Chapter 78

Chapter 78
Isolde

The waltz ended just as my family approached, their expressions a calculated mix of surprise and disdain. I felt Dorian's hand tighten protectively around my waist as we turned to face them.

Malcolm Pratt stood beside Rachel, his arm possessively wrapped around her waist. The sight of them together still stung, but not nearly as much as I'd expected. Malcolm's eyes widened at the sight of me, quickly masking his surprise with an exaggerated smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, if it isn't our star doctor!" he exclaimed, stepping forward with theatrical enthusiasm. His gaze flickered from me to Dorian, then to Elissa and Aiden who had materialized at our side. "Isolde Beck! It's been too long."

I maintained my composure, offering a polite smile. "It's Hawke now, actually. Isolde Hawke."

Malcolm's smile faltered momentarily. "Yes, I heard about that. Quite sudden, wasn't it?" He let out a forced chuckle. "I must say, I'm surprised. After our breakup, I didn't expect you'd find someone else so quickly."

The condescension in his tone made my blood simmer, but I kept my expression neutral. Dorian shifted beside me, his body language screaming protective fury, but I placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"I was equally surprised when you moved on to my stepsister so quickly," I replied smoothly. "Though I suppose you've always had a talent for recognizing... opportunities."

Malcolm's face flushed red, and Rachel's smug expression soured. Abigail cleared her throat uncomfortably while my father looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Isolde," my father finally spoke, his voice strained with forced politeness. "You should have told us you were coming."

"I did tell you, yesterday," I reminded him. "When you so kindly invited us to Rachel's engagement party."

Elissa suppressed a snort beside me, earning a sharp look from Aiden.

"And these are your... friends?" Abigail asked, her gaze lingering disapprovingly on Elissa's vibrant burgundy dress.

"This is Elissa Stone and her brother Aiden," I introduced them.

"Congratulations on the marriage," Malcolm said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "I do hope it lasts. Isolde has always been so... devoted to her career. I found it quite challenging to compete with all those late-night shifts at the hospital."

"I don't find it challenging at all," Dorian replied smoothly, his amber eyes gleaming dangerously. "In fact, her dedication is one of the many qualities I admire about my wife."

The possessive way he said "my wife" sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.

"How did you two meet?" Rachel interjected, her tone falsely sweet. "Isolde never mentioned dating anyone, let alone someone so... prominent."

Before I could respond, Elissa jumped in. "Oh, it's the most romantic story! They met when Dorian was brought into the ER with a nasty injury. Love at first sight, wasn't it?" She winked at me conspiratorially.

"Something like that," I agreed, grateful for her intervention.

"How... unconventional," Abigail remarked with a thin smile. "Though I suppose conventional has never been Isolde's strong suit."

"Indeed not," Dorian agreed, surprising everyone. "Conventional people rarely change the world, do they? And Isolde has already saved more lives than most people will in a lifetime."

His genuine pride in me caught me off guard, and I felt a warm flush creep up my neck.

Malcolm cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being sidelined. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order for both couples then. Rachel and I are planning a June wedding. I'm sure you'll receive an invitation... if you're still together by then."

"How thoughtful," I replied dryly. "Though I'm afraid we might be traveling then. Dorian has properties all over the world, and we do love exploring them together."

Rachel's face contorted with barely concealed jealousy. "Properties? How many exactly?"

"I've lost count," Dorian said casually, as though discussing the weather. "Though the estate in the French countryside is Isolde's favorite, isn't it, darling?"

I nodded, playing along. "The vineyard is particularly beautiful in June."

My father, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, stepped forward. "Isolde, may I speak with you privately for a moment?"

I hesitated, not wanting to leave the safety of my companions. Dorian sensed my reluctance.

"Whatever you need to say to my wife, you can say in front of me," he stated firmly.

My father's jaw clenched. "Fine. I wanted to discuss your mother's medical care. The facility you've arranged—"

"Is exceptional," I cut him off. "Her treatment is progressing well, and she has the best care possible now."

"Yes, but how exactly are you affording it?" he pressed, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "That facility costs a fortune per month."

"That's none of your concern," I replied coolly.

"It is if you've made some kind of arrangement with your... husband here," he nearly spat the word. "What exactly did he promise you in exchange for—"

"I'd be very careful about finishing that sentence," Dorian interrupted, his voice dangerously soft.

"Robert," Abigail hissed, tugging on his sleeve. People nearby were beginning to stare.

"I'm simply concerned about my ex-wife's welfare," my father insisted. "And about what Isolde might have gotten herself into."

"Your concern is about three years too late," I said quietly. "Where was this worry when you moved her to that understaffed facility? Or when you threatened to cut off her funding entirely?"

My father's face reddened, and I could see Malcolm whispering something to Rachel, both watching the unfolding drama with barely concealed glee.

"You know nothing about our financial situation—" my father began.

"I know enough," I interrupted. "I know you chose your new family over the woman who supported you for twenty years."

"At least she's your real mother," Rachel scoffed, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. "Unlike you, some orphan my dad picked up from Memorial Hospital as a charity case."

A hushed silence fell over our little group. Even Malcolm looked uncomfortable at Rachel's outburst.

"Rachel," my father warned, too late.

I felt as though I'd been doused in ice water. "Memorial Hospital?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rachel, realizing she'd said too much but unwilling to back down, lifted her chin defiantly. "That's right. You were just some abandoned baby at Memorial. Mom and Dad could have chosen anyone."

"That's enough," Dorian's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

I barely registered his words, my mind racing. Memorial Hospital. The same hospital where my mother had been transferred from.

My father's expression was a mixture of anger and resignation. I'd always known I was adopted—that wasn't the shock. But Memorial Hospital... that was a piece of information I'd never had before. A potential link to my biological parents, and perhaps to the mystery of my unusual blood.