Ethan seized the glass without a second thought.

He drained it in one quick gulp.

Isabella watched him, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

He placed the empty glass back on the table.

An unfamiliar heat immediately began spreading through his veins.

He frowned, trying to understand the strange sensation.

“Is something wrong, Ethan? You don't look well,” Isabella asked, her tone laced with concern.

He started to nod, dismissing her worry.

A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him before he could speak.

The room started spinning violently.

His vision blurred at the edges.

Ethan stumbled, his hand shooting out to grip the table for support.

Isabella Scott was completely absorbed in her design sketches.

Time became irrelevant as she worked.

Only when darkness fell outside her window did she finally pause.

The room's light had grown dim.

She rubbed her tired eyes, feeling the strain.

A loud growl from her stomach announced it was well past dinner.

She stood up, stretching her stiff muscles.

Her long dark hair fell around her shoulders, framing her face.

A knock at the door broke the silence.

“Come in,” she called out.

The door opened.

A uniformed servant entered, carrying a tray with a respectful smile.

“Your dinner, Miss Scott.”

He set the tray down on the table and lifted the lid.

An array of exquisitely prepared dishes was revealed.

A delicious aroma filled the air.

Isabella’s eyes widened in recognition.

Every dish was her favorite.

Surprise flickered across her face.

Had Olivia arranged this?

“Thank you,” she said warmly, offering the servant a grateful smile.

She sat down and picked up her fork.

She took a bite of the glazed chicken.

The tangy-sweet sauce coated her tongue perfectly.

The tender meat practically melted in her mouth.

The meal was utterly delicious.

She savored every single bite.

Yet, a curious thought nagged at her throughout.

How did Olivia know her favorite dishes?

She had never mentioned them to anyone here.

Once her plate was clean, Isabella returned to her work.

The design was finally coming together beautifully.

A deep sigh of relief escaped her.

The peaceful silence was abruptly shattered by her ringing phone.

She picked it up.

Lucas Grant’s name flashed on the screen.

She hesitated for only a moment before decisively answering.

“Isabella, where are you?” Lucas’s voice was tense, urgent.

“I’m at Silverwood Estate,” she replied simply. “I’m here discussing a potential collaboration with Ms. Sterling.”

“Silverwood Estate?” His confusion was palpable. “You’re still there now? It’s so late.”

“I’m stranded. The mountain road was washed out by the rain. I can’t leave until tomorrow,” she explained.

Silence greeted her from his end.

It stretched for a long moment.

“I’ll drive over to pick you up tomorrow,” Lucas finally said.