Rescued by the billionaire

CHAPTER SEVEN: Navigating

"I love dresses," Isobel spoke up just then, her eyes lighting up with excitement, a smile spreading across her face; "Oh, honey, we could go shopping together and buy a lot of dresses," my mom replied, her voice filled with enthusiasm, as she leaned in, a conspiratorial whisper escaping her lips, "And my son is a very rich man," she added, a sly glint in her eye;

Isobel's gaze shifted to me, and time seemed to stop, our eyes locking in a moment of intense connection, the air thick with unspoken tension; this seemed to be a regular occurrence with us, a spark of electricity that flew between us whenever our eyes met, and I couldn't help but feel drawn to her, my senses heightened as I gazed into her eyes; just then, my mom cleared her throat, breaking the spell, and I was jolted back to reality, feeling a little like I'd been caught in a private moment, one that wasn't meant for public consumption.

Since we returned to the city a two months ago, Isobel has become much more confident, her personality blossoming under my mom's guidance and mentorship; my mom has taken her under her wing, teaching her the ropes of high society, and Isobel has proven to be a quick learner, adapting to her new surroundings with ease; however, despite the progress she's made, the nightmares still linger, although they're not as frequent as before; there's been a change, though - she now remembers waking up at night, screaming and calling out my name, a development that's both unsettling and intriguing; I've been doing everything I can, medically speaking, to help her, exploring all avenues of treatment, but progress is slow, and it's clear that her recovery will be a long and arduous process; still, I'm determined to help her, to find a way to ease her suffering and unlock the secrets of her past, no matter how long it takes.

She's also being homeschooled, my mom having deemed it the best way for her to learn how to fit into the society we're accustomed to; under my mom's guidance, Isobel is receiving a well-rounded education, one that includes not just traditional schoolwork, but also etiquette and the finer points of social interaction; my mom, being the consummate hostess and socialite that she is, is determined to teach Isobel the skills she needs to navigate our world with ease; and so, Isobel spends her days learning about literature, history, and mathematics, as well as how to hold a fork, how to address people of title, and how to comport herself in polite society; after a full day of learning, it's not uncommon for Isobel to seemingly disappear with my mom, only to resurface hours later, when mom drops her off back at my place, with little to no information about what they've been up to in the intervening hours; it's almost as if they've been having some sort of secret adventure, one that I'm not privy to, and I'm left to wonder what exactly they're getting up to.

We both sat down to have dinner, and as we ate, she began telling me about how she and Mom had recently enrolled in a cooking class together, describing in detail the different dishes they had made and tasted. Her eyes lit up as she spoke, and she even let out a soft moan of delight when she recalled the rich, chocolate cake they had baked — a dessert so delicious that just thinking about it made her smile.

I was lost in thought, my mind preoccupied with the events of the day, when I heard her call my name, her voice breaking through my reverie; I quickly recovered, putting on a neutral expression before she could notice my distraction; she asked how my day was, and I just shrugged, not wanting to go into details, telling her it was the same old routine of meetings and other stuff; she nodded in acknowledgment, seeming to understand, and we sat there for a moment, the conversation flowing easily, but my mind still lingering on the thoughts that had consumed me just moments before