But he had remained as unmoved as a monk, even throwing away the shirts she had worn.
Gradually, she lost the will to try.
And now, here he was, telling her to wear them again.
Though furious, Isabel had no choice.
It was better than being naked.
She picked out a black shirt and a new, unopened pair of boxers.
Then she went into the bathroom.
The shirt was long enough to cover her thighs.
His boxers could serve as shorts.
It would have to do.
After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she went out and sat down at the table.
As she picked up her fork, the clattering chain felt heavy on her wrist. "Can you at least take this off for me?"
Adrian sat beside her, not even glancing her way. "Is it stopping you from holding your fork?"
Isabel gritted her teeth and endured it.
One day, she would make Adrian kneel before her, slap his own face, and admit he was wrong.
...
After the meal, Adrian left.
Confined to this space, Isabel had no phone or computer.
With nothing else to do, she found some books and started reading.
At noon, Adrian brought her lunch himself.
After eating, she went back to her books and continued reading until evening.
When Adrian entered again, he was followed by a maid who set down a large stack of books.
"..."
Isabel said nothing. After dinner, she resumed her reading.
But Adrian took the book from her hands. "You should digest your food for a bit."
"..."
Isabel instinctively tried to stop him.
But even with both hands free, she was no match for him, let alone chained as she was.
Just as she was about to give up in frustration, there was a knock on the door.
"Mr. Blackwell, there's trouble at the Golden Tower."
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