I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 143 I Never Kill My Family Members (8K Long Chapter, Requesting Monthly Tickets and Subscriptions)

Pain and plague are not quite the same as the pain and plague that Richard understands.

The plague is more like a way of transmission or spread.

The pain was even stranger.

Richard didn't have time to think about the problem right now; he focused on paddling the kayak and sped towards No. 1200, Wanding Mountain Villa.

Gunshots rang out in the middle of the night, waking Evan.

He walked into the yard wearing a bathrobe and slippers.

Bang bang bang!

Another burst of gunfire rang out from the sea.

Evan had a platform extending out from his private dock, and he leaned on the railing, looking around.

The cape blocked his view of Hart Island, so he couldn't figure out where the gunshots were coming from.

But the gunshots continued.

Evan was furious. He hated noise, especially gunfights in the middle of the night: "Damn bastards! Gunfights every day! I'll kill these gangsters sooner or later!"

Just then, the phone screen lit up.

His editor sent him a message: "Evan, the review committee has decided to postpone it for another six months, and all seven of your books will be temporarily taken off the shelves."

Evan was furious and immediately replied: "FXXK! This isn't fair!"

Just then, he heard the sound of oars splashing on the sea, and then saw Richard rowing towards him from a distance.

Evan was stunned: "You?"

Richard narrowed his eyes.

Evan's actions here were truly unexpected; what happened tonight must not be known to outsiders.

A painful touch!

Evan felt a sudden, sharp pain in his heart and immediately lost the ability to resist. He clutched his heart and bent over.

The fence only reached Evan's waist, with half of his body hanging helplessly over it.

Richard used his magical hand to grab his pajamas again and pulled them sharply.

Evan immediately lost his balance and tumbled over the railing.

In the instant he passed by Richard, he saw Richard's cold eyes.

thump!

Evan fell into the sea.

Richard was splashed with seawater.

The water surface returned to calm within seconds.

The light on Evan's phone screen flickered on the sea surface and then disappeared.

Only a string of bubbles remained on the surface of the water; nothing else was left.

Richard silently gazed at the sea.

Soon, deathly energy drifted out.

Evan is dead.

Richard then continued rowing, still annoyed: "Evan, you've got a good time. I was going to let you suffer, but you died without any pain. You really hit the jackpot."

Unfortunately, there was no warning about "pain and plague".

It seems that killing doesn't necessarily bring rewards.

Do I need to kill multiple people in succession?

According to the nature of the system, as knowledge increases, the demand grows.

For example, regarding the topic of "soul and desire," one can initially gain knowledge by reading endocrinology textbooks, but as knowledge increases, the rate of knowledge acquisition slows down.

This time, I gained the knowledge of "Pain and Plague" by killing 10 people in a row. What about next time? It might become 20!

How many people do you need to kill to level up?

This is far too easy to expose.

Richard tied his kayak to his own dock.

An owl landed on my shoulder.

Richard dispelled the flesh puppet, the owl died but was quickly resurrected, and the 13-hour time was reset.

Richard took out a cell phone and let the owl catch it: "Put it at the entrance of the warehouse at the Kaneseros meat processing plant."

The owl immediately took flight and disappeared into the darkness.

Richard returned to his second-floor bedroom and looked out at the dark sea.

Hart Island must be quite lively.

He continued to ponder the details of the killing problem in the "Pain and Plague" branch.

If killing someone with a gun counts as murder, then does running them over with a car count?

If I were driving myself, what if it was an accident caused by autopilot?

Or, does developing a virus that kills people count?

What if I didn't develop the virus, but merely helped it spread or transmitted it?

What if the virus doesn't kill a person, but causes multiple complications, and those complications kill the person?

If we don't count direct murder, can we count it as killing 0.1 people?

If we're going to consider that, what about drugs? Viruses can cause complications, and drugs can also lower the body's immunity, ultimately leading to death as well.

Does that count?

If that counts, can I become the Tokyo University version of Lao Bai?

Furthermore, if killing someone with a gun is considered murder, what about killing someone with a mushroom egg?

If I press the launch button for the mushroom egg, causing the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people, does that count?

If mushroom eggs don't count, then does my killing people by controlling artillery count?

It should be counted.

So where is the limit, or the boundary of judgment, of this "external weapon"?

