Thor’s voice dripped with contempt, every word edged with ice. His jet-black eyes locked onto Isabela’s with a force that felt almost unbearable.

Isabela pushed herself upright slowly, blinking as though waking from a nightmare. Her pale face—still etched with the shadow of recent loss—twisted into a performance of confusion.

“Thor… what are you talking about?”

He took another step, stopping beside the bed and leaning down until his face hovered inches from hers.

“About your little manipulations. All this time. You really thought I wouldn’t figure out your games—the way you tried to tear me away from the only woman who ever…” He stopped, bitterness catching in his throat. “…the only woman who ever made me feel something real?”

“I love you!” Isabela cried, reaching for his wrist. “I did it for love! You were going to leave with her—I panicked!”

Thor jerked his arm back with disgust, as if her touch were something rotten.

“That isn’t love. It’s sickness. Obsession. Pure selfishness.” He