Chapter 75 MOLDOVAN'S HEIR

Chapter 75 MOLDOVAN'S HEIR
The Next Morning
Isabella stirred awake slowly, pressing her palm to her forehead—her fever had finally broken, though her body still felt weak.
She leaned against the headboard, her thoughts drifting back to the day she’d given Spade the divorce papers. The decision had torn at her heart, but she refused to force him to remember something his mind had let go of. More than that, she’d chosen this path to spare them both pain. It wasn’t about giving up on Spade—it was about doing what she believed was right for them, given his condition.
“I’ll wait for his memories to return,” she whispered to herself. “But if that day comes and he loves someone else… I have to be ready to accept it.”
“Alina will be sad, but I know my daughter will understand.”
Taking a deep breath, she started to sit up—when the bedroom door swung open, and Spade stepped inside carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and medicine.
Isabella hadn’t expected him. He set the tray on the bedside table and turned to look at her.
“It’s chicken soup—good for your stomach. I brought your medicine too. Are you still feeling unwell?” he asked. For a moment, Isabella let herself hope he’d remembered her… but she knew better.
“Just a little weak. Thank you for the soup.”
“I signed the divorce papers,” he said flatly. “I’ll handle giving them to my lawyer.”
The words stung, but Isabella forced a gentle smile. “Thank you.”
“Eat the soup first, then take your medicine,” he said as he stood to leave. But he paused, sighed heavily, and sat back down—then picked up the bowl as if to feed her.
Spade was confused. He’d barely slept the night before, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t make sense of.
“Let me feed you—so you can rest after,” he said, lifting the spoon toward her lips. But Isabella reached out and gently took the bowl from him, her smile warm.
“I can manage on my own—you don’t have to do this. Besides, I’m feeling better now. I need to leave soon to check on the old apartment Alina and I used to live in.”
“I’m not trying to keep you here,” Spade said—and the quiet sincerity in his voice made her smile.
“I know. But if we stay here any longer, it’ll only make things harder for you… and it’ll break my heart. It’s better if Alina and I go back to our old home.”
“You’re not fully recovered yet. Just stay a little longer,” he urged, but Isabella shook her head.
“I’ll be fine—Tristan is coming with me. Remember the man you saw with me two days ago? The one you thought was my lover? He’ll be there, so nothing will happen to me.”
As she began sipping the soup, Spade fell silent, his brow furrowing. The thought of her leaving with a man who clearly cared for her unsettled him more than he could say.
“I never wanted to forget you,” he said suddenly.
Isabella turned to look at him, her eyes soft with understanding.
“I know. And I understand your condition. Maybe you’re right—maybe my heart never truly touched yours. It hurts to think that might be the reason, but I have to accept it. If you find someone else… like the woman I saw with you that day… I’ll be sad, but I’ll be happy for you too.”
Just then, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She answered it without looking away from Spade.
“Hello? Tristan?”
“Why don’t I just pick you up at Vasile’s penthouse? You’re still recovering—let me come get you.”
“Thank you for worrying about me, but I feel fine. We can meet at the place I told you about—”
She never finished. In one swift motion, Spade reached over, took the phone from her hand, and ended the call.
Even as he did it, confusion crossed his face. Without a word, he stood and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Once outside, he pressed his hand to his head—there was a dull throb behind his temples, and he couldn’t explain why he’d acted so impulsively.
“What the fuck was that?”
He took a deep breath and started down the stairs, then froze. A black car had pulled up in front of the penthouse, and a woman was stepping out.
Spade walked toward her, and she looked up as he approached.
“I know—”
“Who are you?” he cut her off. The woman—Selena—stared at him, stunned.
“You’re asking me who I am?”
“I had surgery and lost my memories. Do I know you?”
“Ms. Selena?”
Both Spade and Selena turned to see Isabella descending the stairs. Without thinking, Spade moved to her side and steadied her as she walked.
“You shouldn’t push yourself if you’re not well enough,” he chided gently.
“Isabella, we need to talk,” Selena said. Isabella nodded, and the three went inside. They sat down in the living room, Spade hovering nearby—curiosity pulling at him.
“I have an idea why you’re here,” Isabella said quietly.
“Yes. But it seems Mr. Vasile has forgotten me entirely.”
“I told you—I have amnesia. How am I supposed to know you if I can’t remember anything?” Spade said sharply.
“He doesn’t remember me either,” Isabella added—and Spade felt a pang of guilt he couldn’t name.
“Are you okay with that?” Selena asked.
“I have to be. Can we get to the point, Ms. Selena?”
Selena set a brown envelope on the table. “I knew it the moment I saw you—you look just like my brother. When you fell in love with a Vasile… a man my father would never accept… I tried to hide it, to keep him from finding out. But I failed. Isabella—you’re one of us.”
Isabella took the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. Her hands stilled as she read the words on the page. Spade leaned in to look, and his eyes widened in shock.
“You’re really the missing granddaughter of Tudor Moldovan?!”
Even Isabella could barely believe the proof in her hands—that she carried Moldovan blood in her veins.
“You’re the Moldovan heir,” Selena continued. “My cousin.”
Spade whipped his head toward her. “You’re a Moldovan too?!”
“Now that my father knows you’re his granddaughter, he’ll come for you. I tried to keep this hidden, Isabella… but he won’t stop until he brings you home.”
“Just because you’ve proven I’m a Moldovan doesn’t mean I’ll go with you,” Isabella said firmly, standing up. Dizziness washed over her, but Spade caught her arm to steady her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m a Moldovan,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You hate this family—and it turns out I’m part of it. You should despise me, not ask if I’m alright.”
Spade had no words to answer her.
Selena stood as well. “I know this is hard to accept. But I know my father—even if you refuse, he’ll take you. He’s waited too long to find you. And if you go back to him… you’ll be the only one who can stop his plan to destroy the Vasiles all over again.”
“What?! Tudor Moldovan is planning to ruin us again?!” Spade’s voice was sharp with anger. Isabella sat frozen, the weight of Selena’s words settling over her.
“Think about it, Isabella. You can end the chaos my father—your grandfather—has brought to the Vasile family. You know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.”
With that, Selena left, leaving Spade and Isabella alone in the quiet room.
“After everything he did to us… that old man will never stop until he gets what he wants!” Spade snarled, his jaw tight with fury. He turned to Isabella, who was staring at nothing.
“What—”
“—I’m going back to my room,” she said, pulling her arm from his grasp. Even as dizziness clouded her vision, she made her way up the stairs, leaving Spade watching her go.
“She’s a Moldovan… but why can’t I feel any anger? Why do I only care that she’s not okay?” he muttered to himself, frustration burning in his chest.