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."

a moment, he slipped carefully out from

rose and left

hallway, the softness in his gaze faded,

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

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

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

the door and stepped

slumped in a carved wooden chair, looking drawn

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

seem surprised to see Victor. Resting on her

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

ragged, hoarse. "That was

his tone icy. "Would Pattie have

Fitzgerald family, commanding respect-even Dorian Fitzgerald had deferred

her own hands -would defy

darkened her expression

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

pause, his voice cut through

This is

sound broke

photograph of Dorian at

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