Chapter 321
Isabella noticed the intense gleam in Nathaniel’s gaze.
It sent an uneasy shiver down her spine.
She stepped aside and leaned against the wall to clear his path.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Why are you still standing there? You’re soaked.”
Nathaniel glanced down at his rain-drenched clothes.
Right. He needed to get clean.
He needed to feel comfortable again.
As he moved past, his shoulder brushed lightly against hers.
The contact was brief but electric.
Isabella released a quiet breath once he entered the bathroom.
His presence always made the air feel heavy.
Oppressive.
Now the room felt lighter. Freer.
But then that odd sense of familiarity returned.
The plush carpet. The large bed. The silken sheets…
Everything felt strangely known.
Frowning, she walked to the bedside.
Her fingers trailed over the expensive fabric.
It felt new, clearly replaced often by the hotel.
Yet it stirred something deep in her memory.
Unable to resist, she sat on the edge of the mattress.
She leaned back slowly, letting the sensation wash over her.
Images flickered behind her closed eyelids—swift and elusive.
She couldn’t grasp any of them.
The whole room seemed to pulse with a haunting sense of déjà vu.
Even the air carried a scent she almost recognized.
It was unsettling.
Exhausted and puzzled, she eventually drifted into sleep.
Nathaniel emerged from the shower refreshed.
He found Isabella curled on her side, asleep but restless.
Her brow was furrowed. Her expression tense.
He felt a pang of concern.
Quietly, he moved closer.
After switching off the lights, he paused beside the bed.
He knew better than to wake her—she slept like a soldier.
Alert. Ready.
So he lay down gently beside her, careful not to disturb.
And as he settled, memories of five years ago flooded back.
That night. That woman.
The darkness. The desperate fight against the drugs in his system.
He never reacted to women. Not like that.
But her… that stranger… he couldn’t forget.
He never saw her face, but he knew one thing—he would marry her.
But when morning came, she was gone.
Vanished without a trace.
His eyes drifted toward Isabella’s sleeping form.
How perfect it would be if she were that woman.
But life wasn’t that kind.
Isabella slept fitfully.
Dreams coiled around her like snakes.
A familiar pressure returned—one she hadn’t felt in years.
She woke with a start, heart racing.
Dawn light seeped through the windows.
Just a dream. Only a dream.
Thankfully, the worst was over.
Her phone lit up on the nightstand.
She picked it up.
It was a call from Beatrice Worthington.