The next morning.


    Isadora arrived at the design firm and went straight to her office.


    Wendy blinked, hurried after her, and poked her head around the doorway.


    "Isadora, you look exhausted! That thunderstormst night really rattled you, didn''t it?"


    Slumped in her chair, Isadora barely managed a response. "Just had a nightmare, that''s all."


    Truth was, she''d hardly slept at all.


    She''d tried every trick to drift off, but sleep had abandoned herpletely.


    Wendy clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Oof, sounds like that nightmare really did a number on you. You''ve got the biggest dark circles—I swear, you look like a roon."


    Isadora pulled apact out of her tote and nced at her reflection.


    She nearly jumped her face was so pale she looked like a ghost in a horror movie.


    With a sigh, she dabbed on some foundation, covering up the evidence of her sleepless night.


    She couldn''t afford to look like death warmed over; she had several important client meetings lined up today.


    If she showed up looking like this, the meetings would probably go nowhere. Seafarer Designs'' biggest challenge was theirck of clients and projects.


    Sure, they were in the running for the Horizon Architectspetition, but nearly ten firms werepeting for that job. Their chances were slim.


    So for now, Rowena was focused on drafting designs, while Isadora took every potential client meeting she could, hoping to drum up more business for the firm. Over the next few days, Isadora threw herself into workpletely.


    She barely had a moment to think about anything else.


    When she got back to Summit Crest Estates at night, Victor was never there.


    Still, whenever he wasn''ting home, he''d send her a message.


    Every time she saw his texts, Isadora could only smirk at the irony.


    She never bothered to ask where he was or what he was doing.


    She''d just delete the message, and, on a whim, changed his name in her phone to "Jerk."


    Back at the office, Wendy had been putting in overtime for days-her face looked as drawn as old parchment.


    She had no idea what had gotten into Isadorately; it was like her boss was hell- bent on cramming a year''s worth of work into a single week, and Wendy, as her assistant, was stuck going along for the ride.


    She was only twenty, but the exhaustion was aging her decades—she felt like she was wilting before her own eyes.


    One evening, Wendy couldn''t help but speak up.


    "Isadora, we''ve been meeting with clients non-stop. You should really get some rest. Working thiste every night is just going to kill our productivity tomorrow, you know?"


    It was only then that Isadora realized it was nearly eight o''clock again.


    She looked at Wendy''s hopeful face and relented. "All right, go home. Let''s call it a night."


    Back at Summit Crest Estates, Isadora realized her period had started.


    She took a hot shower and crawled into bed early, but sleep was fitful.


    Half-awake, she tossed and turned, her stomach aching.


    Suddenly, a pair of strong hands pressed gently against her abdomen, radiating warmth through her skin.


    Isadora thought she must be dreaming; the pain faded, and she let out a contented sigh, unconsciously nuzzling closer to that familiar presence.


    Victor had been at the private hospital for the past few days.


    Finally, today, Dorian was out of the woods, though his condition was still far from good.


    When Victor returned home, the ce was dark and silent.


    He assumed Isadora hadn''te home yet, and was about to frown, but then he


    spotted her heels by the door and couldn''t help but smile.


    He pushed open the bedroom door. Moonlight spilled through the windows, illuminating a lump under the covers.


    Victor arched an eyebrow she was already asleep, and it wasn''t even eleven yet.


    He loosened his tie and took a quick shower.


    When he approached the bed, he realized something was off with Isadora.