"What exactly are you implying? Blind to what?" Ethan's expression darkened instantly.

Daniel remained silent, simply gesturing toward the door as he addressed Ethan and Sophia. "I need to attend to my patient now. Please wait outside."

"Why should I wait outside? Isabella is my wife," Ethan retorted, his confusion evident.

This wasn't the first time Daniel had come to treat Isabella, and he had never asked Ethan to leave them alone before.

Ethan eyed Daniel with sharp suspicion, his gaze piercing. "You've been spending considerable time with Isabella recently. Are you keeping secrets from me?"

Daniel felt his chest tighten, his gaze flickering momentarily.

He seriously questioned Ethan's capability as a father. Resolute, he was determined to protect Isabella's secret pregnancy from him.

Daniel steadied himself, drawing a deep breath to calm the turmoil within.

He lifted his eyes to meet Ethan's, delivering a sharp, pointed remark. "Mr. Blackwood, you're certainly free to enter. But are you absolutely sure you won't exacerbate the situation? If the patient refuses to cooperate and treatment becomes impossible, don't blame me afterwards."

Ethan's brows furrowed deeper, his eyes clouded with confusion and hesitation.

His lips pressed into a thin line, remaining silent.

Daniel didn't press further. Instead, he simply pushed open the master bedroom door and stepped aside with a slight, dismissive wave. "This is your house, your domain. Naturally, you may enter if you wish." He held Ethan's gaze steadily. "But any negative consequences will be entirely on you."

Ethan's jaw tightened, his expression hardening noticeably. He could sense the heavy implication behind Daniel's words.

Daniel's blunt honesty made Ethan second-guess his own suspicions.

His mind flashed back to that morning—Isabella refusing to open the door, her coldness testing his patience. A wave of frustration surged within him.

"Forget it," Ethan snapped, his voice laced with defiance and something unspoken. "I didn't want to go in anyway." He turned sharply to leave, but his steps lacked conviction. A slight hesitation betrayed his uncertainty.

Through the slightly ajar door, Isabella heard every word clearly.

She lay curled on the bed, her face ghostly pale, eyes staring vacantly into space.

She had long accepted that Ethan didn't care. Her heart, already numb, felt like it was being sliced anew, yet she felt nothing.

A bitter, self-mocking smile touched her lips, as if laughing at her own foolish past hopes.

Without a word, Daniel quietly closed the door, shutting out Ethan's final, wavering glance.

Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the soft, shallow rhythm of Isabella's breathing.

Daniel's footsteps were nearly soundless as he approached the bed. His eyes filled with concern as he studied Isabella's pale, motionless face. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, his voice low and careful.

Isabella remained silent, lying completely still like a hollow shell, a puppet with its strings severed.

Daniel released a quiet sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out to feel her forehead, his touch feather-light. "It's alright. The fever isn't too high."

But then, without any warning, Isabella stirred.

She shot up abruptly, her eyes wild, glinting with a desperate, frantic light.

Before Daniel could react, she seized his hand. Her fingers were ice-cold, but her grip was fierce and unrelenting.

Then, to his utter shock, Isabella slid off the bed and dropped to her knees with a heavy thud.