Married to my Archenemy

"Forget about her," Isabella looked away and turned to James. "I heard you're planning to open a psychological counseling center in Crown City?"

"Yes, I've already found a location, but we're still short on staff. Would you be interested in helping me out?" James smiled. "The pay will definitely be better than what you're getting now, and the work hours are flexible."

Isabella smiled and said, "I'll think about it. By the way, can you recommend a good psychologist for me? I want to try hypnosis to recover my memories."

She didn't want to recover her memories before because she didn't know her parents were in trouble. But now that she knew, her thoughts had changed.

Hypnosis was the fastest way to stimulate her brain to recover her memories, but it was more commonly used abroad than in the city.

James paused for a moment and said, "If you don't mind, why don't I do it for you?"

He had been studying psychology abroad and working as a psychologist. He had only recently returned to the city.

Upon consideration, he was indeed the most suitable candidate. After thinking for a moment, Isabella made a decision. "Okay, I'll trouble you with that."

James had other patients and had already scheduled their appointments, so he needed to go back and rearrange everything before notifying Isabella to come in for treatment.

Meanwhile, in the private room where Iris was, a different scene was unfolding.

There were clearly empty seats at the table, but Iris was kneeling at the man's feet like a servant.

She had a black collar around her neck, allowing the man to humiliate and abuse her in every way.

The man stepped on her stomach with one foot, exerting pressure on the position of her womb and ovaries.

His voice was cold and sinister as he asked, "Was that Isabella just now?"

Iris endured the pain and replied, "Yes, Mr. Brown Martins."

"Heh, she's becoming more and more to my taste." The man's mouth curved into an evil smile.

Iris shuddered in fear. If Brown Martins took a liking to her, she would be better off dead than alive. But if he got tired of her and threw her away, she would be in an even worse situation.

However, whether she lived or died was not up to her, but entirely up to Brown Martins.

Isabella, Ethan has protected you for three years. From now on, you're on your own.

After dinner, Isabella and James were about to part ways. Before leaving, James suddenly stopped Isabella and said, "If six years ago..."

If I hadn't left, would we still be together now?

"What?" Isabella looked at him in confusion.

"Nothing, forget it. We'll talk about it later." James smiled. He planned to wait until Isabella divorced and then pursue her again.

"Oh." Isabella waved goodbye to him, not knowing what he was thinking.

Isabella didn't go home immediately. Instead, she went to the cemetery to pay her respects to her parents and offer flowers.

She swore in front of her parents' graves that she would take back everything she had lost, and the Wilson Corporation would rise again under her leadership.

No matter what the cost, she was willing to pay it.

Isabella returned to the Anderson family's residence exhausted, but strangely, no one was there except for the servants.

Do they also stay at Rose Manor tonight? Without seeing that annoying person, Isabella's mood improved a lot. She took a comfortable hot bath and came out wearing a camisole nightgown.

The heating was on at home, making it as hot as summer. However, as soon as she came out, she froze. Ethan didn't know when he came back and was unbuttoning his shirt.

Ethan casually lifted his eyes, revealing a hint of depth. In the dim light, Isabella's long hair scattered over her shoulders, and the white silk camisole nightgown made her skin as white as snow.

The thin nightgown clung to her body, outlining her graceful curves.

Isabella's mother was once the most beautiful woman in Crown City, and Isabella inherited her beauty perfectly. Coupled with the youthful vigor that comes with youth, she was like a bud waiting to bloom, with a deadly allure.

Thinking about the contents of the diary, Ethan's eyes became cold and sinister.

As soon as she saw Ethan, Isabella's alarm bells went off. Thinking about her current state of being alone, she even felt like dying.

"What are you looking at? If you keep staring! I'll gouge your eyes out!" Isabella snapped. She had been feeling a little down earlier, but now her fighting spirit surged as she glared fiercely at Ethan. "Turn your face away!"

Ethan sneered but complied, turning his head aside. Isabella immediately rushed to the bed like lightning and tightly wrapped herself in the blanket.

Nonchalantly, Ethan continued unbuttoning his shirt. "You dressed like this on purpose, just so I could see, right?"

When he turned back, he noticed Isabella already tucked into the bed. His smile grew even colder. "So eager?"

Isabella was stunned. "What?" she scoffed. "If you're unwell, go see a doctor!"

She added hurriedly, "I didn't expect you to come. I thought you'd be staying at your personal Mansion tonight." Isabella had no desire to be misunderstood and sought to explain herself.

Ethan, assuming she was merely making excuses, ignored her and continued packing his belongings.

Startled, Isabella sat up slightly, her dark eyes following his every movement. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving for a business trip," Ethan replied coldly.

"But aren't we finalizing the divorce tomorrow?" Isabella, visibly excited, tried to get up but thought better of it and sat back. Her wide eyes remained fixated on him.

"A billion-dollar contract takes priority over everything else." Ethan's voice was as cold as his demeanor.

He had important matters to attend to in the capital city involving a chip project. If successful, it would propel the Anderson Group's assets to unprecedented heights. Nothing would deter him from this business trip.

Just then, Ethan's phone buzzed with a call from his secretary.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ethan. We've been unable to find anyone proficient in Italian and international sign language." The secretary's tone was strained. The Italian client, a representative of the prestigious Italian group, was deaf-mute, necessitating specific communication skills.