Chapter 134
The golden hues of dawn painted Isabella’s face as she stirred awake.
Her eyes immediately searched the floor beside the bed, but the space was empty—not even a trace of the makeshift bedding remained.
He’s already left, she thought, exhaling softly.
Stretching, she took in the immaculate state of the room, as if no one had ever occupied it.
If not for the half-melted candle on the nightstand, she might have convinced herself last night had been a dream.
But as she shuffled into the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, she froze.
Alexander was still there.
Not only that, but breakfast was already laid out, steam curling from the plates.
“After last night, Mr. Kingsley, you still had the energy to wake up early and cook?” Isabella teased, snatching up a fork. She eyed the meal—simple but thoughtfully arranged.
Alexander sighed, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his voice. “There wasn’t much to work with. Your fridge had instant noodles, eggs, and some sad-looking greens. Do you always live like this, Ms. Sinclair? At least hire a housekeeper. This can’t be good for you.”
He thought he neglected his health when work piled up, but Isabella took it to another level.
She inhaled the aroma of the noodles and grinned. “Smells amazing.”
His lecture might as well have been background noise.
She hadn’t expected Alexander to be so… chatty. Weren’t CEOs supposed to be all sharp, clipped sentences? Yet here he was, growing more talkative the longer they spent together.
To her surprise, the noodles tasted better than anything she’d ever managed to cook. Did he have some kind of secret chef skills?
“See, Mr. Kingsley, I was doing you a favor,” she said between bites. “If my fridge had been stocked, you’d still be slaving away in the kitchen. This way, it’s quick and easy.”
Still, she made a mental note to actually buy groceries soon. Life had been so chaotic lately that she’d barely had time to breathe, let alone meal prep.
Alexander chuckled, stirring his own bowl. “I suppose I should thank you for your consideration, Ms. Sinclair.”
She smirked. “You’re too kind. But seriously, how do you make instant noodles taste this good?”
“It’s just timing,” he said with a shrug, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
They finished breakfast in comfortable silence. As they cleaned up, Alexander smoothly transferred into his car, folding his wheelchair beside him.
The vehicle was sleek, custom-designed for accessibility—top-of-the-line engineering for seamless control.
Isabella arched a brow. “You really commit to the role, don’t you, Mr. Kingsley? The whole wheelchair act—flawless.”
“It’s not an act,” he said, his tone even. “I was paralyzed for a while. Old habits stick, even after recovery. Helps maintain appearances.”
Her smirk faded. She’d forgotten—his confession in the cave. She’d assumed it was just another layer of deception.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
She knew the Kingsley family had enemies. Alexander’s ruse wasn’t just for convenience; it was survival.
“Don’t apologize, Ms. Sinclair. It was years ago. I’m fine now.” His voice was calm, reassuring. Then, with a faint smile, he added, “Now, come on. Ride with me.”
Isabella scoffed. “Arrive at the office together? Please. Give it twenty minutes, and the entire company would be gossiping.”
“Then drive ahead. I’ll meet you there.”
