“I’m dying,” he admitted quietly.
I froze. The words hit me like a cold gust of wind. Whatever smug satisfaction I had felt moments ago vanished, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. This wasn’t something you could brush off with a fake smile or a clever quip.
“I don’t have time for games, Isabella,” he continued, his tone grave but steady. “I’ve spent my life building something—a legacy, a future for my family. And now, all I want is to see Sabastine settled before I go.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “He’s the last piece of the puzzle. The only one left who can carry on what I started.”
I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.
“You don’t have to care about me,” he went on, voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “But if you care about Sabastine at all—just a
