Isabella POV
The dining hall was bright, filled with the soft clinking of cutlery and the quiet murmur of staff preparing tea. Her family sat around the long, ornate table, sunlight catching on the gold trim of the plates. Everything looked peaceful — too peaceful for the chaos inside her chest.
She forced a smile as she slid into her chair.
"Morning," she said lightly.
Christian, her father, lifted his gaze from the newspaper. "You came back quite late last night, Isabella."
Her breath caught for half a second — only half.She prayed no one noticed.
"I just… couldn't sleep." She reached for a slice of bread, acting casual. "I wanted to walk a bit. The city is beautiful at night."
Leo raised a brow. "You walked? Alone? In a foreign city?"
His tone was teasing — but his eyes were sharp.
Isabella shrugged, buttering her bread slowly, keeping her gaze down.
"I only went to a café. Nothing big."Lie.She swallowed."A lot was on my mind."
Her father nodded, perhaps too easily.As if he already knew she was unsettled.As if he had secrets too.
The conversation shifted — talk about sightseeing, museums, architecture, plans for the day — but Isabella
barely heard any of it. The taste of breakfast was distant. The room felt too warm. Her heart wouldn't slow down.
She kept seeing fragments of last night:
the dim lightshis steady handsthe way he looked at her like he already knew her
She tried to blink the memory away.
But then—
A presence.
She felt it.Before she saw anything.
Someone had entered the room behind her — quiet, confident steps.
She didn't turn.But her pulse answered before she could stop it.
The staff bowed respectfully.
"Good morning, Master Elijah."
Her breath stopped.
She didn't look up.
She didn't dare.
But she knew.
He was here.
And he had been right here the entire time.
Elijah POV
I saw her the moment I walked in.
She didn't turn toward me — but her shoulders shifted, the slightest movement. A ripple of awareness. Recognition, even if she didn't understand it yet.
She remembered me.
Good.
Her family continued eating, unaware. Her father greeted me politely, Leo watched me with cautious curiosity. None of them knew what happened last night — not that it mattered.
I wasn't here for them.
When I took my seat across the table, Isabella's gaze stayed fixed on her plate, her lashes low, pretending not to notice me. But her breathing had changed — shallow, uneven.
She was nervous.
I could almost feel her pulse from here.
I spoke evenly, calmly."Good morning. I trust you all slept well."
Her hand tightened around her fork.
No one else noticed.
Except me.
She didn't look at me — but the faint mark on her neck was no longer just a secret memory. It was proof. A quiet claim.
I let my gaze rest on her for one heartbeat too long.
She felt it.
I knew she did.
But I said nothing more.
Not yet.
Because the truth would come soon —and when it did, there would be no going back.