Adrian stood near the window for a long while, silently watching Isabella as she sat motionless on the edge of the sofa. He couldn't bear it anymore. Slowly, he walked toward her.
When he reached her side, Isabella didn't move. Without saying a word, Adrian knelt slightly and pulled her into his arms. For a brief second, Isabella stiffened in surprise, but then something inside her broke. The pain she had been holding back since morning finally poured out, and she clung to him as tears streamed down her face. Adrian said nothing. He just held her — firm, protective, and patient. He let her cry, let her release the ache that had been suffocating her.
Minutes turned into half an hour.
Her sobs grew softer until only quiet hiccups remained. Adrian's coat was soaked, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that she had finally let her emotions out.
When Isabella finally lifted her head, her eyes were swollen, her lashes wet. She looked down at his suit, guilt flickering across her face. "I… I'm sorry," she whispered. "Your coat—"
Adrian gently brushed her hair back and cupped her face in his hands. "Don't," he said softly, wiping away the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. "It's just fabric. It doesn't matter."
His tone was so calm, so tender, that it made her heart ache all over again.
"I didn't mean to interfere in your life," Adrian said after a pause, his voice low and sincere. "But when I saw the news… when I heard what they were saying about you, I lost control. I ordered my men to bring you here. If that upset you, I'm sorry."
Isabella looked down, her lips trembling slightly.
Adrian continued, "When you left the registrar's office, I regretted forcing this marriage. I thought I had wronged you. But now I see — maybe everything happened for a reason." He leaned a little closer, his voice firm but full of warmth. "From now on, no one will touch you. No one will hurt you. I promise you that."
Isabella's breath caught. She didn't speak, but her fingers clenched around his sleeve, as if silently accepting the promise.
Then Adrian added softly, "And your father… he's safe."
At that, Isabella's head snapped up. For the first time, she met his eyes directly, panic and hope flashing within them.
Adrian understood her unspoken question. He smiled faintly — a rare, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, dear wife," he said, the last two words spoken with quiet affection. "My men are already at the hospital. Your father is in a coma, but he's under my protection now. Very soon, I'll have him shifted to a private facility with the best doctors. He'll recover — I'll make sure of it."
Isabella's eyes shimmered again, but this time not from sadness. "Really?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
Adrian nodded. "I'll show you." He reached into his pocket, took out his phone, and made a quick video call. Within seconds, one of his men appeared on screen, showing a quiet hospital room. Mr. Lawrence Grace lay peacefully on the bed, hooked to machines, but breathing steadily.
Isabella covered her mouth with her hand, tears spilling once more — not of despair this time, but relief.
"See?" Adrian said softly. "He's safe. I'll handle everything from here. You just need to rest and recover."
She nodded slowly, her heart calming for the first time in what felt like forever.
Adrian stood up after the video call ended, leaving Isabella silently gazing at her father's weak but peaceful face on the screen. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Stay here and rest a bit. I'll bring something for you to eat," he said softly.
Isabella looked up, confused. "You don't have to trouble the staff for me…"
A small smile curved on Adrian's lips. "Who said I'll trouble the staff?
Before she could respond, he had already turned toward the kitchen. The faint sounds of clattering dishes and the aroma of herbs soon filled the air. Isabella sat quietly, still lost in thoughts of her father — yet something in her heart began to ease. For the first time in months, she didn't feel completely alone.
After about twenty minutes, Adrian returned, carrying a tray with two plates. The warm scent of creamy mushroom soup and grilled vegetables made Isabella's stomach tighten — she hadn't realized how hungry she was until now.
He set the plates on the dining table and pulled a chair for her. "It's simple, but I hope you'll like it," he said, a trace of nervousness in his tone.
Isabella blinked in surprise. "You… cooked this?"
"Hmm," Adrian nodded, taking his seat opposite her. "I'm not always the CEO in the suit, you know. Sometimes, I still remember what it's like to cook for someone I care about."
For a moment, Isabella just stared at him, unsure how to respond. She picked up the spoon hesitantly and took a sip. The warmth of the soup spread through her — rich, flavorful, comforting. She lowered her gaze, hiding the moisture that threatened to return to her eyes.
Adrian watched her quietly, not saying a word. The silence between them wasn't awkward anymore; it was peaceful.
"This is… good," Isabella said finally, her voice soft, almost shy.
A small chuckle escaped Adrian. "I'll take that as a compliment."
They ate together quietly, exchanging few words. But every small gesture — the way he refilled her glass of water, how she pushed the bowl toward him to share — spoke of something deeper growing between them.
After the meal, Adrian leaned back, looking at her with gentle eyes.
"Isabella, you don't have to thank me," he said before she could speak. "Just… let yourself breathe again. You've carried too much pain alone."
Isabella nodded slightly, her heart torn between guilt and gratitude. "I don't know how to face everything now. It feels like everything I had is gone."
Adrian reached across the table, covering her trembling hand with his warm palm.
"Then start from here," he said quietly. "With me."
For the first time, Isabella didn't pull her hand away.