บททั้งหมดของ BLOOD CONTRACT : WINTER'S VOW: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

ALEXANDERZurich at night was a study in precise elegance,lights reflecting off the lake, centuries-old architecture illuminated against the darkness, everything in its proper place with Swiss exactitude. It suited my temperament, which was perhaps why I'd chosen it for our destination."We'll be arriving at the hotel in approximately five minutes, sir," my driver informed me as we navigated the evening traffic from the private airfield.I nodded acknowledgment, my attention focused on the woman beside me. Izzy,I was still adjusting to the shortened name,had been quiet since our descent into Switzerland, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery with an artist's attention to detail. She looked exhausted, the events of the day etched in the slight tension around her eyes, yet she maintained the composed dignity that had characterized her throughout our wedding ceremony.That midnight blue dress had been a statement,subtle but unmistakable. Not a bride surrendering, but a woman honoring the

ISABELLAI woke to sunlight streaming through windows I didn't recognize.For one disorienting moment, I forgot where I was,the unfamiliar softness of the mattress, the hushed silence broken only by distant city sounds, the quality of light so different from my bedroom in Boston. Then reality crashed back with brutal clarity: Zurich. Honeymoon. Alexander Blackwood.My husband.The gold band on my left finger caught the morning light, a simple but undeniable reminder of the vows I'd spoken yesterday. Beside it, the black pearl gleamed with quiet menace, like a drop of midnight captured in metal and gem.I sat up, pushing tangled hair from my face as I took in my surroundings with fresh eyes. The bedroom was impeccably appointed,all creams and soft grays, with subtle touches of luxury in the Italian linens and hand-knotted silk rugs. A palette designed to soothe and impress simultaneously. Much like the man who had selected it, I imagined.The unexpected thought of Alexander brought the

ISABELLAWe both turned to see a striking woman approaching,tall, impeccably dressed, with sleek dark hair and the confident stride of someone accustomed to commanding attention."Sophia," Alexander acknowledged, his expression immediately shifting to careful neutrality. "This is unexpected.""Clearly," she replied with a knowing smile, her gaze moving from him to me with open curiosity. "I didn't realize you were in Zurich.""Business meetings," he said simply, offering no further explanation.The woman,Sophia,raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her attention focusing fully on me now. "And this is...?"Alexander's hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was noticeable nonetheless. "My wife, Isabella," he said finally. "Izzy, this is Sophia Reinholt. An... old friend."The way he hesitated over the word "friend" sent a clear message, as did the flash of surprise and something like hurt that crossed Sophia's flawless features."Wife?" she repeated, her accent,German, per

ALEXANDERThe silence in the jet was deafening.Seven miles above the Atlantic, I watched Isabella stare out the window, her profile etched with tension, her body angled away from me with deliberate distance. She hadn't spoken more than three words since we'd boarded in Zurich, the easy rapport we'd established over the past two days vanished as completely as if it had never existed.I should have been satisfied. This cold detachment was what I had originally anticipated from our arrangement,a reluctant bride fulfilling her contractual obligations while maintaining emotional distance. It aligned perfectly with my objectives. Winston Caldwell would suffer watching his daughter bound to me in frigid formality, unable to escape yet unwilling to embrace her fate.So why did Isabella's sudden withdrawal disturb me?The flight attendant approached with refreshments, her professional smile faltering slightly at the palpable tension between us. I declined with a brief shake of my head, but Is

ALEXANDER"But you would have known if she had been previously married," I pressed, needing certainty where there seemed to be none. "That's not something that would have been kept from you entirely.""Probably not," she agreed, though without the conviction I'd hoped for. "Mom wasn't secretive by nature. But there were subjects that were clearly off-limits,times in her life before Dad that she refused to discuss."The implications were disturbing, to say the least. "The test results will clarify everything," I said, more to reassure myself than her."And if they confirm Winston's claim?" she asked quietly.I had no answer that satisfied either of us.After ending the call with Rebecca, I found sleep impossible. Her revelations about our mother's "gaps" and our father's insistence on my paternity had introduced doubt where I had expected to find none. The possibility that Winston Caldwell might actually be my biological father,that Isabella might truly be my half-sister,seemed suddenl