Chapter 33: Isabella's Vendetta
"Where... where am I?" Elliott sat up in bed, his last memory being the moment he collapsed after Amelia.Rothschild had left.
The image of Amelia.Rothschild gazing at Noah.Kennedys still stung his heart, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. Forget it. Even if it weren't Noah.Kennedys, Amelia.Rothschild was never mine to begin with. Maybe it's better this way—no false hopes, no delusions.
"You're finally awake," came a woman's voice. "I was starting to think you were dead. What a waste of my medicine that would've been. At least now it wasn't for nothing."
She stepped inside, draped in flowing violet robes, her long hair elegantly coiled and pinned. In her hands, she carried a steaming bowl of medicinal brew.
Had Elliott been in a clearer state, he might have been struck by her beauty. While she lacked Amelia.Rothschild's ethereal grace, there was something transcendent about her—like a celestial maiden descended to the mortal realm.
"Well, glad your medicine didn't go to waste," Elliott said with a weak chuckle. "Mind telling me where I am?"
The woman arched a brow. "I saved your life, and the first thing you ask is your location? If I meant you harm, would I have bothered healing you? You're safe—stop worrying about where you are."
Elliott grinned. "I've got urgent matters to attend to. Can't stay here long. So, miss, may I know your name? And, uh, where exactly is here?"
"Don't move," she ordered. "I still need you in one piece—you owe me a favor."
Elliott laughed dryly. "Seems everyone who saves me wants something in return. Fine, name it. If it's within my power, I'll do it. Now, where are we?"
"Good, you're not completely ungrateful," she said. "I'm Isabella. And I need you to kill someone."
"Isabella..." Elliott mused. "Where's your Henry.Rockefeller? Not with you?"
The moment the words left his mouth, her expression darkened. In a flash, she was upon him, delivering two sharp slaps across his face. "How do you know him? Where is he?!"
Elliott had meant to dodge, but his body betrayed him—his meridians were clogged, his qi stagnant. The blows landed hard, leaving his cheeks burning.
"Your man ran off, and I'm the one getting hit?" he snapped.
Smack! Smack! Two more strikes. "Men are all the same!" Isabella hissed.
Stars danced in Elliott's vision as he cursed inwardly. Damn you, Henry.Rockefeller. Did you seduce this woman in the valley and then vanish? No wonder she's taking it out on me!
"How do you know Henry.Rockefeller?" Isabella demanded, stepping closer.
Elliott instinctively shrank back. "Stop hitting me! I'll tell you where he is—just spare my face!"
She lowered her raised hand—only to spin and deliver another stinging slap. "Talk."
Damn it all. Elliott seethed silently before answering. "How long was I out? Right before I blacked out, he left... with the Kennedys' young master." He wisely omitted any mention of Amelia.Rothschild—Isabella's jealousy was not something he wanted to provoke.
"You've been unconscious for days," Isabella said. "Where did they go?"
Elliott shook his head and fell silent.
"Useless," she muttered. "Fine. Where are you headed? I need to find Henry.Rockefeller."
Elliott smirked. "Weren't you going to have me kill someone? Shouldn't you heal me first?"
"I don't have time for this," Isabella snapped. "I'm being hunted, and I've wasted enough days on you."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode out, leaving Elliott to nurse both his injuries and his grievances.