Also, does it count if the flesh and blood puppet I summoned kills someone?

Does my servant commit murder count?

Does it count as my servant killing someone with a weapon?

Where did my servant press the mushroom egg button?

Richard carefully considered the boundary conditions of "pain and plague".

Killing people directly once or twice is fine, but killing a large number of people is too easy to expose.

It would be troublesome if we were targeted.

It's best to use another method.

For example, if killing by servants counts, then servants are a very good method.

If I get targeted, I'll just commit suicide to end it all.

These details require further testing in the future.

Currently, magic restoration relies on Debbie, and [Fresh Flesh] can be obtained by drawing blood from the Manhattan Anti-Aging and Metabolism Lab. The remaining limitations are mental capacity and the upper limit of [Blood Box].

To improve your spirit, you need to raise the level of your [Soul and Desire] or upgrade the [Withered Resentment] ring.

A level 3 [Soul and Desire] + level 2 [Withered Resentment] ring should raise your Spirit to 15, which should be enough to summon a fourth servant.

Of the three servants, Christina specializes in research and development and is the core of the immortality research. Although she has not yet produced any results, she has a great influence and is of great help.

Catherine herself is of average ability, but Debbie is very important to her, and she cannot give up on Catherine.

Brian has been plagued by troubles until now, and Richard has had enough; this politician has too limited influence.

That's so useless!

After this Hart Island shootout, I hope Brian can clean up the mess, get all the benefits he's entitled to, and not disappoint me again.

Otherwise, Richard wouldn't mind replacing his servant, such as Theodore, or that so-called King of New York, Alger.

Unfortunately, finding an opportunity to meet these people alone is extremely difficult.

For the fourth servant, you could consider finding someone who does dirty work, or perhaps a wealthy man.

Both have their uses.

If killing can also increase the "Pain and Plague" branch, Richard would be more inclined to be a ruthless person who can do dirty work.

I can't be the one to handle every problem, can I?

There's also the issue of upgrading the [Withered Resentment] ring.

Once we take Hart Island, we'll have plenty of time to use the [Withered Resentment] ring to absorb all the death energy on Hart Island and see how many levels we can gain.

Just then, a woman's voice came from next door: "Evan! Evan! Where are you?"

Evan's young wife came out of the room. She was a typical dark-haired beauty with a great figure, curvaceous and alluring, and even dressed provocatively in bed.

Evan, that old bastard, is really lucky with women.

"Evan?" Evan's wife was very puzzled when she couldn't find Evan in the yard.

Suddenly, she saw a slipper left by the fence.

"Evan!"

She rushed to the railing in a panic and saw Evan's body floating on the sea!

"Evan! Evan! OMG!"

She immediately dialed 911: "Evan, my husband Evan is dead! He fell into the sea! Damn it!"

Her voice was panicked, even trembling with sobs, but the flame of desire above her head showed no sadness; instead, it ignited a torch of excitement.

Evan floated in the water, already calculating her inheritance!

Ha. Richard watched Evan's wife's performance and called Brian: "Dali is seriously injured and captured, all his men are dead, O'Connor is okay, Isabella is seriously injured. Brian, don't let me down again, this is the last chance. Take back all the benefits!"

Brian was terrified: "Don't worry, Master!"

Richard hung up the phone immediately.

Catherine called: "Master, I saw the news about Hart Island. Are you alright?"

"It's nothing. Is Debbie asleep?"

"No, I'm still arguing with someone online."

Richard smiled.

Evan's wife's screams woke up the neighbors next door.

Richard chuckled as he watched Evan's wife put on their act of marital bliss, then tearfully recounted to his neighbor's wife the tragic accident that had struck Evan overboard: "Evan heard gunshots and came out to check. By the time I came out, he'd fallen into the sea! OMG! I can't imagine how I'm going to live without him!"

The male neighbor untied the lifeboat and rowed with all his might toward Evan's body.

"Let Debbie get some rest." Richard put down his phone and went into the yard to play the good neighbor: "What happened? OMG! Evan!"

Menterson was awakened from his sleep by a phone call.

Upon closer inspection, it was his chief aide.

"Mayor, please watch the news immediately! A gunfight has broken out on Hart Island!"

"WTF!" Menterson quickly got up.

