Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 163

Damian said, "You twitch your backside, and I know what you're thinking, Mrs. Cross. Your eyes can't hide a thing from me."

His teasing instantly deflated Isabelle's anger, and a blush slowly crept onto her cheeks.

It wasn't about giving Celeste a ride that upset her. It was how Damian, who was always finding something to talk about, just went completely silent the whole way.

Even during their usual little spats, he'd always fill the space with pointless chatter. But today, for nearly the entire hour-long drive, his mouth might as well have been sealed shut by a spell.

And whenever she tried to bring up a topic, intentionally or not, his replies were short and final, leaving the conversation dead.

It just felt awful. Uncomfortable.

He probably thinks I'm not worth the effort.

Isabelle pressed her lips together, holding back the words.

If that was how it was, then maybe she shouldn't even bother telling him about Muddlehead. She'd almost brought it up several times, but stopped herself each time. Now she just didn't want to.

Damian was a man worth billions of dollars. He wouldn't care whether Isabelle had money or what she did. He probably just wanted her.

"I won't give her a ride next time, okay?" Damian said, watching her pouting lips.

Isabelle gave a faint smile and nodded, staying quiet.

Damian couldn't tell if she was really over it. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her hard, giving her lower lip a light, punishing nip.

Isabelle pushed him away gently. The anger had faded, replaced by a feeling of pathetic frustration.

When they first got married, Isabelle never intended to develop real feelings.

But somehow, along the way, they just happened.

Isabelle clenched her jaw, feeling swayed by emotions.

Remember. Don't lose yourself in love. Keep your priorities straight. Always put yourself first.

Don't be so jealous.

Just as they finished talking and were about to drive off for their alone time, his phone rang—a call from Celeste.

Isabelle glanced at it, then looked away.

Damian answered, putting it on speaker.

"Mr. Cross..." Celeste's voice sounded strained, tinged with what seemed like a sob.

"Ms. Snow," Damian replied, his tone flat.

"I'm so sorry to bother you. I really didn't want to, but..." A pained groan came through the phone.

"Ms. Snow." His voice held a hint of tension now, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

What's going on? Isabelle felt a spike of concern.

"I hurt my leg. Could you... Could you come get me? I called emergency services, but..." The sound was a gritted, raspy struggle.

What perfect timing. But how could he suspect anything? It seems like men have always been drawn to fragile, delicate women.

It looked just like his expression now.

Please let me be overthinking this. It's Christmas. Who would cause trouble on a day like this? That's just asking for bad luck.

On the counter sat a package of ravioli, still partially frozen.

She must have slipped while reaching for something and cut her leg on the broken glass.

Without overthinking it, Isabelle quickly scanned the area, ensuring no other appliances were left on, before rushing back out.

By the time she reached the car, Damian had already fetched the first-aid kit from the trunk and was applying a gauze bandage to stem the bleeding. The cut was too large for proper treatment here—this was just a temporary fix.

"Get in the car," Damian said to Isabelle.

She didn't delay, quickly taking her seat.

Celeste leaned back in the rear seat, breathing in shallow, pained gasps.

She looked at her leg—her stockings were torn by the glass, her high heel was still in the kitchen, her left foot was covered in blood, and the gash on her calf looked about four inches long.

Then she shivered violently.

Isabelle felt a cold sweat just looking at it.

This doesn't look staged.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Cross, Mrs. Cross..." Celeste forced the words out through gritted teeth, her face pale. "For troubling you again..." She managed a weak, pained smile.

"Save your strength. Don't talk," Damian replied evenly, his focus on the road.