Chapter 294

The entire villa was pristine, every piece of furniture untouched. It was obvious Alexander had just moved in.

The interior design was sleek and modern, dominated by a monochrome palette—black, white, and gray. Isabella immediately recognized the high-end brands of the furnishings, a quiet testament to wealth.

As she stepped inside, an inexplicable chill ran down her spine, making her shiver slightly.

It wasn’t the temperature. The emptiness of the space, paired with the stark colors, created an almost clinical atmosphere.

"Isabella, are you cold?"

Alexander retrieved a pair of plush white slippers from the shoe cabinet, kneeling on one knee to offer them to her. "Put these on. I’ll turn up the heat."

She blinked, slipping her delicate feet into the warm slippers.

They were soft.

Perfectly sized, as if made just for her.

"Mr. Kingsley, welcome home," greeted Margaret, their longtime housekeeper, with a warm smile.

"Isabella, this is Margaret," Alexander introduced.

"Oh, I know! This must be Ms. Isabella, the one you’ve been waiting for!" Margaret beamed, studying Isabella with admiration. "You’re absolutely stunning. More beautiful than any pageant queen I’ve ever seen!"

Isabella flushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Margaret."

"Come in, it’s freezing outside. Mrs. Kingsley is waiting for you!"

Margaret led them to the living room, glancing back at them with increasing delight. The more she looked, the more she saw how perfectly matched they were.

A flicker of unease settled in Isabella’s chest.

Her memories of Mrs. Kingsley were hazy.

As a child visiting the Kingsley estate, Mr. Kingsley had always greeted them, while his wife rarely appeared. From the few encounters, Isabella remembered her as gentle and kind.

"Mother!"

At Alexander’s call, the middle-aged woman wrapped in a camel-colored blanket turned her wheelchair around.

Isabella’s heart clenched.

Mrs. Kingsley was around the same age as her own mother, yet she looked frail, her hair streaked with silver.

"My son! You’re home!"

Mrs. Kingsley’s face lit up with joy. Despite her age, her smile held traces of the beauty she once possessed.

Alexander strode forward and embraced her. "Mother, Ms. Isabella is here to see you."

"Is it really Isabella? My dear, come closer!"

Mrs. Kingsley’s eyes sparkled with childlike excitement, brimming with affection. "Margaret, quickly!"

"Yes, ma’am!"

"Bring some juice and candies for Isabella!"

"Right away!"

Margaret hurriedly scooped a handful of colorful candies from an ornate box on the coffee table, offering them eagerly. "Ms. Isabella, please have some!"

Isabella hesitated before accepting them.

She hadn’t expected such a warm, nostalgic welcome.

"Alex, you should invite your friends over more often! I don’t mind—I just worry you’ll be lonely," Mrs. Kingsley said, her gaze filled with maternal concern.

Isabella’s eyes widened as she glanced at Alexander.

"Don’t worry, Mother. With Isabella here, I’m never alone."

A shadow of sadness flickered in Alexander’s eyes as he gently patted his mother’s back. "Even if everyone else leaves, she’ll always stay by my side."

"That’s wonderful! Isabella, you must visit us often!" Mrs. Kingsley’s expression softened as she looked at Isabella, as if she still saw the little girl from years ago.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kingsley."

Touched, Isabella knelt before her, her face radiant with a warm smile. "Don’t worry. Alexander will never be lonely as long as I’m his friend."

Alexander removed his suit jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt and gray vest that accentuated his lean frame. He exuded effortless elegance as he headed toward the kitchen.

Though a guest, Isabella couldn’t let him cook alone.

She followed.

"Let me help. Without a chef, this will take forever." She surveyed the premium ingredients spread across the counter and rolled up her sleeves.

"It’s fine. Everything’s prepped. Seafood cooks quickly."

Then his expression softened with concern. "Isabella, I remember you’re allergic to smoke. The kitchen might get smoky. Why don’t you stay with Mother?"

She froze. "How did you know?"

"Years ago, when your father brought you to our house, my brother wanted a barbecue. The smoke started billowing, and your father rushed you away, saying you couldn’t tolerate it. I’ve never forgotten how frantic he was—like it was a life-or-death situation."

Alexander chuckled. "He adored you."

Isabella stared at him, an overwhelming sorrow tightening her throat.

She fought back tears, but they glistened in her eyes anyway.

For three years, she had lived with Nathaniel. Cooked for him. And he’d never noticed.

Yet Alexander remembered a moment from over a decade ago.

"It’s fine. I’ll help."

She stood beside him at the sink, her head bowed as she deftly prepped the ingredients.

Alexander’s gaze darkened. He subtly stepped closer.

"Isabella, thank you."

"For dinner? You’re the one hosting."

"No." His voice was low, rough with emotion. "For indulging me. My mother… her memory fades. Sometimes she doesn’t recognize me. Sometimes she thinks I’m still a child."

"I understand. It’s part of her condition."

"I’m grateful you played along to make her happy."

They turned at the same time, their foreheads brushing accidentally.

A pause. Then laughter.

Inside, the villa was warm, alive with joy.

Outside, the winter wind howled.

Nathaniel stood motionless in the cold, his gaze fixed on the glowing windows.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there. Or how much longer he’d stay.

Only one thought consumed him.

He would wait.

She would come out.

Wouldn’t she?

A sudden chill kissed his face, seeping into his bones.

He looked up.

Snowflakes drifted down, melting against his skin.

The first snow of the season.

Isabella, if we share this snowfall, it’s like growing old together.

I want to share this with you.

His breath fogged in the air as he pulled out his phone and dialed her number.