Chapter 271

No.1

An involuntary smile touched her lips. "Why so many?"

There were enough pads to last an entire year.

"I wasn't sure which brand you preferred, so I bought one of each," Nathaniel stated bluntly, his expression neutral.

"How much do I owe you? I'll transfer the money."

"Mommy, these are for you! Daddy got them specially! But if you really want to repay him, you could just hug and kiss me," Oliver chirped, stepping forward with his chubby arms outstretched.

Isabella initially intended to refuse, but his adorable pouting face melted her resistance. She bent down and lifted him into her arms. "Sweetheart, you shouldn't be so wasteful. Money doesn't come easily, and I need to reimburse him."

"But you're my Mommy, and we're family! It's perfectly fine," Oliver insisted cheerfully.

Isabella gently stroked his cheek and spoke softly. "Darling, I know you care about me, but I'm not actually your mother. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Mommy," Oliver replied casually.

She decided to drop the subject, reasoning that their interactions would be limited anyway. Turning to Nathaniel, she said, "It's getting rather late. You should take Oliver home to rest. He's at a growing age and needs proper sleep."

No.2

Nathaniel's brow furrowed. He had come specifically to look after her, and she was dismissing him already?

A sudden idea sparked in his eyes. "Oliver, come here." Nathaniel reached for the boy. "We're leaving now."

"No! I only want Mommy to hold me! I want to stay with Mommy tonight!" Oliver clung tightly to Isabella's neck.

Nathaniel's expression tightened. "Don't be difficult."

"But I just want to be with Mommy!" Oliver gripped even tighter.

Nathaniel's elegant features darkened immediately. "Come here this instant." He seized Oliver's arm. "What was our agreement before we left home today? Have you forgotten already?" His voice sharpened as he delivered a firm smack to the boy's rear.

Smack!

A loud slap echoed through the room, followed by Oliver's pained sobs.

"Sniff... sniff... It hurts... Stop hitting me...!"

Nathaniel's handsome face grew colder. "Stop crying immediately. Big boys don't cry." He raised his hand threateningly for another strike.

No.3

"Waa... Mommy! Help! Save me!" Oliver cried hoarsely, tears streaming down his face as he blinked desperately.

Isabella could no longer remain silent. She swiftly pulled Oliver away from Nathaniel, glaring at him angrily. "Mr. Blackwood, I don't mean to interfere, but this is no way to discipline your son! He's just a child! This kind of treatment could traumatize him!"

"He disobeyed me first," Nathaniel reasoned impassively.

"Waa... I didn't do anything wrong...!" Oliver whimpered again. "I just want to be with Mommy. I miss Mommy! I've never had the chance to sleep with Mommy... I don't want to sleep alone in the children's room... I want Mommy's hugs! I want to be with Mommy..."

His tears flowed freely down his cheeks like waterfalls.

Isabella's heart melted with compassion. "Sweetheart, don't cry, don't cry," she soothed gently. "You can stay here tonight. I'll protect you."

"Really?" Oliver stopped crying instantly, a radiant smile spreading across his face.

"My apologies for the inconvenience, and thank you for your understanding, Miss Montgomery." With those words, Nathaniel walked to the door and closed it firmly behind him.

???

What just happened?

No.4

“I permitted Christopher to remain. I never authorized your stay.”

Isabella’s tone was firm as she addressed Nathaniel.

He stepped closer, expression serious. “My apologies. Oliver’s condition is unpredictable. Nighttime seizures are a real concern. I can’t leave him unsupervised.”

“Mommy, please let Daddy stay. He cooks. He cleans. He’s useful!” Oliver’s voice was sweet, persuasive.

Isabella raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Your father does housework?”

“Yes! Ask him yourself.” Oliver glanced toward Nathaniel.

Nathaniel paused briefly under her scrutinizing gaze, then nodded. “It’s true.”

“Fine. You can stay. Make dinner. Three dishes, one soup. Keep it simple. And healthy,” Isabella commanded. With no meal delivery scheduled, a personal chef wasn’t unwelcome.

He had offered, after all.

Nathaniel seemed momentarily taken aback by her specific instructions. Nevertheless, he removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and carried the groceries to the kitchen. His physique was noticeable beneath his crisp shirt—toned and commanding. Isabella found her eyes drifting toward him, her pulse quickening unexpectedly.

No.5

Strange. She’d encountered countless attractive men. Why did Nathaniel affect her so strongly?

“Mommy, I’m tired. Will you read to me?” Oliver asked softly.

Isabella shook off her distraction. “Of course. Close your eyes.” She lifted him, carried him to the bedroom, and settled beside him.

Oliver curled against her, his head resting on her arm. Isabella began, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Once, there was a lone wolf…”

She didn’t recognize her own soothing tone. Her expression softened with affection. She expected a long story, but Oliver was asleep within moments. His breathing evened, his small hands stilled.

Asleep so quickly?

She lightly brushed his cheek. When he didn’t stir, she carefully slid her arm free. She tucked the blanket around him, adjusted the thermostat to a comfortable level, and quietly left the room.

In the kitchen, Nathaniel stood frowning at the array of ingredients.

“Need assistance?” A playful voice came from the doorway.

Nathaniel turned. Isabella leaned against the frame, arms crossed, an amused smirk on her lips.

No.6

He remained composed. “Simply deciding on the cooking method.”

She laughed lightly, stepping forward. She took his wrist, guiding him aside.

“Alright, out. Wait for me. Don’t wreck my kitchen.” Her eyes sparkled with teasing.

His inability to cook was no surprise. Why would a man of his stature know his way around a kitchen?

Isabella washed the vegetables, then began chopping spices with practiced ease.

A slight smile touched Nathaniel’s lips as he watched her focused movements. She handled the knife skillfully, one hand steadying the chili, the other slicing precisely.

Dressed in fitted black attire, her figure was striking. She moved with the confidence of a warrior, though she was merely preparing a meal.

Everything she did radiated boldness and self-assurance. Nathaniel observed, captivated. Soon, prawns turned vibrant red in the sizzling wok. She plated them and carried the dish out.

Passing him, she paused. “Why are you just standing there? Get the utensils.”

No one spoke to him so bluntly. Yet, from her, it felt natural. He retrieved cutlery and followed her.

No.7

Isabella sat at the sleek dining table. She picked up a prawn and ate with unpretentious relish. Her manner was unrestrained yet not uncouth.

Though unaccustomed to late meals, Nathaniel joined her, drawn by her evident enjoyment.

The food was excellent. She continually amazed him. After a while, he set down his fork.

“The situation with Harrison Winslow… How are you managing it?”