CHAPTER 4

Isla’s POV

I kicked off my heels the moment I stepped inside, feeling the cool touch of the hardwood floor beneath my bare feet. The mansion—a gift from Grandpa Henry—was grand, every corner polished and perfect. 

Still, for all its beauty, the place felt empty. Lonely.

But I brushed that thought away, determined not to dwell on it. This was my space now, and I was free. 

There was no one here but the house staff, who kept everything pristine but left me with the silence of the rooms echoing in the background. Silence was better than the chaos Logan had brought into my life. 

I still choose this. Oh, God. I need this. 

I padded to the bedroom, pulling my hair loose from its messy knot as I went. The cool air hit my neck, and I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. I paused, tilting my head slightly. I’d always been my worst critic, but tonight… tonight, I looked good. Even I couldn’t deny that.

“Not bad, Isla,” I murmured to myself, running a hand through my long, wavy hair. “You’ve still got it.”

A small smile played on my lips as I let my day clothes fall away, slipping into a silky nightgown that draped softly over my figure, tracing each line with subtle elegance. It was bolder than my usual choice, but tonight I craved that edge—a quiet, unapologetic power. I wanted to feel confident, beautiful, and completely in charge of my own life. 

After all, tomorrow was a big day—my first meeting with Ethan. My heart fluttered at the thought, though not for the reasons people might assume. No, this wasn’t about romance or rekindling old flames. I wanted to meet him because I needed to be sure that the man who would help me bring a child into this world had the right physical condition, the right genes.

I walked over to the vanity and studied myself in the mirror, letting the silk slide against my skin as I turned, checking all the angles. My reflection smiled back at me.

“I can do this,” I whispered, giving myself a mental pep talk. “It’s just a meeting. A casual chat. You need to know for certain, that’s all.”

There was a small knot of nerves at the pit of my stomach, but I ignored it. This wasn’t about Ethan or anyone else. It was about me taking control of my life—on my terms. Logan always acted like he knew what was best for me, but he never really understood what I wanted. What I needed.

Tomorrow would be different. I’d get the answers I needed, and I’d take another step toward the future I deserved.

It wasn’t long before I found myself sitting in the small café I had chosen for the meeting. It was simple and discreet, tucked away from the bustling streets, just the way I wanted it. No one would expect me here. 

I arrived early, with my nerves on edge. This wasn’t an ordinary meeting, after all.

When Ethan Prescott walked in, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but his presence caught my attention immediately. I could tell he was quite attractive, no doubt about it—casual but well put together. I couldn't quite make out his face, though. With my condition, recognizing features was never easy.

His crisp button-up shirt, paired with jeans and polished shoes, gave him a professional yet relaxed air. He had that kind of understated charm that seemed effortless, the kind that made you wonder where he came from and how he carried himself so confidently. And yet… he was a sperm donor.

I couldn't quite wrap my head around that. He looked like he had no financial difficulties. He didn’t look like someone who’d need to resort to something like this for money. So why? A question I couldn’t quite shake off.

I kept my expression neutral as I extended my hand. "Ethan."

He smiled, taking my hand in his. "Isla, it’s good to finally meet you."

His voice was warm, smooth—far too comfortable for a situation as unique as ours. I motioned for him to sit, and we settled into an awkward silence for a moment. I glanced over his features. Strong jawline, clear eyes, and there was something about the way he carried himself that screamed well-educated.

“So,” I began, trying to keep the conversation professional, “I wanted to meet in person because I think it’s important to know… well, who I’m potentially bringing into my life. In a way.”

He smiled again, that charming curve of his lips. “Of course. I’d be happy to answer any questions.”

I nodded. But the idea of what we were about to discuss still felt surreal. “I’ll be honest,” I said, folding my hands on the table, “I just need to be sure. This isn’t something I’m taking lightly. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Ethan leaned forward slightly. “I understand, Isla. And I respect that.” There was something in his eyes—something warm and showing interest that went beyond just this arrangement. I noticed the subtle shift, the way he seemed to focus more on me than the reason we were here.

I frowned, wondering why he stared at me like he’d known me for a long time. And as we talked, I couldn’t help wondering, Is he… trying to win me over? 

“So, tell me about yourself. I mean, beyond the obvious. What do you do?”

“I work in marketing for a startup. It’s a passion project, really,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His gaze held mine, an intensity simmering just beneath his calm words. “But I’ve always wanted to do more, you know? Something with meaning… give back, ignite life in people.” 

He paused, and I noticed his hand drift closer on the table, his fingers just grazing mine. My heart jumped, but I tried not to seem obvious that I was affected. He went on, “I think that’s why I decided to become a donor.”

There was a softness to his tone that caught me off guard. He wasn’t just explaining; he was drawing me in, creating a moment just for us. I could feel the sincerity, like an undercurrent that ran through the easy, practiced way he spoke. And then, a playful glint sparked in his eyes as he added, “Of course, maybe it’s also because I enjoy… connection.”

As he said it, his thumb brushed my hand, remaining just a second too long. It was barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down my spine.

As I listened to Ethan speak, memories of my long, lifeless marriage with Logan began to surface, uninvited. Logan had never put in this kind of effort—not even close. Not in years. The last stretch of our marriage had been a desert, barren and cold. We hadn’t touched each other in so long that I almost forgot what it felt like to be desired, to have someone look at me the way Ethan was looking at me now—like I was someone worth chasing.

I couldn’t ignore the way his gaze lingered, tracing over my face, as if memorizing every line and curve. His voice softened, low and intimate. “Sometimes I think we get only a few chances to live fully… to really connect,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t you think?”

I squirmed a little bit in my seat as my eyes roved over his body, stirring heat within me.  I felt something I hadn’t in what felt like forever. Desire. Hunger. Boldness.

“Maybe you’re right,” I managed, my voice croaking just a bit. I cleared my throat and shifted slightly, the spark of desire flaring inside me.

Our eyes met, and in that charged silence, something shifted, a moment suspended between us. A part of me that had been dormant, neglected, was waking up. And before I could think it through, the words slipped out of my mouth, driven by the boldness of that long-buried desire.

“Would you…” I started, my voice catching as the words left my lips without warning, driven by the thrill he’d rekindled inside me. “Would you be open to doing this the old-fashioned way?”