Chapter 93

Isaac glanced at Irene's plastered leg and explained, "My anger got the better of me."

That was why he had pushed her out of that window.

Irene raised her brow—that was actually his reason to push her, even if she might die?

"What if you'd killed me?"

"From that height? You'd be a cripple at worst," Isaac said, scooping out a spoonful of oatmeal and blowing at it until it was cooled, before finally holding it out to her.

Not used to such kindness, Irene was left staring at him. "It's not poison, is it?"

It was not as if she was being suspicious—she just could not get a read on his attitude.

Isaac was left holding her gaze for seconds. Was he such a terrible villain to her?

As such, he pretended to threaten her. "Not yet. I have to keep you alive to torment you."

Irene actually felt relieved by that—this was the Isaac Jefferson she knew.

With that, she allowed him to feed her, and he patiently did so until she was finished.

He then started to scoop a bowl of chicken soup tha