Mentorson's wife, Vanessa, asked with displeasure, "What's wrong?"

"You go to sleep first." Mentorson kissed his wife, put on his glasses, went to the study, and turned on the video TV.

On television, the rotors of three news helicopters roared deafeningly, and the live camera shot from above, displaying the entire island like a dissected specimen on the screens of millions of viewers.

Hart Island was incredibly lively.

This small island has never seen so many living people at the same time in nearly a century.

The pier was completely blocked by police speedboats, whose searchlights illuminated the beach as bright as day.

Four black Coast Guard vessels were patrolling the perimeter.

O'Connor stood on the dock, her uniform covered in dirt, sand, and blood, being interviewed by reporters.

Reporters were kept outside the cordon, but microphones had already been passed over the cordon tape.

The camera cuts to the reporter below.

A female reporter's sharp voice cut through the noise of the helicopter: "Inspector! How did you manage to defeat 22 criminals with only six men?"

"23!" O'Connor corrected seriously. "22 were killed on the spot, and 1 was captured alive."

Then he shut his mouth.

What O'Connor really wanted to say was, "I don't know, I didn't do it. I was already like this when I crawled out of that damn pit."

He was silent.

All the reporters were watching him.

The atmosphere was a little awkward.

Isabella walked up behind him, her left arm wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage.

She stepped in front of the camera, stood ramrod straight, and said confidently, "I am Isabella Rose, the IAB's Chief of General Affairs. A few days ago, we received intelligence that a large-scale arms deal was being conducted on Hart Island. Superintendent O'Connor and I led four officers to the island to conduct an ambush. We eliminated 22 militants, captured the ringleader, and seized a batch of weapons, including..."

3

Isabella rambled on without explaining how she killed him, successfully confusing the reporter and making him forget the previous question.

Suddenly, another reporter asked, "We're very curious, how did you six manage to do that?"

Damn it! Can you guys forget about this?! Isabella's lips twitched slightly: "Because we didn't leave ourselves a way out."

The reporter was dissatisfied: "We want to know the details."

FXXK! Isabella swayed, her knees buckled forward, and she fell onto the beach, her body lunging forward.

O'Connor caught her quickly: "She's unconscious! Get her to the hospital!"

Then, he quickly left the scene with Isabella.

Following the live broadcast, a quick news item reported that Water Police Officer Samuel surrendered on the spot and has been taken to the NYPD.

Samuel turned himself in?

"OH! FXXK!" Menterson was furious.

He had just publicly announced to the media that Samuel was the Commissioner General of Police when the guy was arrested after the case broke.

WTF!

Is Henry deliberately trying to embarrass me?!

Vanessa entered the room, wrapped in a thick blanket, patted Mentenson's shoulder, and said softly, "Is something bad?"

Menterson gritted his teeth: "Terrible."

"Henry Carter has to get out of here! He's utterly incompetent and has caused me endless trouble!"

Vanessa didn't say anything, she just took out an ironed suit from the closet.

Menterson quickly put it on.

The two shared a final kiss.

"Great hero, go save New York!" Vanessa laughed.

Mentorson kissed his wife again: "You should rest. I probably won't be back until tomorrow."

Take care of yourself.

Vanessa stood at the window, watching Menterson drive away, a faint smile playing on her lips.

She looked back at the television screen, which was repeatedly playing Isabella's interview.

Vanessa looked intently at the woman.

She is indeed a stunning beauty; no wonder so many men are attracted to her.

She turned off the TV and went back to her bedroom.

There are some things you may not know.

As long as Mattson remains mayor and she remains mayor's wife, many things are unimportant.

But what if Menterson fails...?

Vanessa put on her eye mask and drifted into a wonderful dream.

The man in the suit drove his car into his yard. He didn't have time to put it in the garage before he jumped out of the car.

Dali actually lost!

This was completely beyond his expectations.

What a piece of trash!

"Alice!" The man in the suit pushed open the door, his voice low but urgent. "Alice! Get up!"

The bedroom lamp was on.

Alice came out in her nightgown, her hair disheveled, still looking sleepy: "What's wrong? You look terrible."

She saw her husband's lips trembling and his face deathly pale, something she had never seen before.

"Don't ask any more questions!" the man in the suit said hurriedly. "Go wake Lola up, get dressed, and take only your ID and cash. Let's go right now!"

