Sebastian stood outside Isabelle’s bedroom, gripping the velvet-wrapped box in his hands.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed in, making every thought louder, every hesitation heavier.
He had spent years walking into meetings without flinching, negotiating deals with men who would slit each other’s throats for a fraction of what he made. But this? Standing here, waiting for her to open that damn door? This made something tighten in his chest.
He wasn’t a man who second-guessed himself. He had built his life on certainty—on control. But now, he wasn’t sure how this would go.
He just knew he had to try.
With a deep breath, he knocked.
At first, nothing. Then, the faint shuffle of movement. The door cracked open slightly before swinging wider, revealing Isab
