CHAPTER SIX

Isabella's POV

“Isabella, what do you think of Cole Global?”

Vanessa asked the question lightly, the way she might ask about the weather. She even smiled as she set down her wine glass.

I kept my eyes on my plate.

Cole Global.

The name did not exist yet. Not in this life.

In my previous life, those two words had hung in silver letters across the front of a glass tower. Adrian had stood beneath them for the cameras while I clapped politely at the back of the crowd, like everyone else.

Then my sister's thought reached me, sharp and eager.

If she flinches, she remembers.

So this was her test, I thought.

I cut another piece of lamb and chewed slowly. Then I looked up with the most puzzled expression I owned.

“What's Cole Global?”

Vanessa searched my face.

Nothing. Not even a blink. Either she's a better liar than I ever knew, or I'm losing my fucking mind.

“Adrian's company,” she said. “I renamed the firm tonight.”

Adrian lifted his head. “Since when?”

“Since now, darling.” Vanessa squeezed his arm. “Cole Capital sounds like a pawn shop. Cole Global sounds like the future.”

Father seized on the name at once.

“Cole Global.” He repeated the words twice, testing the sound. “Now there's a name with ambition. You see, Margaret? Vanessa understands business.”

Mother nodded quickly, grateful for any subject other than me.

I almost laughed.

Ten minutes ago, Adrian had failed to explain what happens to a bond when interest rates rise. Now my family was celebrating his letterhead.

Vanessa kept staring at me.

She smiled when I chose Adrian. She knew about the loan. And now she's never heard of Cole Global? Impossible. Unless...

I reached for my water glass and let her wonder.

Somewhere at the front of the house, the doorbell rang. Nobody at the table paid attention. Rosa, our housekeeper, would answer.

The peace did not last.

Father seemed to remember his anger all at once. His face darkened again, and he jabbed a finger at me across the table.

“You're still here.”

“I told you, Father. I'm waiting for my husband.”

“Your husband isn't coming!”

His voice rose to a roar.

“You sit at my table, insult your sister's husband, refuse this family five million dollars, and then call your own father a bad investment? Get out of my house before I have you thrown out!”

Mother pressed her napkin to her lips.

“Isabella, please. Must you always embarrass us?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or shall I call Eleanor Blackwood and tell her how her new daughter-in-law behaves at a family dinner?”

She'd be horrified. Women like Eleanor Blackwood don't tolerate scenes.

I thought about Eleanor fretting over whether I would enjoy her lunch.

“Call her,” I said. “She'll ask whether I've eaten.”

Mother stared at me, lost for words.

I poured myself a glass of water and stayed exactly where I was.

Then I heard footsteps in the hall.

Everyone went still.

Not Rosa's light, quick steps. These were heavier. Unhurried.

And they were coming closer.

Father turned towards the doorway, his finger still raised just as Nathaniel Blackwood walked into the dining room.

He came.

A small, foolish part of me had expected a polite message instead. Something about meetings running late. In my previous life, Adrian had sent me a hundred of those.

Nathaniel was still in a charcoal suit, but his tie was gone and his collar hung open. A dark overcoat rested on his shoulders. As he came closer, I caught a sharp, bitter smell on the wool.

It was smoke.

He stopped two steps inside the room, and his gaze moved slowly from one face to the next.

Me, sitting alone at one end of the long table.

Father, standing over me with his finger in the air.

Adrian, glaring at me with open hatred.

Vanessa, watching the whole scene with a small, satisfied smile she did not bother to hide.

I listened for Nathaniel's thoughts.

Silence. As always.

Then he looked at me, and only me.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked. 

Five words. No anger in them. No judgement. Only a question, as though my answer was the one thing in the room which mattered.

Something tight in my chest loosened.

“Yes.”

He nodded once.

Father recovered first. He always did when money walked into a room.

In an instant, the fury left his face and a warm, fatherly smile took over.

“Nathaniel! What perfect timing.” He came around the table with his hand out. “We were discussing a family opportunity. Adrian's firm is ready to expand, and with the right partner, five million dollars would...”

“I heard.”

Father's hand hung in the air between them.

“I've been standing in your hallway for two minutes, Mr. Whitmore,” Nathaniel said. “I heard enough.”

Father lowered his hand.

How much did he hear? Did he hear me shouting at her?

Nathaniel did not raise his voice. He had no need to.

“I won't invest in Adrian's company. Not five million. Not five dollars.” He let the words settle. “And nobody in this family will pressure my wife to ask me again.”

My wife.

He said the words as though nobody in the room had the right to argue with them.

The room went silent.

Mother's thoughts reached me first, thin with panic.

We've lost him. Oh God, we've lost him.

Vanessa's came next, quiet and bitter, full of something I had never heard from her before.

He never once stood up for me. Not once in our whole marriage.

Adrian said nothing. His jaw was clenched so tight I saw a muscle jump in his cheek.

His thoughts were colder than his face. Five million dollars. She cost me five million dollars with one sentence.

Nathaniel walked to my side and drew back my chair.

I stood, collected my phone from the middle of the table where the family group chat still glowed, and slipped the phone into my bag.

“Thank you for dinner, Mother,” I said. “The lamb was excellent.”

Mother opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Again.

***

Rosa met us in the front hall with my coat. Nathaniel took the coat from her with a quiet thank you and held the sleeves open for me himself.

Rosa's eyes went wide.

Nineteen years in this house, and no man has ever held a coat for Miss Isabella.

I slid my arms into the sleeves. Nathaniel leaned closer and spoke low, for me alone.

“A warehouse caught fire in New Jersey this afternoon. Nobody was hurt. I came straight here.”

He said the words simply, as though crossing a state line after a fire was nothing worth mentioning.

“You didn't have to come.”

“I said I would.”

He turned to open the front door.

Then, behind me, footsteps came. Fast.

A second later, a hand closed around my wrist as Adrian spoke.

“We're not finished.”

His voice was soft. Pleasant, even. The voice he saved for investors and waiters and my father.

His thumb pressed into the inside of my wrist, right over the pulse.

And my body remembered.

The marble staircase. Whiskey on his breath. His hands around my throat, squeezing harder and harder while I clawed at his fingers and the edges of the room turned black.

I froze.

My lungs stopped working. The hall shrank until all I saw was his hand on my skin.

She's shaking, Adrian thought, and the thought held something close to pleasure. Good.

Move, I told myself. Pull away. Scream. Do something.

But my body did nothing at all.

Then a second hand closed over Adrian's wrist.

Large. Steady. Not gentle.

“Take your hand off my wife,” Nathaniel said quietly.