Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 71

She had slept soundly through the night and woke feeling refreshed and in bright spirits.

After changing into her athletic wear, she headed downstairs for a quick bite.

When she opened the refrigerator, she was momentarily stunned.

Inside, neatly arranged, were several clear meal-prep containers, each thoughtfully labeled in precise handwriting.

Breakfast items, prepared proteins, pre-portioned seasonings—everything was organized.

The handwriting was unmistakably Damian's.

Had he done all this yesterday while she was dozing on the couch in the afternoon?

She pulled out the container labeled "Breakfast", which had individual compartments inside—golden hash brown patties, cheesy egg frittata bites, soft cinnamon rolls, and open-faced smoked salmon bagel toasts.

Everything was laid out perfectly.

He really is the type to act, not just talk. She thought, a soft smile touching her lips.

She took out the hash browns and placed them in the oven.

"Buzz—"

Her phone vibrated with a call from Brian.

"Brian, what's up?"

"Your highness, come outside. I'm at your front gate."

She ended the call.

Shouldn't he be enjoying his time off right now?

She turned off the stove and hurried to the front door.

There was Brian, leaning against a sleek white sedan, notable dark circles under his eyes.

"Your car awaits, Isabelle." He gave a half-bow, extending his right hand in a mock-gallant gesture.

Dangling from his index finger was a key fob with the BMW logo.

Isabelle paused, walking a slow circle around the car.

"This car..."

"Consider it your ride from now on, your highness." Brian tossed the key to her.

Isabelle caught it deftly, holding it carefully. This model had to start in a million dollars!

"I only asked him if I could borrow a regular car to get around in, but he..."

"This is the most 'regular' one in the lineup he was okay with. He wasn't satisfied with the first few options. I spent half the night going over specs, and only after a lot of persuasion did he settle on this one. Look at me!" He pointed emphatically at the shadows under his eyes, clear evidence of a lost night's sleep.

"Is it new?"

"Fresh off the lot."

"The sheer casualness of the wealthy."

"Hah, you're living the dream, and I have to go back to the grindstone."

"I thought you were on leave? Is he really that demanding, calling you back already?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow.

"It's all because of you." Brian opened the driver's door, gesturing for her to look inside.

"What does that have to do with me?"

Isabelle slid into the driver's seat while Brian took the passenger side.

Her eyes immediately landed on a small, fresh bouquet of tulips in the center console cup holder and a tulip-scented car freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

"Last year, Mr. Cross took a grand total of two personal days. This year, he's pushed a mountain of work forward, forcing the rest of us into overtime so he can free up a bigger block around the holidays."

"Not a word." Brian checked his phone. "Alright, I'll leave you to it. My ride's here. You enjoy your new toy. I'm headed back to the salt mines."

He got out of the car and strode briskly toward the gate.

Isabelle pressed her lips together, taking in the car's interior once more.

He'd rushed out last night—so this was what he'd been arranging.

But... How could he like her...

Biting her lip, she pulled out her phone and sent him a message. "Thank you. I love it."

"You're welcome." The reply was instantaneous.

He had time to reply immediately?

Then why did he never initiate contact first?

Puzzled, she drove the car into the garage and went back inside to finally have her breakfast.

*****

In the afternoon, Collin texted to ask if she needed a ride. Isabelle declined but asked if he could bring an extra racket for her.

Back in their school days, she used to play with the group often, but after graduation, they'd drifted apart, and her own racket had been lost or left behind somewhere.

"Downtown Sports Complex."

This was the city's premier members-only complex for tennis and other sports—the kind of place where money alone wasn't enough; one needed connections or a sponsorship.

The elevator ascended to the top-floor recreational level, where a concierge checked her in and escorted her through the glass doors.

She wore fitted gray athletic leggings, black sneakers, and her hair was tied up in a slightly messy but stylish high bun.

"Collin!" She spotted him easily in the small crowd.