Returning with Triple Treasures: My CEO Husband Is Obsessed novel Chapter 4

Looming before her, Xavier's shirt collar was slightly open, revealing the tense line of his neck. His eyes were as dangerously captivating as she remembered from five years ago. Now, however, the bloodshot threads marring the whites made his gaze even more intimidating.

Isabella was stunned, her mind reeling. It took her a few seconds to find her voice. "Sir, you're mistaken. I don't know you."

"I recognize you even if you're in ashes."

Isabella tried to wrench her arm free, but Xavier's grip only tightened, hauling her impossibly closer.

Their faces were now mere inches apart. A chill seemed to emanate from his thin, pressed lips. After delivering his statement, he began dragging her forcefully toward a side exit.

"Let go of me! What do you think you're doing?!"

In her panic, Isabella did the only thing she could think of. She sank her teeth hard into the back of his hand.

Xavier hissed in pain and released her. Seizing the split-second advantage, Isabella didn't hesitate. Her hand flew up and connected with his cheek in a sharp, stinging slap.

Xavier's head snapped to the side from the force. He touched his lower lip with his tongue, the faint, metallic taste of blood blooming in his mouth.

"I said I don't know you!" the woman spat, her face flushed with anger and a haughty defiance. "Plenty of men try to hit on me. Back off, or I'm calling the cops."

The woman standing before him, from her expensive, razor-sharp attire to her imperious demeanor, was a complete stranger to the Isabella he had known. For a fleeting moment, genuine doubt crept into his mind.

Having delivered her rebuke, Isabella swiftly repositioned her sunglasses, turned on her heel, and walked away with a feigned composure she desperately hoped was convincing.

Just then, Jacob hurried over with a team of aides. "Mr. Moore... Quill's signal just went dark. The last confirmed location for Aletta was this immediate area, but the trace... It's vanished."

"Useless," Xavier bit out, his voice low and venomous.

His eyes remained fixed on the retreating figure of the woman until she disappeared around a corner. His expression was thunderous.

A moment later, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He let it ring twice before answering, his voice reverting to its customary ice. "Understood. I'll be there tonight."

*****

Heart still pounding, Isabella rushed back to the administrative office, ready to demand they use the public address system to find Jason. To her immense relief, she saw a school counselor leading a solemn-faced Jason toward her.

"Jason! Where did you go? I told you to stay right there!" The rush of fear made her voice sharper than she intended. She was torn between anger and the overwhelming need to crush him in a hug.

The little boy's face crumpled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, instantly dissolving her frustration.

The counselor offered a sympathetic smile. "It's very common for children to wander when they're in a new, overwhelming environment."

Jason seemed to absorb her words. A flicker of sadness passed over his face before it settled into a small, understanding smile.

He wriggled out of her arms, took the drawing, and deliberately placed it at the very bottom of his sketchbook. Then he pulled out another drawing—a detailed, loving portrait of Isabella—placed it on top, and carefully wrote "NO. 1" beside it with a flourish.

Tears pricked Isabella's eyes. She hugged him again, covering his face in kisses until he finally squirmed and giggled silently.

*****

Late that night, Xavier entered the private hospital suite, his personal physician, Harry Ashford, following quietly.

His younger brother, Noah, lay motionless in the bed, his complexion waxy and pale, his stillness so profound it bordered on the absolute.

"His condition has been deteriorating more rapidly these past weeks," Harry said, choosing his words with care under the weight of Xavier's darkening silence. "The blood bank has sufficient reserves of his type, but constant transfusions are a stopgap, not a solution. His body is weakening."

"How long does he have?"

Xavier moved to the bedside, his gaze falling on Noah's hand resting atop the sheets. It was a landscape of faded bruises and countless tiny puncture scars from years of intravenous lines.

Harry took a steadying breath. "At the current rate... six months. At most."