The ICU door clicked open.

Afternoon light flooded the hushed corridor.

A doctor stepped out, his face etched with fatigue.

He removed his mask, revealing a faint, weary smile.

“She’s stable,” he announced, his voice cautious but hopeful. “We can transfer her to the VIP ward now.”

A wave of relief crashed over Isabella.

The heavy weight on her shoulders lifted slightly.

Her exhausted body hummed with a sudden, fleeting strength.

“That’s incredible news!” Lucas exhaled deeply beside her.

The tension drained from his posture.

His strained features softened into pure relief.

Later, in the quiet comfort of the VIP ward, Isabella kept her vigil.

She never left Eleanor’s side.

Eleanor’s eyelids fluttered open.

Her gaze was cloudy, disoriented.

She squinted, struggling to focus on the familiar faces.

Recognition dawned. A weak, tender smile touched her lips. “Isabella… and Lucas,” she murmured, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Isabella grasped her grandmother’s hand, her eyes glistening. “Grandma, you’re awake! How do you feel?” Her voice was thick with emotion.

Eleanor gave a gentle pat on the back of Isabella’s hand. “Better, my dear. Don’t you worry.” Her voice was a soft, warm embrace.

She then turned her attention to Lucas, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Thank you, Lucas. For everything.”

Lucas offered a warm, reassuring smile. “It was the least I could do, Eleanor. Please, just focus on resting.”

The room’s atmosphere shifted instantly.

Ethan entered.

He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that screamed power and elegance.

He approached the bedside with a respectful nod.

Eleanor’s gaze landed on him.

Her eyebrows knitted together in visible confusion.

She turned to Lucas, her voice laced with uncertainty. “Lucas, who is this man?”

A heavy, oppressive silence descended.

Both Isabella and Lucas froze, their eyes locked on Ethan.

Isabella’s heart hammered violently against her ribs.

Panic surged.

How could she possibly explain her tangled connection to him?

How would her grandmother react?

In a moment of sheer terror, the words tumbled out. “He’s… he’s just a friend.”

“A friend?” Eleanor’s tone was deeply skeptical.

Her clouded eyes scrutinized Ethan, then Isabella, as if solving a complex puzzle.

Her wrinkled hand tenderly brushed Isabella’s. “A friend,” she repeated, her voice heavy with unspoken doubt.

Ethan stood perfectly still.

His face had gone ashen.

His lips were pressed into a tight, white line, his jaw clenched.

He remained silent, his intense gaze burning into Isabella, loaded with a torrent of unspoken words.

Isabella, utterly overwhelmed, could not meet his piercing stare.

She focused on the comforting warmth of her grandmother’s hand, her own palms slick with cold sweat.

She could feel the sharpness of Ethan’s eyes on her, slicing through the thick air, making every muscle in her body tense with acute discomfort.

The oppressive silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Finally, Eleanor released a soft, weary sigh.

Her touch on Isabella’s hand was both gentle and firm. “Isabella, you are a grown woman. It is not my place to choose for you.” Her voice was quiet, resigned. “Just promise me you will be careful. Promise me you will protect your heart.”