Behind Closed Doors of Desire

Chapter 1

“Is that your husband?” Isabella Bennett’s mother, Alice, nudged her daughter with an elbow, pointing over to The Silver Oak Tavern. Isabella froze, her gaze locking onto Henry Fletcher, who was easy to spot in his bright red shirt and dark pants, chatting with a group of four strikingly beautiful women.

“On the fifth day of the new year, and there he is, playing the social butterfly,” Clara Bennett, Isabella’s younger sister, mused as she wrapped her arm around their mother. A hint of mischief sparkled in her eyes.

At eleven, Clara and her mother had moved in with Isabella after a crisis claimed their uncle. Clara had always harbored a grudge. After Henry proposed to Isabella instead of her, she couldn’t resist stirring the pot whenever possible.

The day was significant; it marked just five days since Isabella and Henry had tied the knot.

Holding her mother’s hand tightly, Isabella watched the man she’d vowed to spend her life with, grinning like he owned the world. “He told me he’d be back by five,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart sinking.

“Is that so?” Alice reinforced, studying the scene.

Henry, tall and charming, looked like he was born to command attention, even in that flashy red shirt. Isabella let her eyelashes flutter down, offering a minimalistic smile. “Yes.”

“Then let’s say hello,” Clara suggested, already pulling Alice toward the bar.

Isabella shot Clara a sharp look. “Do you think the Fletcher family is as easygoing as the Bennetts?”

Her words carried weight, a hidden threat that stirred the air. The Bennetts had relied on the Fletchers to pull them from the brink of financial ruin, a debt that hung heavily on her chest. Clara’s expression faltered, the color draining from her face.

Alice appeared to have a moment of realization, recognizing her own position as mother-in-law might not hold the weight she thought. She forced a smile and urged Isabella, “He’s just out with friends, and if he told you that, we should respect it.”

Isabella nodded, her voice barely a whisper, “Yeah.”

“Let’s keep shopping, then.” Isabella ushered her mother away, casting one last glance at Henry just as he stood up, towering over everyone at nearly six and a half feet. Their eyes met across the crowded room, and she felt her heart race before she swiftly turned away.

William resumed jovially bantering with the women around him, his laughter mingling with theirs.

As they entered The Ascendant Spiral, Clara’s smirk returned. “Did you see? He definitely looked your way.”

Alice turned her focus to Isabella, curiosity etched on her face.

“Just keeping things civil,” Isabella replied, feigning indifference as she watched the elevator’s lights descend, trying to maintain her poise.

Clara rolled her eyes but held her tongue, the mischievous glint still smoldering within. Alice indulged the thought, perhaps Henry was genuinely busy, after all, they were only newlyweds.

“Do you need to pick up anything else?” Isabella asked, glancing at the time.

“Nah, let’s just head home,” Alice replied, shaking her head.

Isabella retrieved her car keys. “Okay.”

Clara’s eyes lit up. “But we don’t have to head home yet! Come on, let’s explore a bit more.”

“Why don’t you roam by yourself?” Isabella shot back.

“What if I can’t get back?” Clara huffed.

“Take a cab if you want,” Isabella retorted lightly as she stepped out of the elevator, taking her mother’s arm.

Clara rushed after them, her voice sharp. “So you are sulking because you saw him with those women, huh?”

Isabella fell silent.

“Clara,” Alice chided.

“Am I wrong?” Clara challenged. “It’s pretty clear why we even agreed to the wedding. Just don’t screw it up, okay?”

Isabella swallowed hard, clicking her car remote as she opened the door for Alice. She turned back to Clara, whose chin was raised defiantly. “What do you want?”

“Don’t act like you’re better than us,” Clara scoffed but climbed into the car as ordered.

Alice shot a worried look at Isabella, who was a bundle of silence and tension but unsure how to comfort her daughter or chastise Clara.

After dropping Alice and Clara off at the Bennett Manor, Isabella turned the car towards her new home at Stonebridge Market. The festive holiday spirit felt hollow with the absence of their housekeeper, who’d taken the day off for the holidays.

Isabella tossed her keys onto the table and sunk into the worn couch, scrolling aimlessly through TV channels.

