Isabella’s POV
The mansion felt heavier than usual that evening, every shadow stretching longer, every silence louder.
I had spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding everyone—hiding in the library, rereading the damning note until the words blurred.
Victoria’s threat echoed in my head like a curse. Charlie’s conflicted touch from earlier still burned on my skin.
I was changing into a simple nightdress when the bedroom door slammed open.
Charlie stood in the doorway, jacket already discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His eyes were dark, stormy, filled with that dangerous mix of rage and hunger I had come to recognize too well.
He didn’t speak. He simply closed the door behind him with a soft click that somehow felt louder than a gunshot, then crossed the room in three
