Isabella Roscente had always been healthy.
Before college, she rarely got sick. Almost never.
Occasional colds would pass quickly after a day or two.
Even after starting university, before meeting Daniel Grant, she remained illness-free. At least, she had no memory of being sick.
But after getting together with Daniel, she fell ill twice.
The first time was shortly after they started dating. They had argued on the street over something trivial. In a fit of anger, she told him to leave. Back then, Daniel was painfully straightforward. He actually left her there. Furious, she got caught in the rain and became seriously ill. Daniel paid for it later. Besides taking her to the hospital for shots and medicine, she lay in bed like an invalid for a week. He had to humble himself and care for her the entire time.
The second time was during her pregnancy with Jacob. The pregnancy was unstable from the start. In the later stages, she caught a cold. Daniel put all his work aside and came home. He cared for her as if she were royalty.
Being sick is often about indulgence. Illness without someone to care for you isn't really illness. It's just something you endure until it passes.
But now, Isabella didn't want to just endure it.
She woke up that morning aching all over. Her body burned with fever. Her throat and mouth felt scorched. She tried to get up but had no strength.
So she lay still.
She heard no movement outside her room. Usually, if she was still asleep before Alexander Sullivan left for work, he wouldn't disturb her. Today was likely the same. He was probably already gone.
Every bone, every bit of flesh in her body hurt. The physical misery was so intense it began to break down her once unshakable will. She didn't want to care about Jacob anymore. Living was exhausting. Maybe it would be better to just die like this.
She didn't know how much time passed before she fell asleep again.
Then, after an unknown length of time, someone urgently woke her.
Julian Sullivan had obtained a driver's license valid domestically. He went to Alexander's place to borrow a car. He arrived a little after one. His initial plan was to just take a car from the garage and leave. But since he was already there, not greeting Isabella seemed impolite. So he went upstairs to find her.
That's when he discovered Isabella lying in bed, barely conscious.
"Isabella? Wake up! Please wake up!" He called her name repeatedly before her eyes finally fluttered open.
Her face was flushed with fever. Julian touched her forehead. It was frighteningly hot.
"Isabella, you have a fever! I'm calling my brother—" He pulled out his phone and dialed Alexander. He explained Isabella's condition. Alexander instructed Julian to take her to the hospital immediately. He would meet them there.
Julian agreed.
He hung up and quickly pulled back Isabella's duvet—
He froze.
Isabella was wearing a silk spaghetti strap nightgown. While technically clothed, it left little to the imagination. The curves of her breasts, the lines of her body, were all clearly visible. There were faint marks on her chest and neck.
He quickly averted his eyes and covered her again. He hurried to the walk-in closet and found a loose, long knit dress. Returning to the bed, he helped Isabella sit up. He positioned himself behind her, keeping his face turned away the entire time. He fumbled to get the dress on her, holding his breath as he fastened the buttons. Then he helped her out of bed and downstairs.
Going downstairs was difficult. Isabella's body was completely limp. Halfway down, her slippers fell off. He had no choice but to scoop her up into his arms. He carried her down the stairs, through the garage, and into the car.
He drove hastily to the hospital.
They went to the private hospital where the Sullivan family held shares. Alexander was already there, waiting anxiously at the entrance. He rushed forward when he saw Julian's car, opened the back door, gathered Isabella into his arms, and ran towards the hospital doors.
Julian got out of the car and closed the door.
He didn't immediately follow. He stood there, watching his brother's frantic retreating back. A complex expression settled on his face.
The doctor examined Isabella promptly. The diagnosis was influenza. The doctor prescribed IV drips for fever reduction and anti-inflammation. They prepared a private room for her to receive the IV.
As the medication finished, Isabella's fever gradually subsided. Alexander sat by her bedside, watching her. Seeing she seemed a bit more alert, he gently touched her cheek and asked softly, "Are you hungry? What would you like to eat? I'll have someone bring it."
Sick and weak, Isabella had no energy to engage with him. She ignored his question, turned her face away, and closed her eyes.
Alexander didn't press the issue. "I'm sorry, Isabella," he said apologetically. "This morning, I thought you were sleeping and didn't check on you. I didn't know you were sick. If Julian hadn't gone back today... who knows how long you would have had that high fever? It could have been—"
"Alright," he continued, "I'll arrange for someone to care for you from now on. To prevent something like this happening again."
Isabella gave a cold mental laugh. Who would he trust to care for her? The Sullivan household used to have staff. But Alexander feared the servants might pity her and her son and help them escape. So he had dismissed everyone.
Actually, part of her wished Julian hadn't found her. Even if she had died, it would have been a release.
Later, Alexander had some light food brought and insisted Isabella eat. After eating, she felt overwhelmingly tired. Her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. The cold medicine contained a sedative component.
"Sleep," Alexander said. "I'll be right here. We'll go home after you wake up."
Isabella closed her eyes.
Not long after, Julian quietly opened the hospital room door and entered.
"Brother."
Alexander gave his younger brother a grateful smile. "It's a good thing you went back to the house today."
"How is Isabella?"
"She'll be fine. It's the flu. Her fever has broken. She's asleep now."
"That's good." Julian smiled slightly. His gaze then fell on the clothes Isabella had changed out of—the nightgown and the knit dress. A look of embarrassment crossed his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks coloring. "Brother, it was an emergency, I—"
Alexander followed his glance to the clothes and understood. He smiled faintly. "It's fine." He walked over and ruffled his younger brother's hair, exhibiting an older brother's tolerance and affection. "To us, you're still a kid."
Alexander was exactly twelve years older than Julian. Isabella was eight years older than him.
Julian blushed, scratched his head, and gave an embarrassed chuckle.
Since Isabella was sleeping, they didn't talk much. Julian said his goodbyes and left alone.
Driving the Hummer he had taken from the house, Julian headed back to his hotel. As he drove, his eyes kept involuntarily flicking to the rearview mirror, glancing at the empty back seat.
Scenes from earlier, on the way to the hospital, flashed through his mind. Isabella had been curled up, miserable. Her high fever seemed to have clouded her mind. She had murmured, "...Don't save me. Let me die. I want to see Daniel... Daniel..."
Who was Daniel?
During their last meeting, he had sensed something was off between his brother and Isabella. Hearing her words today confirmed it. What was really going on between them?
Still, no matter the situation between his brother and Isabella, his loyalty should lie with Alexander. Any questions should be asked directly. Yet he had asked nothing. He hadn't even mentioned what Isabella had said.
As for why he remained silent, he couldn't quite explain it himself.