Chapter 6

Adrian’s POV

The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dining room. I sat at the head of the table, adjusting my platinum cufflinks as the faint, rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

My mind was still tangled in the chaotic mess from yesterday. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of the spilled soup and Nora’s pale, tear-streaked face flashed behind my eyelids like a recurring nightmare. I hadn't slept well at all. I had spent half the night staring at the ceiling.

I loved Nora. I really did.

No matter how cold or distant I acted, no matter how hard I pushed her into the background, the truth was that I still loved my wife. She was the woman I had chosen eight years ago, the woman who had stood quietly beside me as I climbed to the top of the Blackwell Group, the woman who had given me my daughter. But love in a family like mine was never simple.

Nora had always been far too emotional, far too fragile for this world. She didn't understand the relentless pressures I faced daily, nor did she understand the social expectations my mother insisted upon. My mother had never accepted Nora. To my mother, Nora was a woman from no background—someone who lacked the proper bloodline, the connections expected of the wife of Blackwell estate. For eight long years, I had been caught in the middle of a quiet war. I tried to protect Nora where I could, but mostly, I expected her to adapt.

And Isla... Isla was simply familiar. She was a childhood friend and my very first love but I don’t feel anything for her this time, my mother’s favorite, and a woman who understood our world without making any awkward demands. When my mother brought up the idea of surrogacy, I rationalized it as a logical solution. Nora’s health had always been delicate, and she was clearly struggling with the pressure of having another child. Isla carrying a child for us was meant to take the physical burden off Nora while satisfying my mother’s endless demand for a male heir. In my mind, it was a businesslike arrangement that protected everyone. Why couldn't Nora just see that I was trying to solve a problem for the whole family?

I ran a hand over my face, smoothing my hair back. I would go upstairs to our bedroom, talk to Nora privately, and smooth things over. I would buy her a diamond necklace and apologize for losing my temper, explain my reasoning gently, and reassure her that no matter what my mother said, she was still the mistress of this house.

My mother walked into the diner room first, her morning gown rustling against the floor as she carried herself with her usual unyielding posture. Natalia followed right behind her, dragging her feet slightly, her eyes still heavy with sleep as she clutched her tablet under her arm.

"Good morning, Adrian," my mother said, settling gracefully into her seat at the foot of the table. She adjusted her glasses and scanned the setting, her brow knitting into a displeased line. "Where is the morning tea? And why aren't the side dishes laid out properly?"

Before I could answer, Isla entered the room. She wore a soft lavender knit sweater, her hands neatly wrapped in white gauze. She looked small, delicate, and deeply apologetic as she glided toward her seat.

"Good morning, Aunt Helena. Good morning, Adrian," Isla murmured, offering a soft smile. She pulled out her chair, sitting down across from me with extreme care. She looked around, her wide eyes filling with concern. "Oh... is Nora not down yet?"

"She isn't," I said, picking up my glass of water and taking a slow sip. "She's probably still in bed."

Isla rested her bandaged hands on her lap, looking at me with a worried expression. "Adrian... do you think she's alright? Yesterday... when the pot fell, she was sitting right in the middle of the soup too. What if she was really injured? What if she's too hurt or upset to come down this morning?"

Helena let out a scoffing laugh, setting her teacup back onto its saucer with a loud click. "Hurt? Please, Isla, don't be so naive. Nora is perfectly fine. She's simply throwing another one of her dramatic tantrums because she didn't get her way. She lacks even the most basic dignity. A refined woman handles minor household accidents with grace, not by locking herself away like a stubborn, petulant child."

"Mother, that's enough," I said, my voice quiet but carrying a firm edge. I turned to Isla, softening my expression to offer her a reassuring look. "Don't worry about it, Isla. It wasn't your fault at all. Nora is just playing tricks, trying to make us feel guilty because she feels out of place. She's done things like this before when she feels overwhelmed. Don't let it bother you. I'll go upstairs and talk some sense into her after we finish eating."

Yet, even as the words left my mouth, a cold, uneasy feeling began to settle into the pit of my stomach.

I knew that wasn't Nora. In eight years of marriage, Nora had never stayed in bed past six in the morning. No matter how sick she felt, no matter how harshly my mother spoke to her, or how cold I had been the night before, Nora was always the first one up. She was always in the kitchen, making sure everything was in order. It was her routine.

The kitchen doors clicked open, and Jessica, the head maid, stepped into the dining room carrying a large silver platter. Her hands were visibly shaking, and her face was entirely drained of color as she carefully laid out the plates of eggs, toast, and bacon.

