Chapter 855 Going Home

Chapter 855 Going Home

Truth be told, Michael was genuinely pleased to see Isabella and Stella getting along. 

He had witnessed every one of Stella's past mistakes, but back then, his feelings for Isabella had been uncertain, so he had tolerated them. 

Looking back, he knew he had been an accomplice in making Isabella suffer.

At one point, he had even considered apologizing to her on Stella's behalf. If she refused to forgive, he would have simply moved out with her, leaving the Brown Villa behind. He could return there alone; she would never have to set foot in it again.

What he hadn't expected was how much Stella had changed after Aiden's death. 

She no longer spent her days shopping or at the spa. Instead, she quietly took up the responsibilities of the Brown Family's matriarch. 

She had been quick to admit her guilt toward Isabella, making it clear she wanted to make amends. Words were worthless now — both she and Michael knew that — so they had agreed to use actions instead.

When Michael and Isabella had their abrupt, painful breakup, Stella had only expressed mild regret. She knew her place and didn't interfere. 

Later, when Michael fell ill, Stella had sensed something was wrong. She knew his mental state was tied to Isabella, but she simply urged him to follow the doctor's advice and not give up. After all, he still carried the weight of the Brown Group — Aiden's life's work and the foundation of the family.

After Auroria, when Stella learned he had successfully proposed to Isabella, she had been overjoyed. 

She had ordered their wedding apartment in the city to be cleaned from top to bottom, insisting they live there instead of the Brown Villa. 

She thought they would be freer that way. But she had also made Michael promise not to tell Isabella. She didn't want Isabella to feel any unspoken pressure, especially in their relationship as mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. 

Stella's first half of life had been full of mistakes; the second half, she wanted to spend making amends.

So when Michael teased Isabella now, Stella's patience snapped. If she hadn't been holding Michelle, she might have smacked her son. 

Couldn't he see Isabella didn't want to talk about it? Why keep pressing?

"I only said the wrong thing by accident," Stella cut in, her voice firm. "Now that I know, I won't bring it up again. Besides, we were talking about women's matters. How is Isabella supposed to explain that to you here? If you're so curious, ask her tonight at home."

That last word — home — made Michael pause. 

She was right. Tonight, they would finally go back to their own place. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through him. 

Leaning close to Isabella, he murmured, "I've set up a surprise at home. Wait until you see it."

Isabella blinked, about to ask what he meant, but he was already walking away. She watched his tall figure cut through the crowd, his expression shifting back to its usual cool detachment. She sighed inwardly. 

This past month, they had spent more time apart than together. They had only remarried two months ago, after eight long months of separation. His eagerness to take her home was understandable.

The banquet lasted until late afternoon. After seeing off the last guests, Isabella joined Michael and her uncles for a drive back to the Wilson Villa. 

Michelle's things were still there, and she wanted to thank her uncles properly before leaving. They had cared for her and Michelle for a month, and she didn't want to slip away without a word, leaving the house feeling emptier than it already would.

In the car, Michael and Isabella sat in the backseat. Michelle, worn out from playing, slept in Isabella's arms. 

Michael glanced at her, then said suddenly, "Let's bring Cinda with us this time. I bought a place near home. She can help during the day, and at night we'll take care of Michelle ourselves."

He had thought it through. During the day, he would be working, and Isabella still needed to recover; caring for a baby full-time would drain her. At night, he could handle feedings so that Michelle wouldn't be separated from Isabella, and Isabella could sleep without worry.

Isabella agreed to the first part — Cinda had been helping her with Michelle since the beginning, and she trusted her. But the second part made her pause.

"Take care of her ourselves?" she asked, frowning slightly. "You mean… have Michelle sleep with us?"

Michael nodded without hesitation. "Of course. She's so little. I wouldn't feel right if she wasn't with us."

Isabella pressed her lips together. "She'll keep you up. The doctor said your rest is important. If you don't sleep well, it'll affect your mood and your condition during the day."

She hadn't forgotten that his illness wasn't fully under control yet.

But Michael brushed it off. "It won't. Bella, believe me — I sleep best when you and Michelle are with me. My illness is rooted in separation anxiety from you. This last episode happened because we were apart too long. If you're with me, it won't happen again."

Isabella shot him a look, caught between exasperation and amusement. "Michael, are you seriously trying to guilt‑trip me with your so‑called weakness? I didn't throw it in your face when you talked about divorce. And now, just because I broke up with you once, you're acting like the world's ending? Is that really all the resilience the great heir to the Brown Group has?"

Michael's mouth curved into a slow smile. Sliding an arm around her waist, he leaned in and murmured, "The heir to the Brown Group can handle anything. But the man—me—can't handle losing you. So, Bella, don't ever talk about leaving me again. I might not survive it. Michelle and I… we can't live without you."

His words sank into her ears like heat, quickening her heartbeat. She wanted to push him away but didn't dare wake Michelle, so she shot him a glare instead. "Don't push your luck. We weren't together before, and you seemed to be doing just fine."

His arm tightened, pulling her closer. His voice was low, edged with a teasing laugh. "Jealous, honey?"

"You know exactly what kind of life I was living then," he murmured. "Everything I did was to gather evidence. You know I never cared for anyone else. If you don't believe me, ask Aaron. He'll tell you himself — you've been the only one in my heart from the very beginning."