The glass doors of the boardroom had barely finished sliding shut when Isabelle heard her name.
“Isabelle.”
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Just her name—low, steady, and heavy with everything he hadn’t said in weeks.
She didn’t have to turn to know.
She knew the weight of Marcus’s voice better than most men she’d loved. He never raised it. He didn’t need to.
She turned slowly, finding him waiting just beyond the hallway to her office—suit still crisp, posture composed, but there was something off in his stance. Something tight around his eyes. Something tired in the way his shoulders didn’t quite sit straight.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
It wasn’t a question.
She nodded once and gestured toward her assistant without looking away. “Hold my calls.”
She didn’t speak as they walked