Her phone buzzed, cutting through the silence.

Shifting slightly, she reached for her phone to find Henry’s name flashing on the screen. After a brief hesitation, she answered, trying to sound casual.

“Dinner at the Bennett Homestead. Should I pick you up, or are you driving?” he asked, his voice smooth and relaxed, almost too casual given the day.

“I’ll come myself,” she replied after a moment of silence.

“Dinner's at six. Don’t be late.” He hung up before she could respond.

Isabella stared at her phone for a while, realizing that it was just yet another command disguised as a request. Back on their first night, he’d been out late with Oliver Fletcher. She had barely seen him since.

It was already four-thirty when she decided to shower and change into a sleek red dress topped with a black coat, slipping her feet into a pair of heels. This winter had turned colder than expected, even for Elderville.

She climbed into her car and set off.

The Bennett family, having seen better days, hadn’t yet moved from their noisy neighborhood. Meanwhile, the Fletchers had moved into an upscale area, a quiet reprieve from the frenzy of the city, especially decorated for the holidays, making it even more inviting.

As she pulled up to the Fletcher mansion, the sun dipped lower, casting soft shadows. After greeting the family’s butler, who smiled warmly, she was told Henry waited for her in the backyard.

Isabella walked toward the back, her scarf dropping into her hands. Spotting Henry lounging on a plush couch in the Shadowhall Theater, he was focused on a Rubik’s Cube as if solving it would somehow untangle the complexities forming between them. A bowl of pistachios sat next to him.

“Hey, come in!” he called out when he noticed her.

Isabella stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

“Shopping already?” he smirked, pulling her closer as she placed her scarf on the couch.

She glanced at the screen, caught off guard when he yanked her down into his lap, his grip firm around her waist.

“Lemme guess, you peeled a few bargains?”

Isabella’s eyes dropped to his smooth chest, the red fabric hugging tautly against his skin. She hastily banished her thoughts, murmuring, “Uh-huh.”

He stretched, nodding slightly toward the bowl of nuts. “Crack a few of those open for me.”

She reached for the bowl, nodding and settling into a comfortable rhythm, stealing glances at his phone which buzzed sporadically.

And then she caught a quick glimpse of a message:

“Hey dude, you're married now. What does that mean for us?”

Chapter 2

Isabella Bennett’s hands paused for a moment as she caught a glimpse of Henry Fletcher’s phone screen out of the corner of her eye. His voice was low and teasing as he asked, “What are you looking at?”

It landed squarely in her ears.

She hesitated, then forced a smile. “Nothing.”

Continuing to crack open pistachios, she picked one up and held it to his lips. Henry opened his mouth to bite it, his eyes lifting to meet hers. Isabella's gaze lowered, the soft strands of her hair cascading down, framing her delicate features.

She had an innocent beauty about her, unassuming and gentle. Henry chewed the nut, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he tightened his embrace around her. “Don’t be scared.”

Isabella stole a subtle glance at him.

“I’m not scared.”

Henry chuckled, holding her close as they sat in a comfortable silence, munching on pistachios. There was a knock at the door; it was the housekeeper announcing that dinner was ready. Henry supported her by the waist as she stood up. Just sitting next to him, she breathed in his scent—heady and warm, mingled with a hint of cologne.

Isabella glanced down, reaching for her scarf.

Henry caught her eye and took her hand, leading her out.

As she wrapped the scarf around herself, Isabella felt like the scent from his cologne clung to her skin. “Did you switch colognes?” she asked lightly.

Henry’s brows arched as he looked her over. After a beat, he smiled. “Nope.”

“You’re just being nosy.”

His glance pierced through her teasing, and she cleared her throat, managing a slight smile. “Just curious.”

He chuckled but didn’t push further.

They had both understood the deal since before their arranged marriage—she would be a dutiful wife while he would handle things on his end. Just keep the peace. With her gaze lowered, Isabella felt her smile fade.

How had she let herself slip?

From the start, he had made it clear: I’ll help your family, you’ll be my wife, and stay out of everything else.

Just stay out of it.

