Chapter 25 ADRAIN’S BROTHER.

Chapter 25 ADRAIN’S BROTHER.
Isabel’s POV.

I was dressed in a  deep emerald gown , a color that my mother always said looked good on me.

The dining room of my childhood home was exactly as I remembered it: vast, dimly lit by a crystal chandelier that cast too many shadows, and oppressively quiet. Every meal here felt less like a chance to eat and more like a performance designed to impress my mother’s impossible standards.

Adrian, my husband, and Damien were already seated. My mother, Elara, sat at the head of the table, my brother or father no where to be seen but I didn't dare ask.

My husband was stiff, clearly uncomfortable  but Damien… Damien was Damien.

He met my eyes as I took my seat, and in that fleeting moment, all the chaotic rush of the afternoon, Adrian’s devastating confession flashed between us. 

It was a silent conversation, a quick check-in: Are you alright? Yes. Are we safe? For now.

Adrian, bless his heart, was attempting to be the perfect gentleman he had resolved to be. He was respectful, attentive, and spoke with measured enthusiasm about the company carefully avoiding any topic that might lead to a quarrel.

“Mother, did you know that the latest projections show a twenty-percent increase in our grain surplus this year?” Adrian asked, directing the conversation toward something  safe.

My mother offered a small, thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I would hope so, Adrian. It is what we expect. Your brother maintained much higher yields with half the effort.” 

The atmosphere was stifling. My husband ate quietly, after that.  I tried to focus on the for isbut my peripheral vision kept dragging me back to Damien. He was quiet, too, observing the room with an  detachment that I knew concealed a tightly wound tension. He was waiting for the escape, just as I was.

The memory of Adrian’s sincere admission just hours earlier kept ringing in my ears, Every time Adrian spoke, I felt a fresh wave of guilt mixed with a profound sense of wrongness. It was a cruel irony: he was trying to deserve me, while I was already giving my heart to his brother.

After what felt like an eternity—the Andrain was talking again. I seized the opportunity.

“Mother,” I said, setting my fork down delicately. “I just remembered something. Mr sterling sent over a set of documents to look through. Damien, weren’t you supposed to approve it? Would you mind coming with me? I need to send it to him as soon as possible.

It was weak, but it was a perfect excuse.

My mother raised a perfectly drawn eyebrow. “The documents couldn’t wait until the morning, Isabel? We are having dinner.”

“They are time-sensitive, Mother,” I lied, meeting her gaze. “ It will only take a moment.”

Adrian, perhaps sensing my need for a reprieve from the rigid atmosphere, quickly jumped in. “Go on, Isabel. Damien, make sure everything Is in order.”

Damien nodded once, “Of course, Adrian. We’ll be quick.”

We escaped. Stepping out of the dining room and into the dimly lit,  hall felt like shedding a lead cloak. The air was breathable again.

We walked quickly, the sound of our steps muffled by the thick rugs. We didn’t speak until we reached the end of the  corridor, turning down my room.

My old bedroom door was  exactly the same.

I pushed the door open, and a wave of memory hit me. The room was untouched, maintained exactly as it had been when I was nineteen and still dreaming of escape. The walls were a pale blue I had picked out myself, the shelves were still lined with my old, worn books, and the desk, always  neat, sat in the corner. It was a perfect, preserved version of my past self.

I walked over to the tall window, peering out at the  gardens. I hadn’t realized until now how much I resented this place.

“It’s depressing, isn’t it?” I whispered, turning back to Damien.

He closed the door softly, leaning his back against it, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at the room, then at me. “It’s very… Elara.”

I laughed, a short, humorless sound. “Exactly. Everything had to be perfect,  and precisely where it belonged. Nothing out of place. Nothing allowed to be messy or loud. Nothing allowed to be felt.”

I gestured around the room. “Look at this room, Damien. It looks like the room of a quiet, studious girl who never threw a fit, never stayed up past midnight, and certainly always dreamed of running away. Growing up under my mother’s gaze was like living inside a glass case. Beautiful, visible to everyone, but completely cut off and impossible to truly touch.”

I walked to the desk, picking up a silver pen I hadn’t used in years. “I think that’s why I was able to accept the marriage contract. It was the only way out she approved of. I was trading one perfectly maintained glass case for a slightly larger, more public one.”

Damien pushed off the door, moving toward me. He didn’t try to touch me, but his presence was enough to comfort me.

“You’re not in a glass case anymore, Isabel,” he said, his voice low. “ou’re messy and complicated and demanding, and you challenge every things I thought I knew. That’s the Isabel I know”

The sincerity of his words made my eyes sting. It was the first time anyone had validated the part of me that I usually spent all my energy suppressing.

“And what about Adrian?” I asked, finally voicing the heavy question that had been pressing on both our minds. I put the pen down. “He was so honest, Damien. I heard it in his voice. he wants to step back, to earn me. He’s going to start courting me properly, the way he thinks I  deserves. How do we navigate that? How do we keep this”—I waved my hand  between us—“from him? “

Damien’s expression darkened “This is the worst possible complication. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t care. But he’s my brother. I spent yesterday night feeling like a hypocrite, standing guard over you while he poured his heart out”

“You still won’t let me go?” I insisted, taking a step toward him. 

“I won’t” he agreed, his gaze locked on mine. “The truth is, he is dangerous now, not because he is angry, but because he is trying to be good. Trying to be what you need. That’s much harder to fight.”

He paused, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I will figure something out”

He closed the final distance between us and pulled me into a  sudden embrace. 

His hug was soothing against the anxiety churning in my stomach. I clung to him, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him, letting his solid presence ground me.

In that quiet moment, with my cheek pressed against the rough fabric of his shoulder, the door swung open.

“Isabel?” My mother’s voice was  cutting.

We sprang apart instantly.

My mother stood by the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. Her face was expressionless, which was worse than any anger. She simply took in the scene: me, flustered, smoothing down my dress; Damien, looking perfectly composed but with a  tightness around his jaw; and the proximity that was just too close for an innocent discussion of documents.

“I came to see if you were done. Dinner is getting cold”

Damien was  fast. 

“We just finished, Elara.”

He offered a nod to me “Good work, Isabel”

He looked at me ome last time and left.

My mother didn’t move. She kept her gaze fixed on the spot where Damien had stood, and then slowly turned her attention back to me. 

“It was alot of work, mother?”

She didn't respond to the lie. She simply walked fully into the room, closing the door behind her.

She looked around the room—the untouched bed, the clean desk, as if checking that the room itself hadn't been violated.

Then, she looked back at me, her expression finally shifting.

“Isabel,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, yet it felt loud “What exactly is going on between you and Adrian’s brother?”