Isabella lowered her gaze, concealing the turmoil within.

She spoke softly, “Understood, Mr. Blackwood.”

Chloe moved closer, taking Isabella’s hand gently. “Isabella, it’s really okay to step back. Your well-being matters most.”

Isabella forced a smile, squeezing Chloe’s hand in return. “Thank you, Chloe. I appreciate your kindness.”

With no further tasks, Isabella prepared to leave. She needed to see her grandmother. Eleanor was her only true family, her only source of warmth in a cold world.

Memories of the day’s events flooded her mind. Ethan’s coldness. Sophia’s smug satisfaction. The curious stares of her colleagues. Each felt like a fresh wound.

“Isabella?” Eleanor’s eyes widened in surprise upon entering her kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

Eleanor had just returned from her dance class. She found Isabella standing there, spatula in hand.

Isabella arranged the stir-fried vegetables carefully onto a plate. She tried to appear calm. “Grandma, I cooked for you. Come, taste it.”

Eleanor placed her fan on the table. She didn’t touch the food. Instead, she fixed Isabella with a knowing look. Her eyes seemed to see straight through the facade.

Isabella felt a prickle of anxiety under that intense gaze. She remained composed. She served a bowl of shrimp and grits—Eleanor’s favorite. “Please, have some. You always loved my shrimp and grits.”

Eleanor was not distracted. Her expression remained serious. Her voice was slow and deliberate. “Isabella, did something happen with that young man, Lucas?”

At the mention of Lucas, Isabella’s grip on the fork tightened almost imperceptibly. She forced a light, dismissive smile. “Grandma, everything is fine. Please, don’t worry.”

“Isabella,” Eleanor’s tone was firm yet loving, “I may not be as sharp as I once was. My ability to help is limited. But promise me this—never let anyone hurt you. If your heart is heavy, just come home. I am always here, waiting.”

Instead of pressing further, Eleanor simply reached out. She clasped Isabella’s hand. Her fingers were warm against Isabella’s cold skin. Her voice was soft, yet filled with unwavering support.

Isabella could no longer hold back. Her nose tingled. Tears welled up, blurring her vision. She choked out a barely audible, “Grandma…”

Eleanor’s heart swelled with tenderness. She drew Isabella into a warm embrace. She patted her back gently, just as she had when Isabella was a child. Softly, she murmured, “My dear, you still cry so easily, just like when you were little.”

Nestled against Eleanor’s shoulder, Isabella breathed in the familiar, soothing scent of lavender soap. It always calmed her storms.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. She tried to steady her chaotic emotions.

Now was not the time to break. She had to stay strong.

For her unborn child’s sake, Isabella knew she had to act quickly. She needed to secure the funds for a safe delivery and a fresh start.