As they entered the elegant dining room, Isabella adorned a polite smile. Tonight, even Oliver, part of the Fletcher family, was back. Richard and Eleanor were pleasant, especially Eleanor who insisted Isabella sit beside her, chatting and showering her with warmth.

Though Isabella felt comforted, she couldn’t help but steal glances at the man across the room.

Henry leaned against his chair, speaking animatedly with Oliver, the warm light illuminating his handsome features and playful eyes. He didn’t seem like a cold-hearted womanizer.

Yet…

Isabella felt a chill creep through her warmth, pulling her gaze away and reinstating her polite smile to continue chatting with Eleanor.

*

After dinner, they settled in for the evening. Isabella lounged with Eleanor on the couch, watching TV, while Henry sat across from them with Richard and Oliver, relaxed and engaged in serious conversation.

Suddenly, Henry’s phone rang, cutting through the room noise.

Isabella glanced over to see Henry’s phone lighting up. Eleanor noticed too, and with a teasing grin, urged Isabella, “Go ahead and pick it up.”

Isabella shook her head, smiling. “No, I’ll just hand it to him.”

She wouldn’t dare touch his phone.

“Just answer it or hang it up. It’s late. How urgent could it be?” Eleanor teased, fully aware of her son’s antics. She leaned forward to get a better look at the caller ID.

It was a number from Elderville. With a smirk, she said, “I’ll answer it then.”

Before Isabella could protest, Eleanor grabbed the phone.

Isabella glanced again towards Henry, who remained engrossed in conversation, leaning against the sofa. She hesitated, then reached for the sleek black device.

“Okay, I’ll take it and see what they want,” she told Eleanor.

Eleanor nodded approvingly.

She stood up and walked towards the hallway, tapping the answer button. Part of her hoped it would be a man’s voice on the other end. It wasn’t.

The voice that greeted her was sultry and sweet, calling out, “Henry?”

Isabella looked down, her tone calm. “He’s busy right now.”

The caller paused for a brief moment before responding, “Oh, is that so? Then I’ll call back later.”

Isabella hesitated, instinctively glancing back at Henry. He was propped up against the armrest, dark sweater huging his frame, looking up just as their eyes met. His gaze narrowed as he took note of the phone in her hand.

She felt a flutter of anxiety in her chest. “Never mind, I’ll just have to call later,” she said quickly.

And with that, she ended the call, setting the phone down on the coffee table as she returned to the room, trying to appear casual. Eleanor was still munching on sunflower seeds, her eyes fixed on Isabella.

After a long silence, Eleanor sighed, “What’s got you so nervous?”

Isabella laughed lightly, trying to deflect. “Mom, I’m going to take a shower. Shopping with Mom earlier today has me feeling wiped out.”

Eleanor set down her snack, picking up Henry’s phone to browse it. With a frown, she found it locked. “A woman’s call, huh?” she said.

“Mom,” Isabella warned gently.

Eleanor put the phone down again, glancing at Isabella’s concerned expression. “Fine, go relax.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Isabella grabbed her coat hanging on the rack and headed upstairs.

As she passed by the small living room, she couldn’t bring herself to look at Henry, not wanting to face whatever tension lingered. Henry’s master bedroom was on the third floor, and before their wedding, he had stocked it with some of her clothes. She grabbed her pajamas and headed for the shower.

Once she finished, Isabella seated herself on the bed, contemplating her phone, hoping to chat with someone about everything swirling around in her head.

After a few moments of scrolling, she sighed, placing the phone aside, opting to pick up a book instead.

*

Hours later, Henry and Richard stood in the doorway, watching as Oliver’s car drove away. Richard yawned, slapping a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I’m done for the night.”

“Alright.”

With one hand tucked in his pocket, Henry stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray before walking over to the coffee table. He picked up the black phone, unlocking the screen and seeing the call Isabella had taken earlier. A small smirk tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained cool and unreadable.

Just then, the phone buzzed again.

Henry sank into the sofa, absently tugging on decorative flowers, and answered the call.

“Henry,” came the unsure, sultry voice from the other end.

“Speak,” he replied, a hint of fatigue creeping into his tone after a long evening of discussions.

