Chapter 271

Lucas's chest felt like it was filled with shards of glass, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his shirt.

No. This isn't right.

Isabella.

I don't do things on a whim. My feelings for you aren't some fleeting infatuation. Does love that endures not count as love? Thirteen years ago, we faced death together. Thirteen years later, we did it again. We're bound by something unbreakable.

For the first time in his life, Lucas understood the agony of unspoken love. The suffocating weight of words trapped inside him, unable to escape.

But he stayed silent.

This wasn't the time to speak.

He needed to act.

Though Isabella's fever had broken, her body was still weak. Exhausted from the ordeal, she had fallen asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

But Lucas remained wide awake, watching her like a sentinel, his gaze unwavering.

Only when he was certain she was deep in slumber did he grit his teeth against the pain and rise from the bed, moving silently to the sofa.

He had intended to simply admire her peaceful expression, but the sight of her curled uncomfortably on the narrow couch made his chest tighten. Gently, he lifted her into his arms.

Her body was warm and pliant against his, her soft hair brushing his jaw. His palm grew damp where it cradled her, his pulse erratic.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, like a contented child nestling deeper into his embrace.

His throat went dry.

He wanted to kiss her.

His lips hovered dangerously close to hers—but he stopped himself.

He had thought he married a naive girl.

But she was a wildfire, burning through every defense he had.

The next morning, Isabella stretched luxuriously in bed, blinking awake.

She had slept surprisingly well.

Wait—

Her eyes snapped open.

She was in the bed.

What the hell?

Had she sleepwalked?

She threw off the covers, relieved to find her clothes undisturbed. The narrow single bed couldn't possibly have fit Lucas's imposing frame—and if it had, she would've felt it.

Speaking of which—

Lucas was gone.

Isabella punched the mattress with a frustrated growl.

Was that idiot running around with his injuries? Trying to get himself killed?

A knock sounded at the door.

"Isabella? You awake?"

Nathaniel's voice.

"Come in," she called, quickly smoothing her hair and moving to the sofa before he could get the wrong idea.

Nathaniel entered, balancing two sleek, high-end food containers in his hands.

"Sebastian and Oliver are on their way from Skyridge to Elmwood. They'll pick you up, have lunch, then Oliver heads back to Alderford."

Isabella rubbed her temples with a sigh.

She had worried her brothers again.

"What's that?" She nodded at the containers.

"Breakfast. Lucas had his assistant bring it." Nathaniel set them on the coffee table, his expression sour.

Outside the door, Preston sneezed. Who was bad-mouthing him?

Isabella frowned. "Where is Lucas?"

"Medical check-up."

She opened the container—and froze.

Inside was an array of Skyridge-style breakfast delicacies, each dish meticulously arranged, vibrant and fragrant.

And every single one was her favorite.

Her stomach growled.

"Apparently, Lucas sent someone to Skyridge at five in the morning to get this. The thermal lining kept it warm." Nathaniel unpacked the dishes robotically.

He knew Lucas was making his move.

And he hated it.

Isabella scoffed. "He's insane. Who asked him to do this?"

But she couldn't resist picking up a crystal shrimp dumpling and popping it into her mouth.

Nathaniel watched, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Good?"

A deep voice purred from the doorway.

Isabella choked.

The dumpling lodged in her throat.

She coughed violently, face flushing.

"Isabella!" Nathaniel rushed to pat her back.

Seeing another man's hands on her, Lucas's blood boiled.

Even knowing they were just friends, jealousy clawed at him.

His expression darkened as he strode forward—

But Isabella was already on her feet, storming toward him.

"What happened last night? Why was I in the bed?"

"I moved you. The sofa isn't comfortable."

His voice was low, intimate, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

"I didn't ask you to!"

"Everything I do for you is necessary." His gaze held hers, unyielding.

Especially those damn eyes—few women could resist them.

Isabella scoffed. "Dream on, Lucas. You can charm the world, but not me."

Her eyes flicked over him. Dark blue tailored suit. The tie and brooch she had given him.

Her pulse stuttered.

"Are you discharging yourself?"

"Yes."

"No, you're not cleared—"

"Will you stay with me until I am?"

His smirk was infuriating.

Isabella gaped. "Are you delusional?"

Had she been too nice to this bastard?

"I don't want to be trapped here. And I don't want to be without you."

The defiance in his eyes was new—almost boyish.

But the intensity behind it wasn't.

For a moment, Isabella was thrown off balance.

"Isabella!"

Sebastian and Oliver appeared in the doorway, resplendent in their military uniforms.

Relief flooded her. She ignored Lucas, rushing to her brothers.

Lucas's jaw tightened.

Even if they were family, he wouldn't lose to them.

But every man in Isabella's life was exceptional. Now a colonel brother stood between them.

"Isabella, are you alright?" Oliver gripped her shoulders, scanning her for injuries.

"I'm fine. Let's go."

She tried to pull him away, but Oliver held firm.

"Sebastian, Nathaniel, take Isabella ahead. I'll catch up."

"Isabella," Sebastian murmured, steering her toward the door with a meaningful glance at Lucas. "Oliver can handle himself."

Reluctantly, she let herself be led out.

Lucas's gaze followed her until the door shut.

Then he remembered—she hadn't eaten.

He moved toward the food—

A hand slammed down on the container.

Oliver's icy stare met his.

The air crackled with tension.

"She hasn't eaten. I'm taking this to her."

"I'd rather she starves than eats anything from you," Oliver sneered. "You think a few sweet words and breakfast can undo what you did? That my sister is some pet you can win over with treats?"

Lucas's jaw clenched. "I was wrong. But I'll spend the rest of my life making it right."

He reached for the container—

Oliver hurled it to the floor.

The delicate dishes shattered.

Lucas's heart splintered with them.

"Stay away from my sister," Oliver hissed, finger jabbing at Lucas's chest. "Or next time, it'll be you broken on the ground."

"I won't give up."

Lucas's eyes burned. "I love her. No matter what you do, that won't change."

Oliver laughed coldly. "You think we're the obstacle? Even if we stepped aside, Isabella would never go back to you. You drained every drop of love she had. Last night meant nothing—she'd do the same for anyone who saved her life. Stop deluding yourself."

Lucas's fists trembled.

He refused to believe that.

After everything—the confrontations, the pain, the realization—he knew his love was real.

But the fear gnawed at him.

What if Oliver was right?

What if he was too late?

Oliver turned to leave—then paused.

"Oh, and Isabella mentioned you were military once." His lip curled. "You're a disgrace to the uniform."

The door slammed.

Lucas stood amidst the wreckage, his heart in ruins.

But his resolve?

Unshaken.