Freya’s POV
Would she actually care about Isabella’s wellbeing?
*Don’t make assumptions,* I chided myself, turning away before he could notice me eavesdropping. I slipped into Isabella’s bedroom, forcing my emotions back under control.
Isabella lay sleeping peacefully, the IV finally removed from her tiny arm. Sara was gently patting our daughter’s forehead with a cool cloth, wiping away the sweat from her fever breaking. When she spotted me, she immediately moved aside, offering me the washcloth—expecting me to take over as I always had in the past.
I shook my head slightly. Sara paused, confusion flickering across her weathered features before she resumed her ministrations, carefully changing Isabella into dry pajamas.
I settled onto the small sofa in the corner of the room, watching my daughter’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Only when Sara had finished did I speak.
"Is the doctor gone?" I asked quietly.
"Yes," Sara nodded.
"What did he say? Will her fever return?"
I was calculating whether I needed to stay overnight, weighing my desire to protect my pup against the emotional minefield of being in this house again.
"The doctor said it’s unlikely," Sara replied, adjusting Isabella’s blanket one last time.
"That’s good." Relief washed through me. If Isabella was truly on the mend, I could likely leave before morning. Before having to face more of whatever was happening between Silvano and Aurora.
Remembering the porridge still simmering downstairs, I excused myself after sitting with Isabella a while longer. As I reached the kitchen, Sara was already there tending the pot.
"I can watch this, Luna," she said, the formal title still slipping out despite everything that had changed. "You must be exhausted. Please, rest a while."
I stepped out of the kitchen and immediately spotted Silvano sitting in the living room, his powerful frame somehow making our oversized leather sofa seem small. He was reading what appeared to be territorial reports, his dark brows drawn together in concentration.
He glanced up as I entered, our eyes meeting briefly before he deliberately returned his attention to the papers. The bond between us hummed with tension, with all the things unsaid.
I hesitated. Once, I would have crossed the room without hesitation, settling beside him, content to simply be in his presence even if we didn’t speak. I would have brought him coffee exactly how he liked it, or maybe just rested my hand on his shoulder as I passed.
But now... there was nothing left to say between us. Nothing that wouldn’t lead to more pain.
I turned toward the stairs, and Silvano made no move to stop me. Strangely, he hadn’t mentioned the incident with Aurora at all. I’d expected his Alpha voice, demanding explanations about how Johnny and I had supposedly "cornered" his precious assistant. But there was nothing—just this heavy silence.
Before I’d reached the top of the stairs, Isabella’s door opened. She emerged looking pale but determined, her small face brightening when she spotted me.
"Mom, I’m hungry," she said, her voice still raspy from her illness. "Is the porridge ready?"

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