If Isabella had never returned, Ethan wouldn't be like this—so detached, so unreachable. He was meant to be hers. He should be guarding her, protecting her. Not Isabella. Never Isabella.

"I refuse to surrender. I will never back down," she hissed, her voice dripping with fierce resolve.

Meanwhile, Isabella approached the hospital entrance, a thermal lunch container in hand.

Eleanor had been hospitalized for some time now. Today, Isabella had specially prepared her favorite pot roast and fish soup—something hearty, something soothing.

But as she neared the entrance, her steps slowed. A familiar black luxury vehicle was parked nearby. Ethan. Her heartbeat quickened without warning.

Why was he here?

Shoving aside her unease, Isabella moved through the corridors until she reached Eleanor's private room.

Just as she was about to enter, a familiar deep voice drifted through the door. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll ensure you receive the finest medical care. Whatever it takes."

Isabella froze. She pushed the door open and took in the scene. Ethan was seated beside Eleanor's bed, his gaze gentle, his voice calm and reassuring.

"Ah, there you are!" Eleanor's face lit up with a warm smile the moment she spotted Isabella.

Ethan turned as well, his eyes settling on her.

For a brief instant, their gazes locked—charged with something unspoken, something intense.

Isabella hesitated at the doorway, caught off guard by the sudden surge of emotions swirling inside her. But she quickly composed herself, suppressing whatever was threatening to rise.

She stepped forward and placed the thermal container on the bedside table.

"How are you feeling, Grandma?" she asked softly.

Eleanor gave her hand a reassuring pat. "Much better," she said, her voice warm. "I just realized how fortunate I am. Ethan arranged my transfer to this suite. The medical staff here are exceptional. They've been wonderfully attentive."

Isabella's fingers tightened slightly. Her gaze drifted toward Ethan before she could stop herself.

He stood quietly to the side, silent yet present. When he heard Eleanor's words, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips—so brief it was nearly invisible.

"Yes... Mr. Blackwood has been very thoughtful." Her voice held a hint of stiffness, betraying the emotions she was still fighting to control.

Ethan's eyes met hers again, filled with something she couldn't quite interpret. "It was the least I could do," he replied, his tone even, devoid of any discernible emotion.

Silence filled the room. The faint scent of disinfectant blended with the comforting aroma of the food Isabella had brought—a strange, almost surreal contrast.

After a moment, Ethan turned to Eleanor. "Get some rest. I'll take my leave now."

Eleanor nodded. "Travel safely."

With a brief nod, Ethan turned and walked out of the room.

"Isabella, why don't you see Ethan out?" Eleanor's voice was light yet firm.