Chapter 168
Half an hour, an hour, two hours...
Finally, dawn broke.
But the phone remained silent.
Michael slammed his fist on the table.
The others were startled by this.
Joseph sighed, "What are you doing? Are you taking it out on yourself? Let me bandage that for you."
If anything happened to Michael here, none of them would get away with it.
With one phone call, someone immediately brought a medical kit. Joseph didn't care about Michael's mood and bandaged the wound directly, then warned him again.
"Don't do anything rash. If you really like a woman, you should be patient and win her over slowly, not like this—rough and forceful. That will only push her further away..."
The nagging continued, but Michael couldn't hear a word of it.
Right now, he had only one thought: to go home. He needed to see what Isabella was doing.
He looked at his bandaged hand and stumbled out.
The private room erupted in commotion.
"Oh my god, what's going on? When did Michael become so devoted? Hurting himself over a woman—if Victor finds out about this, he definitely won't let Isabella off easily."
"We all saw how ruthless the Blackwood family was back then. They were in-laws, and even if they couldn't help, they shouldn't have been so merciless. Now things have come to this and he wants to fix it? Fat chance."
Everyone was talking, not too loudly, but Joseph heard every word clearly. He didn't argue though.
He knew these people only dared to talk behind closed doors. Once they left this room, they wouldn't dare say a word.
Meanwhile, Michael floored the gas pedal all the way home. When he opened the door and saw the person sleeping peacefully on the bed, his expression grew darker.
He strode over and grabbed Isabella's phone from the nightstand. When he saw the unread messages, he suddenly smiled.
Good, good—she hadn't seen them, not that she was ignoring them.
In an instant, Michael's mood brightened, and a smile tugged at his lips.
He walked to the bed, lifted the covers, slipped his whole body in, and pulled her into his arms.
The sleeping Isabella was startled awake. She opened her eyes suddenly, saw that familiar face, and frowned slightly.
He reeked of alcohol and was dirty all over. Why did he get into bed?
If this were before, she would have kicked him out immediately, but now she held back.
No choice—this was Michael's home, his bed. What right did she have to kick him out?
Isabella was awake, and Michael naturally noticed. He opened his sharp eyes, held her tighter, buried his head in her tender chest, and smiled.
"We need to prepare things for the outing with the kid, right? Clea is really looking forward to it."
He was looking forward to it too.
Since meeting Clea, Michael had discovered that Isabella really loved children.
He could almost imagine years from now, if they had a child together, taking the child on an outing—what a warm scene that would be.
Isabella froze for a moment, not moved at all, only alert.
Why would he suddenly mention Clea? Was he planning to do something to Eric?
Isabella blinked, and under her sleeve, she pinched her arm. The pain brought her back to her senses, "Actually, it's not necessary. If you're busy with work and don't have time, we can cancel. Clea is understanding, she won't be upset."
Sensing Isabella's change in attitude, Michael narrowed his eyes, "You're worried I'll hurt them?"
Isabella quickly shook her head, "Of course not. I just think I'm busy with work, so it's not necessary."
Michael said nothing, but his sharp eyes stared at her without blinking, as if trying to read something from her face.
He suddenly got up and walked into the bathroom.
Watching his angry back, Isabella quietly breathed a sigh of relief. She instinctively picked up her phone to check the time, but when she saw those photos in the chat, her heart trembled.
Staring at the intimate gestures in the photos, her heart ached, but she could accept it.
After all these years, it was normal for Michael to have other women around him. As someone with such strong physical needs, how could there be no one?
After thinking it over, to avoid unnecessary trouble, Isabella deleted those photos without a word, pretending she hadn't seen anything, and lay back down on the bed.
What Isabella didn't know was that her every move was being watched.
The sound of water came from the bathroom.
But Michael's body was completely dry. He sat alone on the side, staring at his phone's surveillance feed, watching Isabella open her phone, then casually delete the photos and lie down to sleep.
In an instant, his world spun.
She really didn't care at all.
Isabella had clearly seen the intimate photos of him with another woman, yet she could ignore them and even delete them.
Michael looked at the wound on his hand, his anger intensifying.
Time slowly passed.
Before he knew it, half an hour had gone by.
To avoid doing something wrong in a moment of impulse, he took a cold shower, got dressed, and returned to the room. The person on the bed was still sleeping. He strode over, yanked the covers off, and pulled her into his arms again.
Isabella looked displeased but said nothing, just forced herself to roll over and continue sleeping.
Michael deliberately placed his bandaged hand on Isabella's slender waist.
Maybe Isabella really cared about him—she would notice the bandage, open her eyes, and ask how he got injured.
He held his breath, nervously sensing everything around him, but besides the sound of even breathing, there was nothing.
His hand slowly clenched into a fist. A self-mocking smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, but the fury in his chest grew stronger.
Dawn came, sunlight streaming in, bathing the entire bed in light.
Michael suddenly pulled the sleeping Isabella up and into his arms.
In the spinning confusion, Isabella jolted awake and stared at those eyes, stunned.
"What are you doing? You scared me!"