“I think you dropped your lighter at The Silver Oak Tavern today. Can I bring it to you tomorrow?”

Henry twisted the flower stem, a light smirk appearing. “A lighter? I didn’t smoke this afternoon.”

The woman hesitated.

Her pretense vanished like smoke in the air as she huffed, “Alright then. I wanted to see if you could meet me?”

Henry leaned back, stretching his legs across the table. “Not tonight. Tell me—did my wife ask you anything tonight?”

There was a pause, a clear surprise on the other end. “No, she just said she’d call again later because you were busy. You really found yourself a good wife.”

Henry chuckled softly, fingers brushing over his brow. “Indeed.”

With that, he hung up the call.

He stayed in the living room for a bit longer before heading upstairs. The bedroom, warmer than the outside, welcomed him. He shed his sweater and pulled on pajamas before heading to the shower.

When he emerged, still damp, he toweled off and climbed into bed.

Isabella, already buried under the covers, lay soundly asleep, hands resting on her stomach. As she instinctively reached for the blanket, Henry slid onto the bed, gently shifting her to face him. He pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

Isabella stirred, opening her eyes to meet his warm, playful gaze. She blinked at him, surprised, eyes wide.

“Henry,” she breathed.

He chuckled once more, voice low against her ear. “Yeah? From now on, don’t answer my calls, okay?”

Isabella tightened her grip around his shoulders, gazing at him, still caught somewhat off-guard. “What?”

He smiled, fingers gliding down her leg. “But tonight, you did well.”

So honest.

And he loved that about her.

Chapter 3

Isabella Bennett clutched the duvet, twisting it between her fingers, her gaze unfocused as she stared at Henry Fletcher, feeling both chilled and feverish. It wasn’t easy for her to tell him that it was his mother who had arranged this. She had always known he didn’t like her touching his phone.

After a long moment, she leaned against his shoulder. “I’m tired,” she murmured.

Henry raised an eyebrow and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “I know.”

Without waiting for a reply, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, Isabella slid under the covers in her pajamas, and the bathroom door opened once more. Henry emerged, wrapped in a plush robe, his damp hair tousled, the collar hanging low enough to reveal his prominent collarbones.

He walked around to her side of the bed, pulled up the covers, and tousled her hair lightly with his large hand. “Go to sleep,” he said softly.

Isabella mumbled a response and turned on her side.

“Come closer,” Henry said, his voice calm and steady.

Biting her lip, she reluctantly scooted back until she was nestled against him. He turned her gently so she was laying on his shoulder.

With a swift motion, he reached up and switched off the light.

The room plunged into darkness, but Isabella’s eyes flew open. Her mind raced with thoughts of the woman on the phone calling his name—Henry, Henry, Henry.

How many women called him Henry?

What secrets were locked away in his phone?

A few minutes passed before Isabella shifted, now facing away from him. The soft glow from the bedside lamp caught her eye at the nightstand—it was a box of condoms.

All his.

She stared for a long moment, her thoughts spiraling, until she finally shut her eyes.

The next morning, Isabella woke to the sound of the clock ticking: it was after nine. The space beside her was empty. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she got up, washed up, and made her way downstairs. Lily Greenwood had just come back from a morning yoga class, wearing a bright smile. “Why didn’t you sleep a little longer?”

Isabella shook her head, her gaze scanning the room. “Where's Henry?”

Lily’s smile faded slightly. “He left early.”

“Oh, okay,” Isabella replied, trying to mask her disappointment.

Lily looked at her with a hint of sympathy, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen. “Come on, eat something. We’re going to the Sinclair house later.”

Isabella hesitated before saying, “Thanks, Mom, but I need to swing by my place. Dad hasn’t been feeling too well lately.”

“Oh, I see. That’s fine.” Lily paused, glancing at Isabella as she settled at the table, and then went to grab some gifts for Isabella’s family.

As Isabella sipped her congee, a few of the housekeepers passed by, giving her curious glances before whispering among themselves.

“So, marrying someone from the right background is still the best choice. Can you believe he just left her like that?”

“I heard she and the second son had a spat about it this morning, but look at her—she’s sleeping just fine upstairs.”

