Semua Bab BLOOD CONTRACT : WINTER'S VOW: Bab 21 - Bab 30

ALEXANDER"My parents died when I was sixteen," I said, offering the simplified version that omitted Winston Caldwell's role in their demise.Evelyn's expression softened with genuine sympathy. "I'm so sorry, dear. That's much too young to lose your family."The simple compassion in her words was unexpectedly affecting. This woman,this stranger suffering from her own substantial losses,offering sympathy for a tragedy fifteen years past with more sincerity than I'd received from many who had known me at the time."Thank you," I managed, unsettled by the sudden tightness in my throat.Isabella's hand, still holding mine from our moment of shared tension, squeezed gently,a gesture of support I hadn't anticipated and didn't know how to interpret. I found myself returning the pressure briefly before our hands separated, the momentary connection broken but not forgotten.The remainder of the visit passed in surprisingly comfortable conversation, with Evelyn asking questions about our respec

ISABELLAObsession.My father's word echoed in my mind as I stood before the expansive closet in what was now my bedroom, selecting an outfit for my first public appearance as Mrs. Alexander Blackwood. The accusation had lingered for three days since James had delivered that disturbing note,three days of careful navigation around the implications it contained.He's OBSESSED with you. The marriage was his way of possessing you, not just hurting me.I traced my fingers over the clothes that had been transferred from my childhood home, now hanging alongside new items I didn't recognize,designer pieces with tags still attached. Alexander's doing? Or James's meticulous attention to detail? Either way, the presence of these carefully selected additions suggested planning beyond what mere revenge would require.Could there be truth in my father's desperate claim? Alexander's admission that he had systematically destroyed my father's personal relationships for fifteen years revealed a depth o

She studied me for a moment, as if assessing whether my praise was genuine or merely polite. "Thank you," she said finally. "It was... encouraging to be valued for my work rather than my complicated marital status."The candid acknowledgment of our situation's strangeness hung between us, neither accusation nor complaint but simple statement of fact. I found myself appreciating her directness rather than resenting it."Have you decided about tomorrow's meeting?" I asked, shifting to the matter at hand.She nodded, her expression becoming more serious. "I'll attend," she said firmly. "Whatever game my father is playing, I want to witness it firsthand rather than receiving filtered accounts afterward."The decision didn't surprise me, given what I had observed of her character thus far. Isabella Caldwell,Blackwood now,was not someone who avoided difficult confrontations or unpleasant truths."I'll have James arrange the seating accordingly," I acknowledged. "Though I should warn you, se

"I've made arrangements to leave Boston," my father continued, his attention returning to Alexander. "The financial movements you've been tracking are preparations for extended absence while these matters resolve themselves. But Isabella's situation is more complex. She's publicly connected to you now, visible in ways that make discreet extraction challenging.""Extraction?" I repeated, the clinical term sending another chill through me. "You're suggesting I should...what? Flee with you? Abandon my life, my mother's care, my work because of threats against files that may or may not contain significant information?""I'm suggesting," my father said carefully, "that your continued association with Alexander places you at risk from individuals who believe he controls access to potentially damaging information. Whether those files actually contain such information is irrelevant to the threat perception."I turned to Alexander, searching his expression for some indication of his thoughts o

ALEXANDER"You're staring again."James's observation pulled me from thoughts I hadn't realized had become so transparent. Across the gallery, Isabella stood in animated conversation with the curator, her hands moving expressively as she discussed the painting being considered for the upcoming exhibition. The midnight blue dress she'd chosen for tonight's event clung to her curves in a way that made concentrating on business nearly impossible, the fabric shifting like liquid against her skin with each subtle movement."Professional interest," I replied, dragging my attention back to the investment reports James had been discussing. "Her successful exhibition reflects positively on the Blackwood name."The skeptical arch of James's eyebrow made it clear he saw through this flimsy justification. "Of course," he agreed dryly. "Purely professional interest in how that dress highlights her,""The European expansion numbers," I interrupted, not needing him to verbalize observations my body