Chapter 74

Chapter 74
Isolde

I watched as Aiden shifted slightly, his steel-gray eyes focusing on Abigail with unnerving intensity. "Perhaps if you spent more time acknowledging others' accomplishments rather than diminishing them, you might discover that genuine respect can't be purchased alongside those—" he glanced at the garish decor "—interesting design choices."

Abigail looked taken aback by this unexpected defense from the striking man she had clearly been hoping to impress. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then reached for her wine glass with slightly trembling fingers.

"I didn't come here to discuss my career or my marriage," I said, steering the conversation back on track. "I came because there's something I need to know." I fixed my gaze on Robert. "I want to know about my birth parents."

The effect was immediate. Robert's face transformed, color draining before flooding back in a rush. His fingers tightened on the armrest of his chair so hard I heard the fabric creak.

"Why bring this up now?" he asked, voice strained. "After all these years?"

"Because I have a right to know," I replied simply. "Recent events have made me question things about myself—my heritage, my biology. I need answers."

Rachel leaned forward, suddenly interested. "What kind of recent events? Health issues?" The gleam in her eyes suggested she was hoping for something scandalous or debilitating.

I ignored her. "Robert?"

Abigail snorted. "Those people—" she began, but Robert cut her off with a sharp look.

"Abigail, not now."

"What?" I pressed, turning to my stepmother. "What about 'those people'?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," Robert said firmly, but there was a new tension in his shoulders. "They abandoned their responsibilities. That's all you need to know."

"That can't be the whole story," I insisted. "My mother never spoke ill of them. She kept a box of their belongings, treasured it."

"Your mother was a sentimental fool," Abigail muttered.

Dorian's hand found mine again, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on my palm. "Mr. Beck," he said, his tone deceptively mild, "your daughter has legitimate questions about her heritage. Surely after all this time, you can provide some information? Names, origins, anything?"

Robert's jaw tightened. "She's not—" He stopped himself, but the unfinished sentence hung in the air. Not my daughter.

The words stung, even though I'd known them to be true in his mind for years. Something in my expression must have betrayed my hurt, because Dorian's grip on my hand tightened.

"Mr. Beck," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "I suggest you consider your next words very carefully."

Robert seemed to shrink slightly under Dorian's gaze. "All I meant was that this isn't the appropriate time. The information you're seeking is... complicated. And frankly, it's ancient history."

"It's my history," I countered. "And it matters to me."

"Isolde, enough," Robert snapped. "You just need to know that your surname is Baker, and I raised you. That's all."

I gritted my teeth. Robert was obviously avoiding my questions. What was he hiding? Did he know about my background

Rachel, apparently bored with the tension, stood and smoothed her dress. "Well, this is all very dramatic, but I have final preparations for tomorrow." She looked pointedly at Dorian, then Aiden. "You're welcome to attend the engagement party, of course. Many important people from Crescent Bay will be there." Her eyes narrowed as they settled back on me. "It'll be interesting to see how your... husband... measures up in proper society."

I felt Dorian's barely contained anger beside me, his body rigid with restraint. I squeezed his hand in silent gratitude for his control.

"We'll consider it," I replied coolly, rising to my feet. "Thank you for your time, Robert."

As we made our way to the door, Abigail couldn't resist one last barb. "Do give our regards to your mother, Isolde. Though I doubt she'll know the difference, as she hasn't responded to stimuli for many years. Such a sad case."

I froze, rage bubbling up inside me. It wasn't just the cruelty of her words, but the utter falsehood—my mother had been showing promising responses to her new treatments.

Before I could respond, Dorian stepped slightly in front of me, his amber eyes flashing with dangerous intensity. The air around him seemed to shimmer with barely contained power.

"Mrs. Beck," he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl, "I suggest you choose your next words with extreme care. My wife's mother is making remarkable progress. She receives the finest care available—care that your family apparently decided wasn't worth providing."

Abigail blanched, taking an instinctive step back.

"Furthermore," Dorian continued, each word precise and cutting, "should you ever speak of her mother in such a manner again, I can assure you that my family's influence extends to areas that would deeply concern someone of your... social aspirations. Do I make myself clear?"

The atmosphere crackled with tension. For a moment, I wondered if Dorian might lose control right there in my stepfather's foyer. Robert had gone pale, clearly recognizing the thinly veiled threat from someone whose family connections far outstripped his own.

Instead of escalating, Dorian placed a guiding hand at the small of my back and led us out the door. The click of it closing behind us felt like a period at the end of a very uncomfortable sentence.

None of us spoke until we were back in the car, the mansion receding in the rearview mirror.

"Well," Elissa finally said, breaking the silence. "They're absolutely horrible. I'd like to bite them. Just a little. Not enough to turn them, obviously—we have standards—but enough to leave a scar."

Despite everything, I found myself laughing—a slightly hysterical sound that released some of the tension coiled in my chest. "Thank you for not doing that. The paperwork would be a nightmare."

"I was this close," she insisted, holding her thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. "Ask Aiden. He practically had to restrain me when that witch started talking about your mother."

"Robert's reaction to your biological parents is intriguing," Aiden remarked, ignoring his sister's dramatics. "Given what we know about your unique blood properties, it bears investigation."

"He was hiding something," Dorian said. "His heart rate spiked when you mentioned your birth parents. He knows more than he's saying."

"You could hear his heart?" I asked, momentarily distracted.

Dorian's lips curved in a slight smile. "Enhanced senses, remember? His heart was practically pounding out of his chest."

Aiden's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "You handled yourself admirably, Isolde. They were clearly trying to provoke you."

"They succeeded," I admitted, slumping against the seat. "I shouldn't have expected anything different. They've always been like this—especially Abigail."

"What I don't understand," Elissa said, leaning forward again, "is how Rachel managed to steal your boyfriend. I mean, have you seen you? And have you seen her? It's like comparing a diamond to a cubic zirconia."

I couldn't help but smile at her fierce loyalty. "Malcolm and I were never well-suited. He's ambitious in ways that align perfectly with Rachel. They deserve each other."