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.

watched her for a long while, then bent and pressed a gentle kiss to her

"Goodnight, my Isadora."

a moment, he slipped carefully out

rose and

the softness in his gaze faded, replaced

imposing, with its main house flanked by four

in black from head to

through a long corridor, crossed the back garden, and paused at the door of a room in the

the door and stepped

sat slumped in a carved wooden chair,

chosen that afternoon, but her face was

to see Victor. Resting on her knees was a black-framed

above her, one hand in his pocket, his eyes cold and unreadable. "Why did

voice was ragged, hoarse. "That was Pattie's

icy. "Would Pattie have

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

her own grandson-the boy she'd raised with her own hands -would defy her,

thought darkened her expression

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

eyes grew colder. After a long pause, his voice

This is the last time I'll say

sharp sound

photograph of Dorian

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