Chapter 157
No.1
Isabella was fighting sleep. The man continued, undeterred. “Our five-year expansion plan targets key cities domestically, with a long-term goal of global market penetration by…”
He was moving on to future plans now.
Isabella shifted in his hold. His scent filled her senses. Clean. Masculine. Potent. Her cheek rested against the hard contour of his chest. The defined muscle was unmistakable even through his shirt.
This position was dangerously intimate. She’d been in his arms for an eternity. Under the watchful eyes of his entire staff.
What if someone saw something? A stray strand of hair. A familiar curve of her body. What if they figured out it was her?
She couldn’t take it anymore. The waiting was torture.
She pressed a finger firmly into his back. A silent, urgent plea.
Nathaniel felt the prodding pressure. A slow, knowing smile curved his mouth. He made no move to acknowledge it. Or to stop the report.
Isabella’s brow furrowed.
Did Nathaniel truly feel no pain?
She pressed harder this time, shifting her attention to his waist.
Nathaniel’s gaze sharpened as he registered the increased pressure.
“Impressive,” he remarked.
“Keep going.”
No.2
He continued toward the elevator, still holding her.
The entire lobby fell into stunned silence.
Mr. Blackwood had not only listened to every report but praised their work?
He even encouraged them?
No one had ever seen him in such high spirits.
Was it because of the woman in his arms?
All eyes followed Isabella with intense curiosity.
They bowed respectfully as the elevator doors closed.
“Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.”
Who was this woman who could influence Nathaniel so profoundly?
They were desperate to know.
Even inside the elevator, Isabella could feel their lingering stares.
It was as if laser beams were aimed at her back.
She still couldn’t comprehend why Nathaniel had entertained those reports.
No.3
The whole ordeal took eight full minutes.
With so many people watching, wouldn’t it have been wiser to leave immediately?
Only when Nathaniel placed her in the passenger seat did she finally relax.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” she challenged.
He glanced at her, feigning innocence as he fastened his seatbelt.
“Did what?”
Isabella wanted to accuse him outright.
If they had headed straight to the car, he wouldn’t have needed to carry her for so long.
Everything pointed to him deliberately prolonging their very public display.
But Nathaniel’s expression gave nothing away.
He looked every bit the honorable gentleman.
She swallowed her words and turned away.
“Never mind.”
She decided to let it go—for now.
No.4
But she resolved to avoid public appearances with him whenever possible.
The car glided smoothly toward the Blackwood Estate.
Isabella remembered Vivienne’s spy and instinctively moved to lie across Nathaniel’s lap.
Then she recalled last night’s embarrassment and hesitated.
Her eyes scanned the interior.
This was the latest Rolls-Royce J11 custom model, with seats that could recline fully flat.
She pressed the button beside her seat.
The leather hummed as it gradually lowered.
Nathaniel watched, his lips curving slightly.
Dominic had delivered the car just that morning.
How did Isabella know its features so well?
What other secrets was she hiding?
Vivienne’s spy was left with nothing once again.
The car entered the private elevator and ascended directly into the mansion.
No.5
As they stepped out, Oliver came running toward Isabella.
He wrapped his small arms around her legs.
“Mommy! You’re back! I had them make soup for you! Drink it while it’s warm!”
A maid approached, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl.
It was chicken liver soup.
Isabella’s cheeks flushed.
Why had Oliver requested this specific soup?
He took her hand, guiding her toward a sofa.
“Sit down, Mommy. Be careful. You have to protect the baby in your tummy.”
Isabella froze.
Baby?
Her head snapped toward Nathaniel.
What had he told Oliver?
Nathaniel stared at her, equally bewildered.
No.6
Christopher had already guided her to the dining chair. He picked up a spoon and held it toward Isabella's lips.
She frowned. "I'm not hungry, sweetheart. Mommy already ate."
"But you need nutrients! Even I know that. Don't be shy, Mommy."
His eyes sparkled as they dropped to her abdomen. "So," he whispered excitedly, "will it be a brother or a sister?"
Isabella froze.
A sibling?
Did Oliver believe she and Nathaniel had been intimate at the hotel?
Of course he would. Why else would he prepare liver soup and mention babies?
"Darling," she explained gently, "Mommy didn't do anything like that. You're letting your imagination run wild. And besides—"
"I understand! You're superstitious and won't talk about it before three months!" He pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't worry, it's our secret!"
Isabella sighed in exasperation.
What were children learning these days? Before she could formulate a proper explanation, Oliver suddenly brightened and scurried into his bedroom.
Through the cracked door, she watched him sorting through his toys.
She turned to Nathaniel. "What do we do now? How do we explain this?"
No.7
"We don't. Sebastian said maintaining his happiness is crucial for his health." Nathaniel remained completely unbothered.
Isabella rolled her eyes. Of course he wouldn't mind—he wasn't the supposedly pregnant one.
Speaking of which...
"Didn't you promise to focus on curing Oliver within three months? Any progress?"
"Sebastian went to America. He's studying the latest treatment methods. We're optimistic."
Isabella's brow furrowed. Optimistic?
So there were no guarantees?
She supposed that made sense. Mental health remained one of medicine's greatest challenges worldwide.
Her gaze returned to Oliver, who now alternated between toy cars and dolls with a delighted smile. He seemed to be deciding which toy would suit a brother or sister.
He deserved a joyful childhood. Why did he have to suffer like this? If only he had a permanent mother figure—someone who could give him a sibling. Perhaps then he'd find daily happiness and eventually heal.
The thought tugged painfully at her heart.
A notification chimed on her phone.
A message from Beatrice. [Master Worthington expects you at The Ivy at 8 PM tonight. Don't forget. Thank you!]