Henry Jackson leaned against the doorfra, tears streaming down his bloodied face. "Isabella... I... I didn’t know where else to go. She... she broke ."
Isabella’s heart clenched. This man, a stranger turned protector, now stood before her like a wounded animal. Henry had listened, comforted her when she was at her lowest, and their shared vulnerability had led to a night of raw passion. Today, when Logan showed up at her hotel spewing threats, Henry had stepped in, fists ready, chasing him off. Now, here he was, broken. "Co in, co in," she urged, pulling him inside gently. "You’re shaking like a leaf. Sit down before you collapse."
She guided him to the plush leather couch in her spacious living room, the city lights twinkling through floor-to-ceiling windows like distant stars. Henry slumped down, wincing as blood dripped onto the white rug. "I’m sorry... Your rug... I left this afternoon to see her... Eliana. And now... everything’s ruined."
Isabella knelt beside him, her voice soft but firm. "Shh, don’t talk yet. You’re bleeding badly. Let get a cloth." She hurried to the kitchen, returning with a damp towel and pressing it to his head. "Hold this. I’m calling my doctor—Dr. Kelvin. He’s discreet and makes house calls."
Henry nodded weakly, his eyes fluttering. "You don’t have to... I just... I fought so guys at a bar. Stupid. So stupid."
Isabella dialed quickly. "Dr. Kelvin? It’s Isabella Voss. I need you at my house now—ergency. A friend... he’s been beaten up, head wound, possible concussion. Yes, thank you."
While waiting, she fetched a glass of water. "Drink this. Slowly. You reek of whiskey, Henry. What were you thinking, getting into a fight like that?"
He sipped, his hands trembling. "I wasn’t thinking. She said... she loves like a brother. After everything... I defended her, made her my whole world... and she chooses him."
Isabella’s expression softened with empathy. "Eliana—the one you ntioned? Your first love?"
"Yeah," he whispered, fresh tears welling. "I thought... maybe. But no."
The doctor arrived within twenty minutes, a middle-aged man with a calm deanor and a black dical bag. "Miss Voss, what’s the situation?"
"This is Henry," Isabella explained. "He showed up like this—beaten, drunk. Please, check him."
Dr. Kelvin examined Henry efficiently, shining a light in his eyes, cleaning the wound. "Concussion, likely. Laceration needs stitches—five should do. Bruised ribs, but nothing broken. He’ll need rest, no alcohol, and monitoring for the night."
As the doctor stitched the gash, Henry winced but stayed silent, his mind numb. Isabella watched, gratitude swelling in her chest. This man had been her rock today; now it was her turn. "Thank you, Doctor. Bill as usual."
Once done, Dr. Kelvin left instructions: painkillers, ice, bed rest. Isabella helped Henry to the guest room—a cozy space with a king-sized bed, soft linens, and a view of the glittering city. "Here, get comfortable. I’ll bring you sothing to eat later."
Henry collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion claiming him. "Why... why are you doing this? We barely know each other."
Isabella tucked the blanket around him, her touch gentle. "Because you were there for last night and today. You defended against Logan without hesitation. You’re a good man, Henry. Kind. And right now, you need soone. Sleep. I’ll be here."
He murmured a thank you before drifting into a fitful sleep, oblivious to the world. Isabella lingered, then headed to the kitchen. She wasn’t much of a cook—her self-made wealth ca from tech startups, not dosticity—but for him, she’d try. She whipped up a simple chicken soup, the aroma filling the penthouse. When he stirred hours later, groggy and disoriented, she brought a tray. "Eat this. It’ll help."
Henry blinked at her. "You... cooked?"
She smiled faintly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Don’t get used to it. But yes. I was making my own dinner before you ca anyway. Open up— you’re too weak to feed yourself right now."
He allowed her to spoon-feed him, the warmth of the soup soothing his battered body. "This is... nice. Thank you, Isabella. I don’t rember much after the bar."
"Good," she replied softly. "Forget the pain for now. You’re safe here."
As he ate, they talked in hushed tones—about her heartbreak with Logan, his with Eliana. It was cathartic, two wounded souls finding solace. Isabella felt a spark, a connection beyond their one-night stand. For Henry, it was a lifeline in his darkest hour.
anwhile, back at the hospital, Eliana paced her room as much as her weakened state allowed, the IV drip tugging at her arm. The beeping monitors were a constant reminder of her fragility—and the baby growing inside her. Henry’s tear-streaked face haunted her, the way he’d bolted from the room like a man fleeing a fire. "Oh, Henry," she whispered to herself, clutching her cracked phone. She’d dialed his number—the sa number he’d called her with earlier today— repeatedly, each unanswered ring twisting her gut tighter.
"Rafael," she said as he wheeled into the room, his steel eyes piercing despite his feigned blindness. Jas lingered outside. "Henry’s not answering. He ran out crying... I never wanted to hurt him like that. He’s my best friend, the one who’s always been there. What if he’s in danger? Mirabel’s threats—"
Rafael reached for her hand, his touch gentle. "Eliana, sit down. You’re stressing yourself out, and that’s not good for you or the little one." His voice was a low rumble, laced with sarcasm but undercut by concern. "I’m begging you—don’t worry too much about Henry. He’ll be fine. n like him bounce back, even if it takes a bottle or two."
"But I love him, Rafael," she choked out, tears spilling over her honey eyes. "Not the way he wants, but I do. The last thing I’d ever wish is harm on him. If Mirabel touches him—"
Rafael squeezed her hand. "I promise, I’ll look into it discreetly. Make sure he’s safe." He turned his head slightly. "Jas?"
Jas stepped in. "Sir?"
"Send so guards to track Henry Jackson. Quietly. Report back on his whereabouts and safety."
Jas nodded. "Consider it done."
Eliana sank back onto the bed, relief washing over her like a cool wave. "Thank you, Rafael. That... that helps."
In that mont, her hatred for Mirabel Vexley was beyond just hatred anymore. The thought of her father in ICU, tubes snaking across his frail body, fighting for life because of Mirabel’s sches. Herself here, nearly losing her unborn child to that woman’s malice. And now Henry, suffering threats because of her delusions. It was unbearable.
"Rafael," she said, her voice turning cold as ice, devoid of its usual warmth. "Get the doctor in here. Tell him to do whatever it takes—ds, treatnts—to make strong enough to leave this hospital tomorrow. I want to get married as soon as possible. And once that’s done, I’ll find a way to end Mirabel for good. No more waiting."
Rafael’s chiseled jaw tightened, his piercing eyes narrowing behind the pretense of cloudiness. He didn’t like this fire in her—the way it mirrored his own ruthlessness. "Eliana, you’re talking like a vigilante. That’s not you."
"Maybe it is now," she shot back, her expressive eyes hardening. "She’s taken too much. My family, my peace, my friends. It ends."
He didn’t argue, but in his mind, wheels turned. Mirabel was already cornered; he had the evidence, the tools to dismantle her empire and send her to ruin. But revealing that now? Eliana might back out of the marriage, seeing no need for his protection anymore. And he couldn’t risk that—not when he was so close to having her, to cracking his own walls for love. No, the wedding first. Then the strike.
"As you wish," he murmured, his voice a velvet blade. "Rest now. Tomorrow, we move forward."
The room fell silent, charged with unspoken tensions, as the city outside pulsed with life unaware of the storms brewing within.
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