Natalia set her tablet on the table, reaching out eagerly to pick up a piece of toast. She took a single bite, chewed for a second, and immediately spat the food back out onto her plate with a loud groan of disgust.

"Ew! This tastes gross!" Natalia whined, pushing her plate away so hard the silverware rattled. "Daddy, this isn't what Mommy makes! The eggs are cold and the bacon smells weird!"

I frowned, picking up my fork to take a bite of the omelet on my plate. It was dry, oversalted, and lacked the delicate fragrant Nora always used. A sudden spike of frustration flared in my chest.

"Jessica!" I raised my voice, my command echoing off the high ceilings of the room.

Jessica flinched, quickly stepping forward with her hands tightly folded over her apron. "Y-yes, Mr. Blackwell?"

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded, gesturing coldly toward the unappetizing plates. "Who cooked this breakfast? Where the hell is Nora?"

Jessica swallowed hard, bowing her head so low her chin practically touched her chest. "I am so deeply sorry, Mr. Blackwell. Miss Nora usually prepares all the morning meals herself. But... but she didn't come down to the kitchen at all this morning. We waited for over an hour, but when she didn't show up, the kitchen staff had to hurry and prepare something..."

"She didn't come down at all?" I repeated, my brows drawing together in a frown.

"No, sir," Jessica whispered nervously.

"How utterly insolent!" Helena spat, slamming her hand down onto the table with an outburst of pure rage. Her eyes burned with contempt as she glared in the direction of the staircase. "She knows we have an important guest in the house, yet she sits upstairs pouting like a useless, ungrateful parasite! She eats our food, lives under my son's roof, enjoys the Blackwell name, and cannot even bother to perform the most basic duties of a wife! Adrian, I have told you for eight years that marrying that brainless girl was the single greatest mistake of your life! She brings absolute zero to this family—no fortune, no social standing, and now, not even basic respect!"

Isla’s shoulders began to tremble. She looked around the table, her wide eyes filling with tears that spilled over her face.

"Oh god... it's all my fault," Isla murmured, her voice cracking as she pulled her bandaged hands against her chest in distress. "If I hadn't come back into your lives... none of this would be happening! Nora hates me so much! She hates me so much that she's starving Natalia and disrespecting Aunt Helena just to punish me!"

"Isla, stop, that isn't true—" I started, reaching across the table to comfort her.

"No, Adrian! I shouldn't be here! I'm just ruining your family!" Isla cried out again. She pushed her chair back and stood up, turning to run out of the dining room.

"Isla, wait!" I shouted.

Isla let out a gasp as her balance failed, her knees buckling beneath her as she fell hard on the floor.

"Ah!" Isla cried out, curling on her side near the doorway, weeping bitterly into her hands.

"Isla!"

I bolted out of my chair, completely forgetting my food as I rushed across the room to her side. I dropped to my knees beside her, carefully lifting her shoulders and wrapping an arm around her waist.

"It's okay, Isla. Shh, don't cry," I said, my tone laced with concern as she rested her head against my chest. "Look at me—it’s not your fault. Do you hear me? None of this is your fault. Nora is being completely childish and unreasonable, and I am not going to allow her to treat you or this family like this any longer."

"Daddy, make Mommy stop being mean to Isla!" Natalia yelled from the table, her small face twisted into an angry pout.

"I will, sweetie," I promised, my voice hardening as I carefully helped Isla back up into her chair.

My chest was pounding with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and a strange, quiet anxiety that I refused to acknowledge. Nora had pushed this too far. She was embarrassing me in front of my mother, making Isla cry, and distressing our daughter over a minor disagreement. I had been patient with her moods for a long time, but this pathetic little rebellion ended today.

"Stay here and rest," I told Isla, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I am going upstairs right now to bring her down, and she is going to apologize to every single person at this table."

"Adrian, make sure you put that girl in her place," Helena added coldly from the foot of the table, her tone dripping with venom. "She needs to learn her place once and for all."

I didn't answer. I turned on my heel and marched out of the dining room, my shoes clicking against the marble floor.

I took the staircase two steps at a time, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth throbbed. With every step I took toward the master bedroom, my anger grew. I was going to pull her out of bed, demand an explanation for this absurd behavior, and force her to see how much damage her selfish pride was causing.

I reached the end of the long corridor, grabbed the handle of our bedroom door, and threw it wide open without knocking.

"Nora! That is enough of this—"

The words froze in my throat.