“She can’t control him, and who even knows how this marriage thing got agreed upon.”

“It’s about the Fletcher family’s influence, you know? A mutual benefit, I guess. Who cares? Let’s not talk. She’s a good lady, constantly defending her daughter-in-law.”

“Yeah, but honestly, I don’t think she’s holding her own too well.”

Isabella froze, her hand gripping the spoon tighter as she stared blankly at her bowl of porridge.

She glanced down at her phone on the table, took a few deep breaths, and decided to type out a message.

Isabella: Why didn’t you say goodbye when you left?

The reply came quickly.

Henry: Wanted you to sleep in.

A bitter smile crept onto Isabella's face. Didn’t need to. I don’t need to—

After finishing breakfast, Isabella said her goodbyes to Lily. As they walked outside, Lily clasped her hand tightly. “Make sure you come home more often, okay? Living out here with Henry, you’re missing out on family dinners.”

“Sure, Mom,” Isabella replied with a smile.

As Lily fussed over her hair gently, Isabella caught a glimpse of the butler carrying a handful of gift boxes to the car. She lowered her gaze. “Really, everything’s fine at home.”

“Just take them,” Lily insisted.

Isabella didn’t argue anymore. She walked to her car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine, giving Lily and the butler a nod as she turned the vehicle around.

The white car eased through the gates.

Lily frowned slightly. “Isabella doesn’t seem comfortable in our house.”

The butler sighed, looking at her with understanding. “The second son’s attitude matters more than anything.”

Lily’s expression darkened; it seemed nothing would ever come easy with her two sons. Henry had been ambitious, closely following Oliver in business, and it had changed him—making it hard to read him.

When she arrived back at Bennett Manor, Isabella parked, and Alice Latham came out to meet her, looking rather relieved. “Your dad is fine. There was no need for you to rush back.”

“He’s still your husband—shouldn’t we take care of him?” Alice added lightly.

Isabella smiled but kept quiet, unloading the gifts from the car. Clara Bennett joined them and eyed the gifts with jealousy, remembering the events from The Silver Oak Tavern yesterday. “If only she could join us, but what if her husband doesn’t want her there?”

Isabella cast a disinterested glance at Clara.

Alice took the gifts with a dismissive wave. “Ignore what she says.”

Isabella linked her arm with her mother’s as they entered the modest home. Bennett Manor didn’t compare to Fletcher Estate, surrounded by mountains and bright sunlight. This place was older, duller, and the nearby buildings had all turned into rental properties.

In terms of staff, they could only afford one housekeeper. Now she had come to collect the items, and seeing the lavish gifts from the Fletcher family eased Alice’s heart; at least they liked Isabella.

Heading upstairs to check on her father, Isabella couldn’t shake the weight of the family legacy. It became painfully clear that the Bennett estate had faltered over the years, primarily due to the health issues of the male heirs.

No matter how vast the family business, a string of bad luck couldn’t hold. Thankfully, her father was doing alright, but he was always fragile, and any hint of a health scare sent the family into a panic.

Chapter 4

Isabella Bennett hurried past her sister, Clara, picking up the medicine bowl from the counter to help their father, William Bennett.

Isabella paused in her tracks.

Alice Latham, their mother, looked up from her task. "Clara may have a sharp tongue, but she really cares about your father."

"Yeah," Isabella replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

William’s face lit up when he noticed Isabella's presence. A hint of color returned to his cheeks as he squeezed her hand. “Feeling better?”

“Much better,” he nodded, glancing around as if searching for someone.

Isabella hesitated. “He’s been a bit busy lately. Our wedding plans have pushed a lot of things aside.”

Clara scoffed, overhearing the conversation. She lifted her gaze, eyeing Isabella with disdain. A wave of irritation washed over Isabella, but she bit her tongue, remembering the medicine bowl still in her hands. “I’ll check if he can come over for dinner,” she said, pulling out her phone.

As she stepped toward the balcony, her reflection in the glass caught her attention. The high-neck black sweater she wore seemed to accentuate the fading marks on her neck. She quickly averted her gaze, found Henry Fletcher’s number, and dialed.

