CHAPTER 3 — Storm In His Eyes

~ ISLA ~

I couldn’t move. I felt like a statue—frozen in the corner of the room.

My heart was still pounding erratically from what had just happened. I had only meant to feel his breath, but my soul nearly leaped out of my body when his big hand shot up, caught my arm, and held it firmly.

I was utterly stunned and speechless when I met those sharp, stormy gray eyes. To be honest, this was the scariest scenario I had faced so far—in all the operations and blood I had ever seen in my life. I didn’t know why, but just looking into his eyes and feeling that powerful aura radiating off him sent chills down my spine. It got even worse the moment the old lady arrived and told him I'm his contracted wife.

His expression darkened like a brewing storm, and his piercing eyes locked on me—so full of questions I didn’t have the answers to.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, especially when his stare felt like sharp daggers stabbing into my skin.

“You made arrangements without my consent?” he snapped at his grandmother coldly.

I watched the way his jaw locked, the way his lips pressed into a hard, unforgiving line.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up. So I decided to hire a suitable woman to bear your heir. You can’t just die without leaving something that’s worth all that you’ve fought for,” Margot stated nonchalantly, treating death as though it were trivial.

Alistair scoffed. But his eyes… they weren’t just displeased. They were cold. Cold enough to burn.

I swallowed hard, my breath trembling as Margot explained everything to him. Each word felt like a nail being hammered deeper.

And through it all, he said nothing. Not even a word.

But silence can be louder than rage.

When Margot finished, I thought maybe he’d look away, maybe give me some mercy. But he didn’t. Those gray storms stayed locked on me until the elderly rose, turning to me with that same commanding air.

“Come with me, Isla.”

I stepped forward slowly, my legs unsteady, and followed her out of the room. I didn’t dare glance back—because if I did, I was certain my knees would buckle completely.

***

Old lady Margot led me to the lift, and when we reached the third floor, she guided me down a long corridor until we arrived at her private study—a warm, elegant space softer than the rest of the mansion.

The faint scent of roses and herbal tea hung in the air, while a small fire crackled in the hearth, chasing away the chill clinging to my skin.

“Sit, child,” she said, gesturing toward the sofa across from her.

I lowered myself onto the plush seat while she poured tea with precise, careful movements, then handed me a cup.

“Thank you… Grandma,” I said cautiously.

Her expression remained composed, stern even, but there was a softness in her eyes now, almost imperceptible.

I wrapped my fingers around the warm porcelain. The heat seeped into my cold palms, but it wasn’t enough to calm the uneasiness inside me.

“Don’t be frightened,” she said after a pause, her voice low and measured. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. And I was impressed by your achievements. You’re a hardworking woman.”

A pang hit my chest. Words like that— I hadn’t heard from my own family.

“Thank you, Grandma,” I whispered again, my eyes stinging.

She nodded subtly, setting down her cup. “I’ve already arranged a personal driver for you, if you wish to continue working at the hospital. Now that you belong to the Montgomery family, you won’t be treated as an outsider.”

I blinked at her words.

Why did it sound so permanent when everything was supposedly a three-year contract? And Alistair—judging by the look on his face earlier, I'm certain he would find a way to break the agreement.

I really pray he will do so..

“Even though my grandson has woken up, nothing will change on the contract,” Margot said.

I swallowed hard. “He looked… angry.”

“Alistair may seem harsh, but he’s not unkind. It's just that some of his painful memories shaped him to become what he is now,” Margot corrected, then let out a quiet sigh.

My stomach twisted at her words.

Even without saying it outright, I understood. Alistair’s story was known to anyone paying attention. An illegitimate Montgomery—a man who once loved deeply, only to be discarded.

“I… I’m sorry,” even though no apology could ever be enough.

But I didn't know what else to say.

“Don’t be sorry.” Her lips curved into a faint smile, almost hidden beneath the stern lines of her face. “In fact, I like you. I hope you and my grandson will get along.”

****

By six in the evening, I finally returned to the fourth floor.

Lady Margot had insisted I need to learn everything about Alistair’s life. So I stayed there for hours, saw his childhood photos, and discussed some of her advice. My anxiousness eased slightly somehow.

But as I was approaching the master’s bedroom, I suddenly became hesitant.

I paused for a moment and leaned my ear against the door—trying to hear what was happening inside.

Nothing. Just silence. Maybe he was sleeping?

I slowly turned the knob and peeked inside.

The lights were dim, the curtains drawn. The air was warm, filled with the faint scent of sandalwood and musk.

But when I caught sight of his silhouette, I nearly collapsed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a loose black silk robe, with his back facing me.

He’s awake! His head bowed slightly, deep in thought.

For a split second, I wanted to run—but then, reality hit brutally in me. There was no escape.

I took a shaky breath and pushed the door open. The hinges creaked, and his head lifted.

Gray eyes—cold as steel, sharp as broken glass—locked onto mine.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then his deep voice broke the silence, low and firm. “Why are you here?”

His words weren't angry, but they weren’t welcoming either. They're like a wall—unyielding, distant.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My throat felt dry, my voice swallowed by the intensity of his stare.

He didn't say another word as he lay down and covered himself with a quilt—while I stood there, like an intruder of his sanctuary.

I realized, with a sinking feeling, that he wasn’t going to make this easy. He's far more scary than the rumors circling about him. And I… had nowhere to hide.

I stepped back, closing the bedroom door softly behind me. My hands trembled as I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my racing heart.

That's when my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out, expecting a routine message or work update. Instead, my screen lit up with a single message that made my stomach dropped:

“Sis, I’m coming back.”