Returning with Triple Treasures: My CEO Husband Is Obsessed novel Chapter 7

"Xavier..."

"I don't need unnecessary complications. You will accompany me to Grandpa's house when the time comes."

Xavier wasn't asking; he was issuing a directive. The pieces clicked into place for Isabella.

Stanley was getting older. Five years ago, as the "perfect" wife on paper, she had endured countless subtle barbs and pitying glances during those obligatory family gatherings... all because there was no child.

Back then, Stanley had even issued an ultimatum: no heir, and Xavier would find himself cut off from the family's influence and legacy.

It seemed that in her absence, Xavier had not produced a suitable replacement, and the pressure from his grandfather had only intensified.

Well, for someone as emotionally sterile and arrogantly self-contained as Xavier, finding a woman willing to put up with him was a tall order.

But even if he remained a lifelong bachelor, she refused to be his human shield anymore.

"Xavier, your family drama is no longer my concern. I told you, I want a div—"

"The terms are mine to set now," Xavier interrupted, his voice cold and final. "You're the one asking for a favor."

Isabella was speechless with frustration, but before she could retort, a noise from the doorway cut her off.

The sound of hurried footsteps was followed by a soft thud and the quiet, rolling scatter of fruit.

And there stood Linda. She was dressed in a crisp, impossibly white designer suit that made her look more refined, more polished, than she had five years ago.

The memory assaulted Isabella—the charity gala, the dim hallway, Xavier's broad back as he held Linda, his usual icy demeanor melted into something unmistakably tender.

Her finger brushed against the cold, heavy diamond on her hand. She'd been "dead" for five years. It was painfully obvious who this ring had originally been intended for.

"Isabella?"

Linda stared, her face a mask of pure, unvarnished horror. She seemed unable to form another word.

Isabella snapped back to the present. She straightened her shoulders and walked toward Linda.

A perfect pair.

"Ms. Allen, there's no need for such drama," Isabella said aloud, her voice now light and mocking. "I was merely trying to show you the new bauble Xavier gave me. A token of our... reconciliation."

With a flourish, she slid the diamond ring off her finger. She let it tumble through the air, and it landed with a tiny click at Linda's feet.

Linda flinched, then stared at the glittering object on the floor. After a hesitant moment, she began to bend down.

Just as her fingers neared it, Isabella's designer stiletto came down, not on the ring, but on the floor beside it, the sharp heel a hair's breadth from Linda's hand. Isabella leaned down gracefully and plucked the ring up herself.

"Don't trouble yourself," she purred, sliding the band back onto her finger. "I couldn't possibly accept such a gesture. After all, I've already let you have my cast-offs for five years. It seems you still haven't managed to make them truly yours."

"Isabella, how dare you—!" Linda's face flushed with humiliation as she realized she'd been played. She rose, the insult trembling on her lips, but she bit it back, her eyes seeking Xavier's permission for a counterattack.

"Cast-offs?" Xavier repeated, the words so cold they seemed to freeze the air. A humorless, dangerous smile touched his lips. "Isabella. I dare you to repeat that."

In the deepest recess of his memory, she was still that simply-dressed girl who'd wait timidly outside his office, her eyes red from silent tears. The transformation was staggering.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Isabella replied, her tone switching to one of performative sweetness. "As they say, 'Don't air your dirty laundry in public'. As Mrs. Moore, how could I possibly argue with my own husband in front of... company?"