Chapter 397

The night was deep and still.

Moonlight spilled through the balcony like a gauzy veil, casting a gentle, silvery haze over the bedroom. Everything felt warm and peaceful, wrapped in the hush of midnight.

Isadora lay in bed, arms draped around the man beside her, instinctively seeking the comfort of his familiar, pine-scented warmth.

It had been a long, exhausting day.

She was so tired.

She'd thought she wouldn't be able to sleep in the Fitzgerald family's grand estate.

But now, drowsiness weighed heavily on her.

"Victor..." she murmured, half-asleep.

Victor's dark eyes lingered on her, deep and intent. He stroked her soft curls with

a gentle hand, his voice low and tender. "What is it?"

Maybe she was already dreaming. With her eyes closed, Isadora whispered, "Good... night."

Moments later, the room fell silent, save for the steady, peaceful rhythm of her breathing.

She slept quietly, curled up like a kitten.

a long while, then bent and pressed a gentle kiss to

"Goodnight, my Isadora."

he slipped carefully out

and

in his

Mansion was like a fortress-grand and imposing, with its main house

headed toward the rear wing, his posture composed and commanding, dressed in black from head to toe.

the back garden, and paused at the door of a

opened the door and

a carved wooden chair,

elegant, slate-grey suit she'd chosen that afternoon, but her face was

Resting on her

his pocket, his eyes cold and unreadable. "Why did you do those things

was ragged, hoarse. "That was Pattie's

a mirthless laugh, his tone icy. "Would Pattie

been the matriarch of the Fitzgerald family, commanding respect-even Dorian Fitzgerald had deferred to her. No one had ever challenged her

own grandson-the boy she'd raised with her own hands -would defy her, again and again, all for the sake

her

I gave the order?" she snapped. "Victor, do you want your

a long pause, his voice cut through the room

on Isadora again. This is the

sharp sound broke the

the photograph

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