It was rare for her to call him.

The phone rang, and soon the familiar tune echoed in her ear. Laughter, both male and female, rang out before he even spoke. That unmistakable female voice from the night before.

Isabella clenched her phone tightly.

“Hey, babe,” Henry’s deep voice came through, casual but with an undertone she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

She smiled at the sliding door, then said, “Are you busy today?”

“It’s okay,” he replied lightly, his tone lacking a certain warmth.

She could feel the weight of Clara and their parents' eyes on her.

“Would you come over for dinner? Dad’s been feeling a bit under the weather. He’d like to see you.”

Her voice was steady, but a subtle plea lay beneath the surface.

He must have sensed it because after a brief silence, he replied, “Sure, I’ll be there around three-thirty.”

“Thanks,” she breathed, relief flooding her.

After hanging up, she turned to face her family. “He’ll be here in a bit. Three-thirty.”

William’s expression brightened. “Great! Let’s make sure everything’s ready.”

He turned to Alice. “Why don’t you whip up something special? I’d like to have a drink with him tonight.”

Alice nodded, her smile widening. Clara rolled her eyes, a twinge of jealousy flickering across her face.

By three-thirty, William had changed into a nicer outfit, and Isabella supported him as he made his way downstairs. Clara trailed behind, eyeing the door expectantly.

A sleek black Porsche pulled up outside.

Isabella recognized the license plate and let out a small sigh of relief. Despite his detached demeanor, Henry always followed through. He stepped out, clad in a tailored black sweater and trousers, exuding confidence as he closed the car door behind him.

“Good to see you, Dad. Feeling a bit better?” Henry called up the steps with a grin.

“Much better, thanks,” William replied, his face lighting up.

“Glad to hear it,” Henry said, his gaze moving to Isabella. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she felt a small flutter of affection as she adjusted his collar absentmindedly.

He met her gaze, his hand brushing hers as he took hold. “Your dad wants to discuss the situation with Feng Run?”

William looked momentarily taken aback, impressed by Henry’s perceptiveness. “Yes, what do you think we should do? Keep him around or let him go?”

“Definitely keep him," Henry said, leaning back with a casual confidence, his long legs crossed, a playful gleam in his eye. “Let’s make sure he knows we mean business.”

Clara sat across from them, her eyes darting back and forth between Isabella and Henry. She scrutinized the way he held Isabella’s hand. No wonder she put up with so much – a man like him was hard to resist, and it was clear why so many women were drawn to him.

As Clara’s cheeks flushed, Isabella stood up to get coffee, just to break the tension. When she returned, she placed the cups on the table beside Henry’s phone, causing her to fumble slightly.

He shot her a knowing look, one that sent warmth bubbling up inside her.

Keeping her composure, she straightened, but his gaze held hers, making her stomach flutter. Last night was still fresh in her mind.

“You okay?” he whispered, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Isabella nodded, forcing a steady breath.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning slightly closer, his fingers trailing gently beneath her sleeve.

A shiver ran down her spine, but she didn’t pull away.

Chapter 5

Henry Fletcher glanced at Isabella Bennett, a playful smile crossing his face as he pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. He turned to William Bennett, who had been quietly observing the couple. Seeing his son-in-law’s affection towards Isabella provided a flicker of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. “Feng Run has been with the Bennett family for ages. He’s got a wealth of our family's history and documentation, which is a bit unsettling for me,” he said, his voice steady yet laced with concern.

“Don't worry about it, Father-in-law. I’ll handle it,” Henry replied, taking a sip of his coffee with a calm demeanor.

William's eyes brightened. “Good.”

Isabella, still caught in the warmth of Henry's embrace, fiddled with her phone, her attention wavering as she listened to their back-and-forth. Her gaze dropped, processing the weight of her father’s hesitance and the hope he seemed to place in Henry. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of her phone, lost in thought.

Noticing Isabella’s delicate fingers, Henry turned back to William with a lighthearted grin. “I brought some documents. After the New Year, I’d like us to kick off a new project together.”

William perked up, his focus sharpening. “Absolutely.”

