I struggled to hide my disappointnt as I examined the herbs I'd managed to purchase with my ager funds. These pathetic specins would barely help my cultivation, but they were all I could afford. The knowledge flowing through my mind from my father's jade pendant was vast and powerful, but without proper resources, progress would be painfully slow.
"Those herbs look absolutely dreadful," a lodic voice called out.
I nearly dropped my bag in surprise. Standing at the entrance to the villa was Isabelle Ashworth, looking radiant in a simple white blouse and dark skirt that sohow made her seem more elegant than if she'd been draped in diamonds.
"Miss Ashworth," I stamred. "I didn't expect to see you here."
She glided toward , her movents graceful and purposeful. "I thought I told you to call Isabelle."
"Isabelle," I corrected myself. "What brings you here?"
Instead of answering, she reached for the bag in my hands. "Let see what you've bought."
Reluctantly, I handed over my purchases. She peered inside, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rising in what could only be described as horror.
"You cannot possibly be serious about using these," she said, turning the bag upside down. The herbs tumbled onto the ground between us.
"Hey!" I protested. "Those cost almost everything I had!" If you're not on *, you're viewing a copy.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," she replied without a hint of remorse. "Liam, you're about to beco one of the most powerful alchemists this city has ever seen. You need proper materials."
Her confidence in my future success stunned . Three years of being treated like dirt by the Sterling family had conditioned to expect mockery, not faith. The way she spoke—as if my rise to power was an inevitability rather than a possibility—left speechless.
Isabelle's expression softened as she studied my face. "You really don't see it, do you? The potential inside you?"
"I—I'm just starting to understand what I'm capable of," I admitted.
"Well, I've seen it from the beginning," she said, stepping closer. "When everyone else saw a doormat, I saw soone extraordinary hiding beneath the surface." She reached out and brushed invisible lint from my shoulder, her touch sending electricity through my body. "Tomorrow, I'll have proper herbs delivered here. Quality befitting your talent."
"I can't accept—"
"You can and you will," she interrupted. "Consider it an investnt. When you're running the most prestigious alchemy shop in Veridia City, I'll expect preferential treatnt for my orders."
I couldn't help but smile at her presumption. "You seem very certain of my success."
"I'm certain of everything I decide to be certain about," she replied with complete conviction. "My grandfather always said I have an eye for potential, and I've never been wrong."
Sothing in her eyes, sothing warm and genuine, broke through the walls I'd built around my heart. After years of contempt and ridicule, having soone—especially soone like Isabelle Ashworth—believe in so completely was overwhelming.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "Not just for the villa or the herbs you're offering, but for seeing sothing in when no one else did."
Her lips curved into a smile that transford her already beautiful face into sothing breathtaking. "You don't need to thank for stating the obvious, Liam Knight."
Our mont was shattered by the sound of several vehicles screeching to a halt outside the villa. Isabelle frowned, turning toward the noise.
"Are you expecting company?" she asked.
Before I could answer, the gate burst open. Ten n stread into the front yard, led by a tall figure I recognized instantly from news reports and whispered rumors.
Roman Volkov.
The infamous cri lord of Havenwood City stood before , his scarred face twisted in a predatory grin. His expensive suit couldn't disguise the brutality in his eyes. Behind him, his n spread out in a semi-circle, several holding tal pipes and baseball bats.
"Liam Knight," Roman's voice was surprisingly soft, almost gentle, which sohow made it more terrifying. "You've been making quite a na for yourself, haven't you? Beating up Gideon Blackwood in broad daylight."
My mouth went dry. Seraphina's warning hadn't been empty—Roman Volkov had actually co for . I instinctively stepped in front of Isabelle, trying to shield her from view.
"This is between you and , Volkov," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Let the lady leave, and we can talk."
Roman's laughter was hollow. "How noble. But I'm afraid we're past the talking stage. You see, Gideon pays handsoly for my protection. When soone breaks his ribs, I break their everything." His eyes narrowed. "On your knees, Knight. Maybe I'll consider just crippling you instead of killing you."
I felt fear coiling in my stomach. My newfound powers were real, but I was still a novice, and Roman had ten n with him. I had no idea if I could protect both myself and Isabelle.
"I won't kneel," I said, channeling energy through my body as I'd practiced. If I was going down, I'd go down fighting.
Roman sighed theatrically. "That's disappointing but not surprising. n with death wishes rarely choose the easy path." He nodded to his thugs. "Break his legs first."
Two n advanced, baseball bats raised. I braced myself, calculating which one to take down first and how to keep Isabelle protected.
"That's quite enough," Isabelle's voice rang out, clear and commanding.
Before I could stop her, she stepped around , facing Roman Volkov directly. I reached for her arm, desperate to pull her back to safety, but she shook off my hand with surprising strength.
"Miss, you don't want to be involved in this," Roman said, his tone slightly more respectful than it had been with . "Walk away now, and we'll forget we saw you."
Isabelle took another step forward, completely fearless. "Look at , Roman Volkov. Look carefully at who you're threatening."
Roman squinted, clearly annoyed at being delayed from his violent business. But as his eyes focused on Isabelle's face, sothing extraordinary happened. His expression changed, morphing from irritation to shock, then to sothing I'd never expected to see on the face of Havenwood City's most feared criminal.
Pure terror.
Roman Volkov stared at Isabelle, blinking hard; when he got a clear view of her face, his expression imdiately shifted, his complexion turned pale, and his body trembled violently. The baseball bat in his hand clattered to the ground as he took an involuntary step backward.
"M-Miss Ashworth," he stamred, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had no idea... I didn't recognize..."
The transformation was astounding. The man who had confidently threatened to break my legs seconds ago now looked like he wanted to disappear into the earth. Behind him, his thugs exchanged confused glances, clearly bewildered by their boss's reaction.
Isabelle smiled, but there was nothing warm about it now. It was the smile of a predator who had cornered its prey.
"Now that we understand each other," she said softly, "perhaps we should discuss why you're threatening soone under my protection."
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