Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight) novel Chapter 9
Chapter 9: Chapter 9 – The Enigma of Power and a Plate of Noodles
Roman Volkov’s face had turned ashen. I’d never seen someone so dangerous look so utterly terrified. One of his men—clearly not understanding the situation—stepped forward with a smirk, eyeing Isabelle.
“Boss, who cares who this chick is? She’s hot, but—”
“Shut up!” Roman roared, backhanding the man so hard he stumbled backward. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking about?” His voice dropped to a frantic whisper. “That’s Isabelle Ashworth, you fool!”
The thug rubbed his jaw, still looking confused. “So what? Some rich girl from—”
“Even the Magistrate from Eldoria Province stands when she enters a room,” Roman hissed. “The Mayor of Havenwood City personally answers her calls, day or night.”
My mind reeled. Who exactly was Isabelle? I knew her family was powerful, but this level of fear from someone like Roman Volkov was incomprehensible.
Isabelle’s expression remained chillingly calm. “Your man seems to have a poor understanding of respect, Mr. Volkov.”
“I apologize for his stupidity, Miss Ashworth,” Roman said, his voice trembling. “He will be severely disciplined.”
Isabelle tilted her head slightly. “But not here, and not now. You’re still standing.”
The implication was crystal clear. Without hesitation, Roman dropped to one knee before her, head bowed. His men exchanged shocked glances before hastily following his example.
“I swear on my life, he will pay for his disrespect,” Roman said, not daring to look up. “And I… I had no idea Mr. Knight was under your protection. It was an unforgivable mistake.”
“Mistakes have consequences,” Isabelle replied, her voice soft but somehow more frightening for it.
Roman nodded frantically. Then, in a move that left me stunned, he pulled a knife from his jacket. Before I could react, he plunged it into his own thigh. His face contorted in pain, but he didn’t make a sound.
“My sincerest apologies, Miss Ashworth. To both you and Mr. Knight,” he gasped, blood seeping through his expensive pants. “It won’t happen again.”
“I should hope not,” Isabelle said, seemingly unmoved by the display. “You may leave now.”
“Thank you for your mercy,” Roman breathed, struggling to his feet, his wounded leg barely supporting his weight. He motioned to his men, who scrambled backwards toward their cars, not turning their backs to us until they reached the gate.
When the last vehicle peeled away, I finally found my voice. “What the hell was that?”
Isabelle’s demeanor transformed instantly. The icy authority that had terrified Roman melted away, replaced by the warm, playful woman I was beginning to know.
“That was Roman Volkov learning a lesson in manners,” she said, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve. “Now, I believe you owe me.”
“Owe you?” I spluttered, still trying to process what I’d witnessed.
“For saving your legs from being broken,” she explained with a mischievous smile. “I think you should treat me to a meal as thanks.”
The whiplash of her mood shift left me disoriented. One minute she was making a crime lord stab himself, the next she was asking for food like a friend.
“I… don’t have any money,” I admitted, embarrassed. “I spent everything on those herbs you threw away.”
Isabelle’s eyes sparkled. “Then cook for me. I bet you make something delicious.”
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