Isabella straightened, offering a grateful nod. “Understood, Ms. Sterling. You should rest as well.”

The butler guided Isabella to the entrance, then held the car door open for her with practiced grace.

She slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and drove slowly away from Silverwood Estate. The night was deep and quiet, but Hawthorne Residence glowed with light. Pushing the front door open, she rubbed her tired temples. She stopped dead, shocked by the scene before her.

In the living room, Eleanor sat calmly on the sofa, peeling an apple. “Grandma? What are you doing here?” Isabella’s gaze snapped to Henry, who stood nearby. “What’s going on?”

Before Henry could answer, Eleanor offered a warm, knowing smile. “Isabella, I was discharged today. I ran into Ethan. He mentioned your worries about me, so he brought me here to recover.” She handed the peeled apple to Isabella, her eyes searching. “Isabella, what exactly is your relationship with Ethan?”

Taking the apple felt like holding a hot coal. She took a bite, but the sweetness did nothing to ease the bitter ache inside.

“He’s… just my boss,” Isabella stammered, avoiding Eleanor’s penetrating stare.

“Your boss?” Eleanor sounded skeptical, neatly tossing the apple core away. “Why would your boss bring me to his home? Why show such concern for you?”

Isabella struggled for words. She couldn’t tell Eleanor that Ethan was once her husband. That he now felt like a stranger. That he seemed to enjoy complicating her life.

“Isabella,” Eleanor continued gently, setting down the fruit knife. “I’m old. My only wish is for you to find happiness with someone good. Ethan seems kind. He’s driven, successful, and he genuinely cares for you.”

“Grandma, it’s not what you think,” Isabella cut in, her voice urgent. “There’s really nothing between us.”

“Then why is he so concerned?” Eleanor gestured to the fresh flowers and fruit on the table. “He had these sent over for you.”

Isabella looked at the vibrant blooms, her emotions a tangled mess of confusion and frustration.

Ethan’s gestures had created this misunderstanding.

“Grandma, you really have the wrong idea…” Isabella murmured, her voice fading.

Eleanor sighed and patted her hand. “Isabella, I know you have your reasons. But love can’t be forced. If you truly have no feelings for him, I won’t pressure you.”

Isabella fell silent, staring at the apple in her hand.

“Alright, I’ll say no more,” Eleanor declared, lightening the mood. “You look exhausted. Go get some rest.”

Without another word, Isabella left the living room and retreated to her bedroom. She closed the door, leaned against it, and slid to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

She couldn’t understand Ethan’s motives. Why bring Eleanor here? Why show such concern? Was it punishment for her leaving years ago?

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting slim beams on the floor. Sleep had evaded her; dark circles shadowed her eyes. The digital clock on her nightstand glowed 6:37.