruptly shot up and grabbed the sharp edge.

The glass shard pierced Silas Lockwood’s palm, and bright red blood immediately gushed out.

Isla Prescott was scared speechless.

Lydia Sinclair was startled too. “Silas, Silas, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Knowing she’d done something terrible, she broke down in tears, utterly flustered.

—

Ivan Fulton finally arrived with the bar staff. Seeing the bloody scene in the private room, he, a doctor, immediately rushed over.

But Silas Lockwood’s wound was too deep, and with many glass fragments embedded in the flesh, it was difficult to treat on the spot.

“We need to get to a hospital, now,” Ivan Fulton said.

Isla Prescott and Ivan Fulton supported Silas Lockwood, one on each side, and headed for the door.

Unwilling to let Isla Prescott be near Silas Lockwood, Lydia Sinclair forced her way in between them, shoving Isla to the side.

’Isla Prescott really had to hand it to the woman. Even at a time like this, she still had the energy to squabble over such petty things.’

Silas Lockwood’s bleeding wouldn’t stop, and he was on the verge of collapsing.

Fortunately, the hospital wasn’t far. Ivan Fulton had called ahead to make arrangements, and the director of the emergency department personally came out to receive them.

“This hand…” The director of the emergency department glanced at Silas Lockwood’s hand and asked hesitantly, “What is the patient’s occupation?”

“An airline pilot,” Ivan Fulton said.

“The injury is too deep; he needs surgery immediately. Ivan, contact Dr. Gardner from the surgical department right away.”

“Okay.”

They all knew the director wouldn’t have asked about Silas Lockwood’s profession without a reason. They worried the injury would impact his future life and work.

As Isla Prescott watched Silas Lockwood being wheeled into the operating room, an indescribable emotion welled up inside her. No matter what, he had been injured while saving her.

Lydia Sinclair, the culprit, was trembling with anxiety.

Ivan Fulton had planned to wait until after the surgery to notify Yvette Shaw to avoid worrying her too much, but Lydia Sinclair couldn’t resist calling her first.

She desperately needed someone to forgive her in Silas Lockwood’s place, and she knew Yvette Shaw would be that person.

Upon hearing the news, Yvette Shaw rushed to the hospital.

“Auntie, I’m so sorry…” The moment Lydia Sinclair saw Yvette Shaw, she threw herself into her arms. “I didn’t mean to hurt Silas. It was Isla Prescott… It was all because Isla Prescott has designs on Silas, and she threw a drink at me! I smashed the bottle and went after her in a fit of rage, but I never thought Silas would block it for her… I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

What a performance—the villain pointing the finger and playing the victim first.

Yvette Shaw had just lost her husband, and now her son was in trouble. She was a nervous wreck.

“Ivan, how is Silas? What’s his condition?”

Ivan Fulton replied, “Auntie, Silas’s hand is pretty badly injured. First, they need to clean out the glass fragments and then stitch it up. The surgery might take a while.”

“Will there be any lasting damage to his hand?”

Ivan Fulton chose his words carefully. “Auntie, it’s too early to say. Please try not to worry. We’ll have to wait until after the surgery and see what the surgeon says.”

Yvette Shaw wasn’t a fool. From Ivan Fulton’s words, she could guess that the outlook for Silas Lockwood’s hand was grim.

“How could this happen? How could this happen?”

Yvette Shaw was both worried and furious. She turned, and before anyone could react, she viciously slapped Isla Prescott across the face.

Isla Prescott’s father had often beaten her as a child. After escaping that demon of a man, she hadn’t been slapped in a very long time. Yvette Shaw put her entire body into the slap, channeling all her rage. Isla Prescott saw stars as the familiar childhood feeling of terror and helplessness washed over her once more.

“Auntie, what are you doing!” Ivan Fulton stepped in front of Isla Prescott. “Isabelle did nothing wrong throughout this entire incident. Why did you hit her?”

“Did nothing wrong?” Yvette Shaw glared at Isla Prescott. “As the Lockwood Family’s adopted daughter, she knew her position was sensitive, yet she failed to consciously keep her distance from Silas, causing a misunderstanding between a brother and his future sister-in-law. That in itself was her greatest mistake! She is the root of this whole accident!”

Lydia Sinclair had known Yvette Shaw would defend her unconditionally.

Hearing Yvette Shaw say this, her own guilt lessened considerably. “That’s right! This is all Isla Prescott’s fault!”

“Who’s right and who’s wrong is for the police to decide.”

Shane Sterling’s voice came from around the corner of the hallway.

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