"What trouble have you gotten yourself into?" Alice's voice began to tremble.

She saw the gun on his waist; her husband never brought a gun home.

"Shut up! Put your clothes on!" The man in the suit had never spoken to her in such a tone before.

Alice's face turned pale, and she turned and rushed into her daughter's room.

Seven-year-old Lola was still half asleep when her mother dragged her out of bed: "Mommy, is it daytime yet?"

"No, honey, we need to go out for a bit."

"Where to?"

"Stop asking, hurry up and get dressed."

Alice's hands were trembling; she struggled several times to get her daughter's sweater on.

Lola was bewildered.

She saw that her mother's eyes were red and her father was quickly packing things up, looking like a wild beast trapped in a cage.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

The man in the suit squatted down, hugged Lola briefly, and then quickly let go: "It's okay, Daddy will take you out to play."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

dong dong dong.

Three knocks on the door.

The intervals were even, the sound neither too loud nor too soft, yet it felt like it was striking the heart of the man in the suit.

The man in the suit froze on the spot, staring at the door in horror.

The door was pushed open.

A man in a black jacket walked in, his face beaming with smiles. He greeted the man warmly and cheerfully, "Hi! Suit-wearing man, I'm here to replace you. My name is Jack! You can also call me Black Jacket. Alger wants to talk to you."

The man in the suit was trembling all over, like a sieve.

The door was pushed open, and Alger-Vaughn stood in the yard, wearing a dark gray overcoat, holding nothing in his hands, with his hands in his pockets, like an old neighbor coming to visit.

Behind Alger stood four burly men in suits, their faces expressionless.

There's no escape now. The man in the suit was as pale as a sheet of paper.

Alger waved him over: "Let's go outside and talk. There are some things we shouldn't let women know, so they don't worry. Don't you agree?"

The man in the suit walked out the door in despair.

Alice called out from behind, "John!"

The man in the suit didn't dare turn around.

The door was closed.

He glanced back and saw his wife and daughter standing by the window looking out.

In the courtyard, the hydrangeas glowed with a dark bluish-purple hue in the night.

Alger stood next to a holly tree, which the man in the suit had planted last year and which had now grown to waist height.

Alger reached out and brushed aside a leaf: "Let's choose a spot."

The man in the suit's knees buckled slightly: "Mr. Vaughn—"

"Everyone needs a place to rest in peace." Alger's tone was flat, as if discussing when the lawn should be mowed. "I think this place is fine. It's growing quite well next to this holly. If you sleep here, it will grow even better next year."

He bent down and kicked the soil at his feet: "The soil is soft, easy to dig."

Snapped!

Jack threw a shovel on the ground and winked at the man in the suit with a grin.

The man in the suit knelt down with a thud.

His lips were moving, but he couldn't speak.

"Dig it," Alger said.

"Please don't do this, Mr. Vaughn, give me another chance." The man in the suit was in tears.

Alger said calmly, "I've already given you one chance. I gave you one when Leon ran away. Dig it yourself, don't be afraid, I never kill family."

The man in the suit trembled for a moment, and could only dig a hole in despair.

The shovel was driven into the soil again and again, digging out the moist earth, as if digging out his life.

The bluish-purple hydrangeas swayed in the night breeze.

The man in the suit's sobs grew louder as he dug in the dirt, crying, "Mr. Vaughn, I've cleaned up the mess. They'll never catch me."

Alger's voice came from behind, neither loud nor soft: "Samuel is alive, Dali is alive, the captain and crew of the arms delivery ship are alive, and you call this cleaning up the mess? You've done nothing right, you've disappointed me greatly."

The man in the suit's sobs stopped in his throat, leaving only trembling.

Alger calmly replied, "Dig a bigger hole so you can lie down more comfortably."

The man in the suit had no idea how long he had been digging; his hands were so tired that he could no longer feel them.

"Alright." Jack walked behind him, tied his hands and feet behind his back, and gagged him with a cloth.

With a gentle push from Jack, the man in the suit fell into the pit, his cheek pressed against the damp soil, smelling the scent of grass and dew.

The man in the suit did not struggle.

Let's end all of this then.

Immediately afterwards, he heard Alice and Lola scream.

