Chapter 99
“Mom, can we not do this right now?” Isla’s voice came through soft but strained as she pressed the phone closer to her ear. “I need to rest tomorrow. Besides, I’m not even sure Gabriel will be available. He’s been too busy these days.
On the other end of the line, her mother’s tone was brisk, commanding as always.
“Honey, this lunch is very important to the family. Make sure you don’t miss it. And as for Gabriel, I’ll call him myself. Bye for now p>
The line went dead before Isla could protest further.
She lowered the phone slowly and sighed, frustration pressing hard against her chest. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet–not her mother, not the rest of the family, not even the world outside her walls.
Even though the truth had come to light and the confusion had been cleared, she still couldn’t get over the painful fact that Gabriel hadn’t believed her.
Not after everything she had endured with him. Not after believing him when she wasn’t supposed to. She trusted him even after all he did. She fought his battles and defended him. Only for him to not have a single trust
in her.
It hurts her more than she could ever imagine.
The sting of betrayal lingered deep in her heart.
Isla set the phone down on the marble kitchen island and drew in a slow, steadying breath. She picked up the knife again and continued chopping vegetables. The sound of the blade against the board was sharp. More like a melody.
Cooking was the one habit that grounded her–her small ritual of peace.
Even in the loneliest days of her marriage, when Gabriel had been distant and cold, when she suspected he spent his nights elsewhere… she still cooked for him. She never missed a day. It was her silent act of love, her way of holding on when everything else seemed to fall apart.
Tonight was no different. Even with anger roaring quietly inside her, she still found herself preparing his meal.
But that didn’t erase the hurt.
She didn’t know when she would ever forgive him–or if she even could.
Alfred’s confession earlier still weighed heavily on her mind. That old man was a vault of secrets, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what else was buried inside.
The revelation that Anna wasn’t Gabriel’s real mother, and that his biological mother was still alive somewhere, unsettled her deeply. What kind of woman could stay away from her child for so long while another woman took her place?
Still, Alfred had been right about one thing. For the sake of the little life growing inside her, she needed to stay calm and focus on her health. But a quiet part of her heart whispered that she should at least try to find the
1/4
truth, to locate Gabriel’s real mother.
And then there was Alfred himself a man who seemed to know everything. He knew about her company in Teriporto, something she had hidden from everyone. That alone was terrifying.
If he could uncover that so easily, what else did he know? Probably more than anyone dared to imagine.
She wouldn’t even be surprised if the old man knew the secrets of the royal family too.
Isla exhaled softly and looked around the kitchen. The soup simmered gently on the stove, and the meat was perfectly cooked. Everything was ready now. She wiped her hands and began to clean the pots.
That was when she heard the faint hiss of the front door opening.
She didn’t need to look. She knew it was Gabriel.
Her hands continued moving over the sink, calm and steady. She refused to turn around.
The familiar scent of her cooking filled the air–warm, rich, comforting. Gabriel froze for a moment in the doorway of the sitting room. He hadn’t expected to find her in the kitchen. Not after everything that happened.
He followed the aroma until he saw her, standing by the counter in a loose white shirt that hung gently around her figure, stopping exactly around her mid–thigh. Her long blonde hair was tied into a simple ponytail, revealing the curve of her neck.
She looked peaceful, but her silence was sharper than anger.
He felt a surge of guilt and pride all at once–pride that she was his wife, and guilt that he had broken something beautiful between them.
She didn’t look up at him. And that hurt the most.
Gabriel took off his suit jacket, loosened his cufflinks, and rolled up his sleeves. His footsteps were quiet but firm as he entered the kitchen.
Without saying a word, he reached for her hands. Isla froze, startled by his sudden nearness. His touch was gentle–tentative–as if afraid she might pull away.
He didn’t speak. Neither did she. Only the hissing of the air freshener filled the silence.
He turned on the faucet, washing her hands with slow, careful motions, then reached for a napkin to dry them.
“You should rest,” he said quietly, his voice deep and calm. “I’ll do the washing p>
Her eyes flicked toward him, cold and unyielding. “I don’t need your pity,” she snapped, pulling her hands free.
She turned to walk away, but his voice stopped her mid–step.
“I’m sorry for hurting you p>
The words came low, almost a whisper, but they carried the weight of his sleepless night, every regret that had haunted him since the moment he doubted her.
2/4
Isla froze where she stood. For a brief second, she closed her eyes. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ.net
She didn’t turn around. But she heard the sincerity in his voice. And that… was enough to make her chest ache all over again.
Florence
Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She’s also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.