Chapter 270

The moment Isabella stepped into the hospital room, Sebastian received a call from Alexander.

"Mr. Dubois."

"Sebastian! As Isabella's assistant, how could you not inform us of her whereabouts immediately?"

Alexander's interrogation was sharp. "Why are you and Isabella at Elmsworth Second Hospital? Is she there to see Nathaniel?"

A calm voice followed. "Alexander, relax."

Truth be told, Alexander was usually composed, but when it came to Isabella, his patience evaporated.

Sebastian blinked in confusion. "Mr. Dubois, how did you know?"

Isabella's visit to Nathaniel was supposed to be confidential!

"Satellite tracking."

Cassius sighed. "Alexander is practically using every tactic reserved for fugitives, yet he still can't keep track of one person?"

Sebastian fell silent.

"Calm down, Alexander. You know Isabella well enough—no amount of scolding will make her obedient."

Cassius sounded resigned. "We're all adults here. Let her do as she pleases."

"I'm dispatching a security team to surround the hospital immediately. Hands-on at the ward door. Sebastian, it's going to be a long night for you. If that bastard Nathaniel dares lay a finger on Isabella, you report to me instantly."

"Yes, Mr. Dubois!" Sebastian stiffened under the colonel's intimidating tone.

Alexander's voice was ice-cold. "If Nathaniel harms my sister, he won't leave that hospital alive."

Isabella agreed to stay.

Nathaniel, elated, took his medicine and applied his ointment without complaint.

The hospital dinner was bland and unappetizing.

But with Isabella beside him, Nathaniel devoured it as if it were a gourmet feast.

Watching him eat like a starved man, Isabella decided to order something for herself as a late-night snack.

She forced down the tasteless meal, refusing to waste food.

"You should eat something more nourishing," she remarked. "Like clam chowder or beef stew."

"Can you make it for me?" Nathaniel asked hopefully.

"I've cooked for you before. You never seemed to care."

Isabella scoffed, pushing her tray aside. She grabbed her pajamas and toiletries, heading to the bathroom. "Vanessa is a decent cook. Ask her."

The door clicked shut.

Nathaniel swallowed hard, the taste of regret bitter in his mouth.

Starting over was harder than he'd imagined.

Isabella emerged from the bathroom in a peach silk nightgown.

Her skin glowed, fresh and radiant without makeup. Stripped of her usual polished look, she appeared younger—more like eighteen than twenty-four.

Nathaniel's pulse quickened. His gaze lingered.

"What are you staring at? Never seen a bare face before?" She spritzed moisturizer, the hospital air dry against her skin.

"I've seen it. Often, actually."

He forced his voice steady. "It just... brings back memories."

"Your gaze was nostalgic? I didn't notice." She settled onto the couch, pulling a blanket over herself.

Nathaniel had no retort.

Her words were sharp, cutting without vulgarity.

When she targeted him, it was surgical.

"Cross my line, and you're dead."

She lay down, slipping on a silk eye mask. "Goodnight."

"Sleep in the bed."

"Nathaniel, we're divorced. Are you seriously dreaming of sharing a bed with your ex-wife? Asking for trouble?"

"No—that's not what I meant." He laughed bitterly. "I was offering you the bed."

"One more word, and I'm leaving. You've had your medicine. Nothing's keeping me here."

He clamped his mouth shut.

He'd fought to make her stay. He couldn't ruin this.

The lights dimmed. The room fell silent.

Nathaniel couldn't sleep.

He lay on his side, stealing glances at Isabella.

Even with her back turned, she was breathtaking under the moonlight—like a sculpted masterpiece.

"Still staring? Keep it up, and I walk." Her voice cut through the dark.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you." His heart lurched.

How careful he'd become—living in fear, in humility.

"No. It's just... your breathing changes when you sleep. I can tell."

Silence settled between them.

Isabella curled tighter, clutching her nightgown.

She hated herself.

How pathetic she'd been—memorizing every detail of this man.

Nathaniel's chest tightened with guilt. The air grew thin, suffocating.

For three years, he'd slept soundly.

But her? How many nights had she spent alone?

"Isabella... I really was an asshole." His voice was rough.

"Let it go. It's over. Just don't repeat the past."

"I mean it—"

She cut him off with a soft laugh. "If you'd ever loved me, it would've happened long ago. Why now? Even if you've suddenly 'developed feelings,' it's just a whim. I'm not naive enough to mistake fleeting passion for devotion."