Henry smiled softly, then glanced down at Isabella again, before lightly tapping her waist. “The documents are in the car; can you grab them for me?”

“Sure,” she replied, taking the car keys he offered before stepping away.

The wind whipped around her as she walked outside, the luxury of Henry’s new car standing out like a beacon. She opened the door, a rush of warmth and a hint of his cologne enveloping her—familiar, comforting, reminiscent of last night.

She paused, extending her arm to retrieve a stack of files from the backseat. As she did, she wondered if a woman had sat in the passenger seat, a flicker of jealousy tightening her chest. Shutting the door behind her, she returned to the living room, placing the files on Henry's lap just as his eyes met hers.

“I wore something lighter and will change into something warmer upstairs,” she said, her fingers tucking into her sweater to hide their chill.

Henry grasped her fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Might be a bit chilly. Go on, then.”

With a small smile, Isabella headed toward the stairs.

When she returned in a soft, beige sweater, her father and Henry were deeply engaged in serious conversation. William’s usual self-doubt seemed to fade under Henry’s confident guidance, a transformation that brought Isabella a mix of pride and complexity. Setting aside her own feelings, she felt a wave of gratitude toward Henry for lifting her father's spirits.

Isabella made her way into the kitchen, where Alice Latham and Clara Bennett were busy preparing dinner. Alice was a skilled chef, and Clara was helping her by passing ingredients. Clara looked over and quirked an eyebrow. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Isabella ignored her and stepped in to help Alice stir the pot.

Clara glanced toward the living room, where Henry lounged casually against the couch, then back at Isabella, muttering, “What’s with the sudden sweater change?”

Isabella chose not to respond.

By 5:30, dinner was served, and the family gathered at the table. Isabella went to grab the wine, returning just in time to catch her father’s attention. “Dad, maybe skip the heavy drinking tonight?” she suggested softly.

“Yeah, just go easy, okay?” Alice chimed in.

William shot them both a disgruntled look. “Cut it out; just pour me a glass.”

Henry chuckled, leaning back. “Father-in-law, I still think you should ease up. We’ll save the real celebration for when you’re feeling better.”

William shrugged, attempting to reassure them. “I’m fine! It’s freezing out here. A little warmth won’t hurt.”

Henry took the wine glass, glancing over at Isabella. “No worries; Izzy will drive us home.”

She shot him a knowing look. “Just don’t overdo it.”

“Okay, okay,” he replied with a smirk.

As he lifted his glass, their fingers brushed—a fleeting sensation of coolness amidst the warmth of the room. “Wasn’t the idea to wear something warmer?” he teased, eyeing her cozy sweater.

Isabella paused for a moment, then pulled her hand back. “This one is warmer; I just had cold fingers from the wine.”

“Come sit over here,” he beckoned, nodding towards the empty spot beside him.

With a brief hesitation, she moved to his side, her heart thumping slightly as Alice shared a glance with William, both wearing expressions of contentment at this blossoming connection.

Clara, always eager for attention, stood up with a glass in hand, beaming as she addressed Henry. “Hey, brother-in-law, let’s have a toast!”

Isabella shot Clara a sidelong glance, unimpressed.

Henry lifted his glass, clinking it with hers before turning back to William. “To family.”

William returned the gesture, raising his glass with a broad smile.

As the meal unfolded over two hours, the world outside faded into darkness, the remnants of the festive season lingering in the air illuminated by the soft glow of red lanterns. William, with a few glasses in him, began to blush, while Henry appeared unfazed, his charismatic demeanor warmed by the subtle buzz of alcohol.

Observing her father, Henry put his glass down with a smile. “I should probably stop here.”

William beamed, rallying for more. “Come on, just a little more!”

“No, really.”

The women joined in, trying to coax him into having just one more round, and eventually, they managed to settle him down. After clearing the table, Henry slipped into his coat, wrapping an arm around Isabella as they both stood to say their goodbyes.

William, fighting off the alcohol’s grip, joined Alice at the door to see them off. As they neared the entrance, Clara suddenly appeared on the staircase, calling out, “Hey, sis, when did you get that ‘Night Shade’ perfume?”

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