Chapter 266

The usually defiant and rebellious Alexander Kingsley was uncharacteristically compliant, his movements as pliant as a fish on a griddle, flipping at the slightest touch.

Isabella Sinclair arched a brow at his sudden obedience, her rosy lips pressing into a thin line.

His broad, muscular back was exposed to her, every sinew and ridge clearly defined.

The sight of a massive bruise marring his skin made her pupils constrict. Despite her effort to remain composed, her heart twisted painfully. When Isabella fell silent, Alexander assumed she was shocked. He started to turn, only to be stopped by her firm grip.

"Stay still. Let me look," she commanded.

"The doctor said it'll fade," Alexander murmured, his voice low and soothing—as if he were comforting her, not discussing his own injuries.

"Do I look blind to you?" Isabella snapped, her tone sharp as ice.

Caught off guard, Alexander exhaled in exasperation. "I never realized how fiery you were when we were together. You've got bite. And guts."

"I used to pretend," she said, her long lashes casting shadows over her eyes as her fingers traced the scars on his back. Her voice was frigid. "I thought if I was gentle, if I pleased you, you'd eventually soften. But when I saw your true colors, I stopped. I didn’t need to pretend anymore. Looking back, I was a fool. Humiliating myself for a man who’d never love me. It wasn’t worth it."

Alexander’s breath hitched, bitterness coating his tongue. He’d been blind, consumed by his own insecurities.

"Isabella—"

"Turn around," she cut him off.

"The doctor already checked me."

"I don’t trust anyone else. Only myself. Turn around." Her voice was detached, her gaze reflecting a stoic acceptance of life and death.

Confused but obedient, Alexander complied.

Their eyes locked as he faced her.

Isabella’s pulse stuttered at the sight of his chiseled torso. The man was infuriating, but his physique was undeniably breathtaking.

Steeling herself, she began examining his legs, arms, and abdomen.

Alexander watched her, his heartbeat erratic as he studied the determination in her gaze.

At that moment, he needed to know.

"You’re lucky you have a soldier’s build. No serious injuries, but that bruise needs attention. My friend Seraphina’s family just developed a new topical treatment. I’ll get some sent over," Isabella said, her fingers lightly grazing his ribs.

Suddenly, his hand closed over hers, pressing her palm flat against his chest.

Isabella startled, her pulse skyrocketing. "What are you doing?"

His gaze burned into hers, his breathing uneven. "Don’t you need to check here too?"

"No. Let go!" She tried to pull away.

But Alexander was stronger, yanking her against him. Their bodies collided, heat radiating between them.

His uninjured arm banded around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Alexander—"

His lips crashed onto hers, swallowing her protest. The kiss was relentless, stealing her breath. A soft whimper escaped her, her nails digging into his skin, leaving faint marks.

Flustered, Isabella bit his lip in retaliation.

Alexander didn’t flinch. Instead, he hauled her closer.

The metallic tang of blood filled their mouths.

He didn’t release her until she was gasping for air.

Both were breathless, sweat glistening on their brows. Alexander’s lower lip was swollen from her bite.

"Just because you saved me doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want!" Isabella snapped, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving.

"You said it yourself," Alexander murmured, touching his injured lip. "You owe me a favor. And as long as it wasn’t too much, you’d comply."

"Isn’t this too much?" Her voice cracked. "When will you let me go? We’re divorced. You were the one who ended it!"

"Then I regret it." His voice was raw, his eyes damp. "I regret all of it."

Unlike Isabella, who could laugh freely, cry openly, live unapologetically—Alexander had spent over twenty years suppressing every emotion, every impulse. He’d forgotten how to feel.

"What did you say?" She stared at him, stunned.

"Isabella, I regret it," he repeated, his voice firm yet soft. "I regret divorcing you. I regret letting you go. Give me another chance. Let’s start over."

Start over? From where, Alexander? she thought bitterly. You don’t even know about the child we lost. You don’t know the pain of the last thirteen years. And yet you dare ask for a fresh start?

The light in her eyes dimmed, like a jewel smothered in dust.

Seeing her cold expression, Alexander’s heart clenched, his fervor cooling.

"Alexander, we’re over. Do you understand what that means? There’s no future for us."

Her eyes glistened, but her voice was merciless. "Between us, there was never even a spark, let alone a flame. From our marriage to our divorce, it was nothing but mistakes and misery. My father once told me—real love is smooth sailing from start to finish. The only reason we lasted three years was because I kept lowering my standards for you. What’s there to reminisce about? Start over? Have I lost my mind?"

Each word was a knife, carving into his chest.

Alexander wasn’t ready to lose her. He reached for her again.

This time, she evaded him effortlessly, leaving his hand grasping at air.

"I swear, I won’t—"

He took a shuddering breath, his voice hoarse. "I won’t repeat my mistakes, Isabella. This time, you don’t have to do a thing. Just stand there. Let me pursue you."

Her heart lurched violently, like a rollercoaster gone rogue.

Her palms were damp, her breathing uneven, her pulse erratic.

"Pursue me? Mr. Kingsley, didn’t you once call me a shameless schemer? I’m not some delicate flower like Camille. How could you possibly want me?"

Her lips curled in disdain. "Besides, the Isabella you see now isn’t the naive girl you manipulated. Plenty of men are lining up to court me. Do you really think a blacklisted bastard like you stands a chance?"

"Isabella, I—"

"Stop. I don’t want to hear it."

She clapped her hands over her ears, spinning on her heel and striding toward the door. "I’ll chalk up everything you said today to concussion-induced delirium. I’m treating your injuries because I don’t owe you anything. Once you’re healed, we go our separate ways!"

The door slammed shut behind her.

Alexander’s eyes burned crimson, his outstretched hand trembling mid-air before dropping limply to his side.

"I’ve truly fallen for you," he whispered.

Isabella didn’t return to Alexander. Instead, she sought out Gordon for his medical reports, intending to study them thoroughly at home.

Her preliminary examination had revealed the severity of his injuries. If not treated properly, they could lead to serious complications.

The Rolls-Royce glided toward Skyrim.

Jason drove while Preston sat shotgun. In the back, Sebastian held Isabella close, her arms full of Alexander’s medical records and X-rays. She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing heavily.

Her mood was visibly somber.

"What’s wrong, Isabella? You seem upset," Sebastian murmured, gently brushing her cheek.

"Is it because Kingsley’s condition is bad?"

Preston twisted in his seat. "If that bastard’s hurt, it’s good news. Why the long face?"

Isabella remained silent.

"Preston, have you forgotten what kind of person our sister is?" Sebastian chided. "Gracious and kind-hearted. Alexander got hurt saving her. If anything happens to him, how could she live with herself?"

Preston scowled but held his tongue.

"His injuries are serious, but he was treated in time. He’s not in danger," Isabella finally said softly.

"Well, that’s good," Sebastian replied, puzzled. "Then why are you still upset?"

Isabella hesitated. "It’s nothing major. It’s just... Alexander said he wants to pursue me."