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.

while, then bent

"Goodnight, my Isadora."

carefully

rose and

his gaze faded, replaced by a flash

and imposing, with its main house flanked by

posture composed and commanding, dressed in black from head to toe. His footsteps echoed

passed through a long corridor, crossed the back garden, and paused at the

the door and stepped

a carved

she'd chosen that

see Victor. Resting on her knees

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

voice was ragged, hoarse. "That

his tone icy. "Would Pattie have dared

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

never imagined her own grandson-the boy she'd raised with her own hands

darkened her expression even

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

grew colder. After a long pause, his voice

This is the last time I'll say

sharp sound broke

photograph of Dorian

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