Chapter 402
No.1
She remembered throwing her bathrobe at Nathaniel.
It had been soaked through with muddy rainwater from his drenched form.
The garment was now soiled beyond use.
Only a single towel remained in the bathroom.
She had no clean underwear either.
A wave of frustration washed over her.
Then she recalled Nathaniel's words before he left.
She could call him whenever she needed assistance.
Well, she certainly needed help now.
Wrapping the towel tightly around herself, she approached the door.
"Nathaniel?" she called out softly. "Has the clothing arrived yet?"
"Yes," his voice responded immediately. "Open the door."
She cracked the door open just enough to create a narrow slit.
The towel provided inadequate coverage, leaving too much exposed.
Nathaniel didn't comment on the limited opening.
No.2
He passed each garment through the narrow space one by one.
Silk pajamas, lace bra, delicate underwear...
She accepted the pajamas without much thought.
But her eyebrows rose when he handed her the intimate items.
He was handling her personal garments so casually?
She should have opened the door wider and had everything passed together.
This felt incredibly awkward.
She reached out quickly to grab the remaining items.
In her haste, the bra and underwear slipped from her grasp.
They tumbled to the floor, unfolding as they landed.
Both froze in stunned silence.
They moved simultaneously to retrieve the fallen garments.
Their hands collided in the process.
Nathaniel looked up sharply, his eyes widening.
She followed his gaze and felt heat flood her cheeks.
No.3
He was staring right at her exposed form!
She straightened abruptly and shoved him backward.
"Pervert!"
She slammed the door shut with considerable force.
Nathaniel stood speechless outside.
No one had ever dared call him that before.
This marked the second time tonight she had used that term.
Pervert?
He could show her what a real pervert looked like.
Isabella dressed hurriedly and emerged moments later.
"Go take your bath," she commanded sharply. "And wash your eyes while you're at it."
Nathaniel turned a calm gaze toward her.
Her damp hair cascaded down her back.
The red lace nightgown clung to her alluring curves.
Though he maintained his composure, the image of the fallen underwear remained vivid in his mind.
No.4
Isabella noticed the intense gleam in Nathaniel’s gaze.
It sent an uneasy shiver down her spine.
She stepped aside and leaned against the wall to clear his path.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Why are you still standing there? You’re soaked.”
Nathaniel glanced down at his rain-drenched clothes.
Right. He needed to get clean.
He needed to feel comfortable again.
As he moved past, his shoulder brushed lightly against hers.
The contact was brief but electric.
Isabella released a quiet breath once he entered the bathroom.
His presence always made the air feel heavy.
Oppressive.
Now the room felt lighter. Freer.
But then that odd sense of familiarity returned.
The plush carpet. The large bed. The silken sheets…
No.5
Everything felt strangely known.
Frowning, she walked to the bedside.
Her fingers trailed over the expensive fabric.
It felt new, clearly replaced often by the hotel.
Yet it stirred something deep in her memory.
Unable to resist, she sat on the edge of the mattress.
She leaned back slowly, letting the sensation wash over her.
Images flickered behind her closed eyelids—swift and elusive.
She couldn’t grasp any of them.
The whole room seemed to pulse with a haunting sense of déjà vu.
Even the air carried a scent she almost recognized.
It was unsettling.
Exhausted and puzzled, she eventually drifted into sleep.
Nathaniel emerged from the shower refreshed.
He found Isabella curled on her side, asleep but restless.
No.6
Her brow was furrowed. Her expression tense.
He felt a pang of concern.
Quietly, he moved closer.
After switching off the lights, he paused beside the bed.
He knew better than to wake her—she slept like a soldier.
Alert. Ready.
So he lay down gently beside her, careful not to disturb.
And as he settled, memories of five years ago flooded back.
That night. That woman.
The darkness. The desperate fight against the drugs in his system.
He never reacted to women. Not like that.
But her… that stranger… he couldn’t forget.
He never saw her face, but he knew one thing—he would marry her.
But when morning came, she was gone.
Vanished without a trace.
No.7
His eyes drifted toward Isabella’s sleeping form.
How perfect it would be if she were that woman.
But life wasn’t that kind.
Isabella slept fitfully.
Dreams coiled around her like snakes.
A familiar pressure returned—one she hadn’t felt in years.
She woke with a start, heart racing.
Dawn light seeped through the windows.
Just a dream. Only a dream.
Thankfully, the worst was over.
Her phone lit up on the nightstand.
She picked it up.
It was a call from Beatrice Worthington.
Isabella Montgomery answered the call. Gloria's panicked voice immediately filled her ear. "This is a disaster, Isabella! We were so focused on Arabella that we missed the bigger problem. Hayley Waltz, the co-lead for the event, has been hospitalized with acute nephritis!"