Chapter 272

Verena pressed her palms against Isaac's broad chest, intending to pause and catch her breath. Yet, the moment she tried to retreat, he leaned forward with eager persistence.

Startled, her brows knitted, and a faint hum slipped from her lips.

Isaac's gaze was unreadable; instead of giving her space, he closed in further, his grip fastening firmly around her waist, leaving her no path of escape.

His kisses fell gently, one after another, wrapping the room in an air of tenderness, almost paintingthe walls with quiet romance.

By the time they finally made their way downstairs for breakfast, the sun had already climbed high,its golden rays pouring through the vast windows and bathing the living room in warmth.

After the closeness of that morning, Isaac spoke nothing of the night before.

His expression and manner carried no difference, as though what had unfolded the previous night had been no more than a passing dream.

Verena, however, was leftunsettled. Last night, she had nearly fallen apart, her tears soaking into his clothes.

She knew Isaac well enough-he was not the kind of man to ignore her grief, nor one to wear indifference like armor.

Yet here he was, silent, not asking a single question, not even showing curiosity.

Why?

Her thoughts tangled, drifting back unwillingly to the night just gone.

She recalled vividly the sorrow in his eyes when he had spoken of his late father, the remorse etched into every word. For months, he had carried that torment, branding himself guilty for the accident that had stolen his father's life.

But now the tides were shifting.

If he ever learned that the root of that tragedy lay with her, how would he look at her then?

With bitter accusations? Or with a gulf of silence that no bridge could cross?

Verena dared not trace the thought further, yet shé knew some truths refused to stay buried.

She pressed her lips tight before finally breaking the silence.

Raising her gaze, she spoke softly. "Isaac, aren't you going to ask what happened yesterday? Don't you want to know why I said 'I'm sorry'?"

Her words dimmed his eyes instantly, like clouds snuffing out starlight.

He lowered his head, his shoulders sagging slightly.

in truth, he longed to know-curiosity gnawed at him-but fear was a crueler companion.

He dreaded the details, dreaded each word like a blade poised to carve into his heart.

He could not bear to learn why she had shed tears for another man.

So,he chose silence, hoping that time might erase what he could not confront.

At that moment, Rhonda emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup.

Grasping it as though it were a rope thrown to a drowning man, Isaac quickly took the bowl.

Scooping up a spoonful, he gently blew on it, dispersing the steam, and said in a measured tone, "This is a new recipe Rhonda has been perfecting. It's good for you and the little one. Taste it and see if you like it."

His every movement was careful, almost reverent; his lowered lashes softened his whole demeanor.

Verena watched quietly as he lifted the spoon. to her lips. After a brief hesitation, she parted themn and accepted the soup. "How does it táste?" he asked in a low voice.

"Delicious." Verena nodded gently, forcing a faint smile.

Yet the words she truly wished to speak pressed hard against her tongue, restless, begging release.

But when she looked into his eyes--so gentle, so steady-her courage ebbed away like sand slipping through an hourglass.

With a sigh that she swallowed inwardly, she told herself now was not the time. Better to wait, to speak only when the dust of all this had settled.

Lowering her gaze, she tried to smother the storm within, not wanting him to see the turbulence beneath her calm surface.

Moments later, she lifted her head again and said slowly,"Isaac, you can stopinvestigating Simon's case.I already have the answers I need. I'll meet him later-just arrange for a few bodyguards to accompany me."

After a pause, she added, "Once everything is over, there are things I must tell you."

Isaac's grip on the spoon tightened abruptly at the last part of her words, his knuckles blanching with strain.

His heart sank like a stone tossed into deep water, a dark thought flickering across his mind.

Was she going to speak of her and Ivan?

What words would fall from her lips-a farewell, or something that would cut even deeper?

He looked up at her, the guilt in her eyes causing his heartto tighten.

That was what he feared most.

For guilt was another way of asking forgiveness, and he had already heard her apology last night.

Swallowing the heaviness in his chest, Isaac forced his voice steady, nodding as he said, "Alright. I'll have Jacob arrange bodyguards to go with you."

After breakfast, Isaac left for work. Verena,with the day free, changed out of her casual clothes upstairs and dialed Simon's number.

He picked up almost at once.

"Evelyn, is it really you?" His voice, warm and tinged with delight, carried surprise.

But for Verena, the respect she once felt for Simon had withered. Now, even the sound of his voice turned her stomach.

She bit her lip before replying, "It's me. Dr. Moss, do you have time? Let's meet-I have some questions for you."

Though she remained polite, her tone stirred something in Simon's chest, unsettling him.

His brows furrowed, jealousy and displeasure rising like a tide.

The last time she had asked him to meet, he thought she might harbor feelings for him-only to find the conversation circling back to Isaac, the man in the wheelchair.

Was it the same again?

Would Isaac's shadow always stretch between them?

The bitterness tightened his grip on the phone.

Before resentment could root deeper, Verena added calmly, "It's regarding some psychological matters."

At once, Simon's expression cleared, his gloom vanishing like mist under the sun. His eyes lit up, and joy he could not hide laced his voice.

"Alright. Send me the address. I'll be there right away."