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

"Goodnight, my Isadora."

carefully out from under

rose and left

softness in his gaze faded, replaced by

a fortress-grand and imposing, with its main house flanked by four smaller wings, all in

posture composed and commanding, dressed in black

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

opened the door and stepped

a carved

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

seem surprised to see Victor. Resting on her knees was a

pocket, his eyes

ragged, hoarse. "That

a mirthless laugh, his tone icy.

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

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

darkened her expression even

the order?" she

long pause, his voice cut through the room

on Isadora again. This is the last

The sharp sound broke

hurled the photograph of

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