The man in the suit struggled to stand up. He felt all the blood rush to his head, his eyes turned bloodshot, and his whole body struggled wildly as if wound up. A beast-like roar came from his chest, but he could no longer move.

You promised me!

Alger!

You said you wouldn't kill your family members!

Soon, Alice was tied up and thrown into the pit.

"Waaaah!" The man in the suit struggled desperately.

Seven-year-old Lola was lifted out by Jack, who tucked her under his arm and threw her into the pit like a rag doll.

Her cries pierced the night sky.

But there was no pity.

The soil fell, quickly burying the voices of the family of three.

Jack's shovel swung rhythmically like a pendulum, striking one after another with great force.

Jack always felt a sense of enjoyment and satisfaction when he dug, and he would even hum a cheerful tune.

Finally, the soil was tamped down and leveled, and the holly bushes were replanted to make the land look no different from the surrounding area.

"I hope you don't mess this up, Jack." Alger got back into the car.

Jack patted the mud off his hands and smiled broadly: "Don't worry, Godfather."

late at night.

Antonio lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling, anxious about what to do tomorrow.

The brothers lay sprawled out beside him, fast asleep.

Suddenly, a piercing old-fashioned cell phone rang outside the door!

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-dong!

"Who!" Antonio jumped up immediately.

Everyone woke up with a start, grabbed their guns, and pointed them at the door, their eyes filled with ferocity.

The bell was still ringing.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-dong!

The sound came from outside the door, muffled through the metal door.

Nobody uses that ringtone anymore; it's too old, like something from the 90s.

Antonio's palms were sweating.

He tilted his head slightly towards the door.

The henchman closest to the door suddenly kicked it open.

Boom!

The iron gate slammed against the wall with a loud bang, and the night and moonlight rushed in.

Everyone's guns were pointed at the door, but there was nothing outside.

Under the empty moonlight, only a cell phone lay on the doorstep.

The screen was lit up; it was an old Nokia, the numbers on the keys worn and faded.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-dong!

"Where did you get the phone?" Antonio gestured.

Everyone rushed out, looking around warily.

The warehouse was deserted; there was no one else in the slaughterhouse at night.

"Nobody's here."

Antonio frowned, walked over, and bent down to pick up the phone.

The screen displayed an unfamiliar number, with no name or location.

He pressed the answer button and held the receiver to his ear: "Who are you?"

A young voice came from the other end of the line, speaking calmly and slowly: "Antonio, I'm here to help you."

The other person knew his name! Antonio's pupils contracted slightly: "Who exactly are you?"

"You don't need to know who I am. I know you're looking for Dali, and I know you want to be the new Dali. He's finished, the Shadows' stronghold is empty. Take your men now, and the Shadows are yours."

Antonio's knuckles turned white as he gripped his phone tightly.

The other party knew his name, his location, and even his purpose in looking for Dali!

Apart from his subordinates, no one knows what he wants to do!

"Who are you?! Why are you helping me? What do you want?!"

"Take this phone; I'll contact you again in the future."

The phone hangs up.

beep.

Immediately afterwards, a message arrived with the address of the Ghost Shadow Gang's hideout.

Antonio stared at his phone screen for a long time until it went dark.

He looked around, scanning everyone's faces.

He saw no trace of betrayal on anyone's face.

He trusted them; this group of people had escaped from that hellish, dilapidated city with him and had been struggling here for over a decade.

Many people died, many people took bullets for him, and Antonio couldn't bring himself to doubt any of them.

However, his location was exposed; someone left his phone at the door, and he didn't even know who the caller was.

"Boss—are we going or not?" the underling's voice trembled.

Antonio was silent for a few seconds, then stood up, put the Nokia in his pocket, and said, "Go."

"If they wanted to kill us, they wouldn't have made the call. We're still alive, it just means they haven't decided to act yet. We're already at our wits' end, but things can't get any worse..."

"Let's go! Grab all the weapons and head to the Ghost Shadow Gang's hideout!"

Forty minutes later, three wrecked bread trucks stopped in front of the Ghost Shadow Gang's hideout. From the outside, it looked no different from the surrounding houses.

When Antonio led his men inside, it was empty.

Dali did indeed take everyone away; the Ghost Gang's hideout was like an empty beehive, leaving only the gang's insignia and a few tattered posters hanging on the walls.

