Isadora looked up, her dark eyes drawn irresistibly to Victor.
Under the soft lights, his profile was sharp, almost severe, hisshes casting shadows as he nced down, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, she thought he might relent.
But Victor''s voice, calm and unreadable, cut through the tension.
"If you want to make a scene, I won''t stop you. But if Isadora is moving in, that''s my decision. End of discussion."
Without waiting for a reply, Victor took Isadora''s hand and led her forward.
Deanna''s face drained of all color; she seemed to age a decade in an instant, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye.
Isadora followed Victor up the sweeping marble staircase, her gaze fixed on the tall man in the ck jacket leading her onward.
She nced back onest time at the chaos in the living room.
Pattiey unconscious on the floor, blood from her forehead seeping into the rug. Deanna slumped on the sofa, barely conscious, her eyes dull and lifeless.
The household staff and family doctor stood frozen in ce, too shocked to move. Earlier, at the entrance to the Fitzgerald estate, Isadora had only meant to half- jokinglyin to Victor, to vent her frustrations. She knew his temper-knew he might be upset by what she said-but she never expected him to go this far. Victor led her up to the third floor.
They walked down a long corridor, the walls lined with elegant, old-world paintings that spoke of the house''s deep history.
At the very end, Victor stopped and opened a door.
The room was spacious, decorated in understated shades of deep blue.
Immediately inside, shelves of meticulously arranged model cars and shining trophies caught her eye.
Farther in, the sitting area, study, and bathroom flowed seamlessly together in a graceful circle.
Victor nced back and saw Isadora standing with her head down, lost in thought.
Thinking she was frightened, he slipped an arm around her slender waist and pulled her gently against his chest.
"What''s wrong?"
Isadora looked up at him, her clear eyes searching his face.
"Nothing. It''s just—this is my first time in Fitzgerald Mansion. It doesn''t feel real."
Victor brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, eyes dark and knowing.
He could tell she was lying, but he let it pass.
"Rest here for a while," he said softly. "I''ll have someone bring you dinnerter."
"Where are you going?" Isadora asked, catching his hand instinctively.
He squeezed her fingers, his deep eyes glinting with a teasing smile.
"Can''t bear to let me go?"
She flushed and quickly let go. "I didn''t say that."
Victor raised an eyebrow, his voice low and indulgent.
"Be good. just need to take care of some work. This used to be my
room when I was a kid-pot" not
much has changed. Feel free to look around."
He left, his footsteps heavy and measured.
As the door closed behind him, Victor leaned back against it, his brow furrowing in pain.
He pressed a hand to his left shoulder, where a sharp, tearing agony radiated.
The truth was, back at the gates of Fitzgerald Manor, the stitches in his shoulder had split open again.
Grinding his teeth, he straightened, forcing himself to cross into the next room.
He called for a servant and told them to bring the family doctor upstairs to redress his wound.
He didn''t want Isadora to know.
Downstairs in the living room, Deanna red at the immobilized doctor.
A burning fury bubbled in her chest like
and sheshed out at
arta etenva she could bare, around her. Content be aou waiting for? Are you
"What are
e you waiting for? Are you all useless? Does the Fitzgerald
family pay you to stand aroup
gawk?"
too
and
"If anything happens to Pattie, you''ll answer for it with your lives."
Snapped out of their stupor, the doctors hurried to Pattie''s side, scrambling to help
her.