At the family dinner, Isabella had been smiling so much her face felt stiff. Once she got in the car on the way home, she suddenly went quiet, her whole body softening.
Theodore reached out, wanting to pull her into his arms and rub her shoulders. However, the moment his hand touched her, she flinched as if she'd been shocked, shrinking back.
He froze.
Isabella lifted her head slightly, forcing a smile. "It's fine, Mr. Sinclair."
Hearing the way she addressed him made his heart sink. At first, she had called him that, too, but it had felt different. Now, she was deliberately keeping her distance.
"Isabella, are you mad at me?" he asked.
She shook her head but said nothing.
Why would she be mad? Without his five million dollars, she didn't even want to think about what kind of pressure Richard and Margaret would've put on her to marry someone.
Still, why did she feel just a little uncomfortable?
"Isabella, I didn't know how to reveal my identity to you at first. I thought I'd let you gradually get used to it. I know the dinner tonight was sudden. I made you face the truth all at once. I understand if you're upset. You can scold me, but don't just stew in silence."
She looked at him. Theodore really was a man who could calm others with just a few words.
"Why did you marry me?" she asked. That question was the most pressing.
He stayed silent, watching her.
"You're the head of the Sinclair family, and I'm just a woman from an ordinary household. We live in the same city, but we're from completely different worlds. We might never have crossed paths in a lifetime, but you chose to marry me. Why is that so?"
Theodore listened quietly until she finished and chuckled softly. "Isabella, you're the one who proposed."


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