"No need."


    "This isn''t helping, sir. Waiting out here won''t solve anything. If Miss Vaughan isn''ting out, maybe you should go to the hospital and get yourself looked at first."


    Victor lifted his gaze, and the coldness in his eyes cut through the air.


    Kemp mped his mouth shut immediately, not daring to press the issue any further.


    Suddenly, Kemp caught sight of a figure outside the car.


    "Miss... Miss Vaughan''sing out."


    At those words, Victor turned his head, his dark eyes locking on the woman stepping out of the house.


    Isadora wore a crisp white blouse tucked into a grey fitted pencil skirt, the fabric hugging her slender waist just right. Though it had been over three months, her stomach was still as t as ever-there was no sign at all that she was expecting.


    Her long, softly curled hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall, catching the gentle breeze. The effect was striking, making her seem both delicate and radiant. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Victor pushed open the car door and got out. Isadora looked at him, leaning there against the car.


    It was only then she noticed how bad he looked. His face was shockingly pale.


    Back in the basement, her feelings had been a tangled mess.


    She was angry at Victor.


    She''d kept hoping she''d see a text, some kind of message, even just a call from him. She hadn''t needed him to show up at the press conference—she just wanted to know he was there for her, somewhere.


    But when she took the stage, there was nothing. Not a single word.


    The disappointment had hit her harder than any of the reporters'' relentless questions. Victor''s absence had left her reeling, an ache so sharp it felt like her heart was tearing open, bleeding out in all the ces no one could see.


    The more she cared, the more fragile she became.


    Isadora never wanted to feel like this again.


    It hurt too much.


    They stood there for a few seconds-just a handful of heartbeats, but it felt like an eternity.


    The glow from the porch light stretched their shadows long across the driveway.


    Kemp and the driver got out too, quietly slipping away down the drive to give them privacy.


    "What brings you out here?" Victor''s voice was low, the look in his eyes unreadable. He tried to force a smile to ease the tension, but the effort tugged at his wound and made him wince.


    Isadora''s tone was cool. "Didn''t youe here for me?"


    Victor stepped closer, his tall frame casting a shadow across her. He wanted to


    reach out and hold her, but was afraid she might pull away.


    His voice was rough, edged with pain. "I didn''t skip the press conference on purpose."


    Before he could finish, Isadora


    dropped her gaze and punched him


    in the chest, her voice hoarse. "So


    эле


    just Saying ''I didn''t mean to'' makes everything okay?"


    Her fistnded right where he''d had stitches, and Victor went even paler.


    But he didn''t stop her.


    He just stood there and let her hit him.


    "If taking it out on me makes you feel better, then go ahead. However you want, I''ll take it."


    He gently took her hand and guided her fist to hit him again.


    Blow after blow, her small fist thudded against his chest. Victor''s brow furrowed, but he showed no sign of pain.


    Isadora''s eyes burned with tears, her voice tight with emotion.


    "I wanted to stand up there and tell everyone-the father of my child is you. Victor Fitzgerald, CEO of the Fitzgerald Group."


    "I wanted to say we''re getting married. I wanted all those people whoughed at me to be jealous for once. But where were you?"


    Victor''s eyes stung with raw regret, his voice rough with guilt. "Isadora, this is all my fault."


    "I should have been there. I let you face everything alone. I promised I''d protect you, and I failed."


    Isadora had meant to say all this to hurt him.


    But hearing the pain in Victor''s voice, her tears only fell faster, streaming down her cheeks.


    Victor reached out, brushing a trembling finger over the tears on her face. The heat of them seemed to burn right through him, making his heart ache.


    He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.


    "Don''t cry. If you need to hit me, go ahead. If you need to yell or scream or anything-just tell me. I''ll do whatever you need, as long, helps."


    и


    it