But they didn't take all the weapons with them.

There were three half-full ammunition boxes piled up in the corner, filled with bullets and grenades.

There were also six assault rifles and three pistols in the cabinet, their barrels polished to a shine.

To Antonio's surprise, he found several ledgers and an old laptop in a metal cabinet in the corner of the warehouse.

Opening the ledger revealed the names of Dali's subordinates, a dozen or so minor leaders scattered throughout Queens and Brooklyn.

Telephone number, profit sharing ratio.

Antonio's heart raced.

This is more valuable than money.

With these ledgers, he gained access to all of the Ghost Shadow Gang's connections and channels.

He didn't know them, but they knew the ledger, they knew "Dali".

Antonio went up to the second floor and pushed open the only locked door at the end of the corridor.

That was Dali's office.

Facing you is a wide oak table, on which are scattered empty cigarette boxes, a lighter, and a few crumpled banknotes.

There was a stack of pure white ghost face masks in the table drawer.

The Ghost Gang's masks are divided into three levels.

The pure black ghost face represents the lowest-ranking members, the black and white ones represent the squad leaders and group leaders, and the pure white ghost face represents Dali.

The mask on the far left is black, while the one on the far right is almost pure white with only two simple black eye sockets, resembling an expressionless skull.

Antonio reached out and removed the pure white mask on the far right.

He slowly raised the mask to his face and put it on.

From this moment on, I am Dali!

Antonio ordered all his men to wear masks, all of them black and white.

Just then, the door was suddenly kicked open.

"Boss! I heard the police arrested you—thankfully it was just a rumor—" A thin man in a gray hoodie rushed in, carrying a briefcase, his face full of terror.

He stopped halfway through his run, his expression frozen in mid-run.

He stared at Antonio.

The body shape is wrong, the skin color is wrong, and the tattoo on the back of the hand is wrong!

Everyone else looked off.

Cold sweat trickled down the man's forehead: "You, you, who are you?"

Antonio looked at him through the mask, and his voice came from behind it, deep and steady: "I am Dali."

"You're not!" the man screamed, turning to run away.

Antonio raised his hand and fired a shot, the bullet piercing through the door panel behind the man.

The man stood frozen in place, his briefcase falling to the ground.

Antonio walked over and pressed the gun against the back of his head: "Who do you think I am?"

The man's lips trembled: "You are—you are Dali—you are Mr. Dali—"

Antonio holstered his gun with satisfaction and patted the man on the shoulder: "Very good. So, who are you?"

"My name is William, and I'm the accountant for the Ghost Gang..."

The man trembled.

Antonio smiled with satisfaction. "Very good, accountant. Pick up the bag from the floor, and then tell me everything you know. The list of your downlines, the channels, the payment methods, and, most importantly, the meaning of every number in that ledger!"

William was stunned for a moment, then he suddenly realized something: the Ghost Gang had changed owners.

Dali didn't die, but "Dali" has been replaced.

It doesn't matter who's behind the mask; what matters is that the person wearing the mask is still alive, can still fire a gun, and is still standing here.

That's Dali!

And perhaps the lower-ranking members of the Ghost Shadow Gang will all follow this mask?

William swallowed hard, bent down to pick up the briefcase, and said with a forced smile, "Boss Dali, I know a lot..."

'

Henry Carter sat behind his desk, his face grim.

The screen was playing a loop of live news from Hart Island.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open.

Henry looked up in surprise and shouted angrily, "Who is it! Why didn't you knock!"

Isabella appeared in the doorway, her face ashen, blood still seeping from the new bandage wrapped around her left arm, but her eyes burned with a fierce fire.

"You, you, you weren't unconscious!" Henry exclaimed in surprise.

"It's an act," Isabella said without restraint.

FXXK! Henry quickly got up to close the door, but when he turned around, he found that Isabella was already sitting in his seat.

"I've been running around all day and fighting all night, I'm a little tired." Isabella comfortably turned around, crossing her long legs. "Sit down for a bit, you don't mind, do you?"

Henry's face darkened: "What exactly do you want?!"

"I want to sit in this seat," Isabella giggled.

Henry was furious: "Enough! Stop it!"

Isabella lowered her head, her gaze falling on his face: "You've been to my house, haven't you?"

Henry froze.

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