Chapter 118
“Mother?” Gabriel’s voice was tight, with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
The music and chatter seemed to fade into the background. Even Ben and Peter turned in surprise, exchanging uncertain looks.
Anna stood still, her eyes fixed on her son. Her expression was a mix of authority and disapproval. A familiar look Isla had come to recognize.
“Gabriel,” she said finally, her tone clipped. “I didn’t know I needed permission to visit a public place.”
Isla gasped quietly, but before she could even move, Gabriel’s arm wrapped around her waist. His touch was firm and protective. Grounding her where she sat.
His eyes stayed locked on his mother. “You don’t,” he said evenly, his jaw tight. “But this isn’t a coincidence, is it?”
Anna’s lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in it. “You could say that.”
Gabriel decided not to push too further, knowing that they were in public.
“I’m here to speak with you, son,” Anna said, her voice calm but sharp enough to scare Isla. Her cold, assessing eyes shifted toward Isla as she continued, “I’m sure the woman beside you wouldn’t mind if I steal you away for a few minutes. Will she?”
The way she said the woman made Isla’s stomach twist.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened immediately. His whole body stiffened, and a flicker of anger darkened his face.
“That woman has a name, Mother,” he said, his tone low but warning. “That woman is my wife, and you know that. So, I would appreciate it if you addressed her that way.”
His words dropped like a stone between them.
Anna’s expression faltered for a split second. She couldn’t believe how defensive her son had become, over Isla of all people. That sting of rejection hit her deeper than she expected.
Ben and Peter exchanged glances from across the table. They’d seen how Gabriel’s family had humiliated Isla in the past, and this–this moment–made both men quietly proud. The powerful, cold CEO they knew was finally standing up for his wife.
Anna drew a breath and forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her tone almost dripping with sarcasm. “Isla, may I steal your…” She hesitated, the next word bitter on her tongue. “…husband for a few minutes?”
Isla’s pulse quickened. Every instinct in her told her this woman was here to start something. She’d seen that look in Anna’s eyes before. The kind that meant trouble wrapped in politeness.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. For once, she decided she wasn’t going to be quiet. She’d spent too long being careful around this woman, too long trying to be accepted when she clearly never would be.
And now, Isla knew something Anna didn’t. She knew something that could change everything in an instant if revealed. The secret Alfred had told her to keep until the right time.
Her conscience ached with the weight of it. She wasn’t being fully truthful to her husband, and the guilt haunted her. But right now, she couldn’t let Anna manipulate Gabriel again.
He had changed. He was finally free. And Isla wasn’t about to let anyone, not even his mother, drag him back into the chaos he’d escaped.
She lifted her chin, her voice steady with the type of calmness that scares her too.
“Yes, actually, I do mind,” she said. “We’re here with friends, and you can’t just walk in and expect everything to stop for you. I’m sorry, Mrs. Wyndham, but whatever you want to discuss with my husband will have to wait.”
The air went still. Everyone was quiet.
Ben’s brows shot up. Even Peter looked caught off guard–though the flicker of irritation in his eyes wasn’t for Isla but for Anna. Who in their right mind comes looking for their son–a married man, a CEO–in a public club?
Anna blinked, visibly thrown off by Isla’s sharp yet composed tone. Her lips parted as if to reply, but no words
came.
She stood there frozen, the faint music from below pulsing through the heavy silence. Isla had not raised her voice. She hadn’t even sounded angry. But her words were quiet, precise, and unapologetic. It landed like a slap.
Anna’s throat tightened. She had underestimated her daughter–in–law. Again.
Gabriel, meanwhile, stayed silent. His hand was still on Isla’s waist, steady and protective. But his eyes–his beautiful, unreadable green eyes–were locked on his mother, warning her silently not to say another word.
For the first time, Anna Wyndham found herself speechless.
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.