Chapter 146: She Is Our Daughter

Richard let out a humorless snort.

"If you’re bored, why come here?"

Kristoff didn’t even hesitate.

"Because Isobel is here."

The answer was so matter-of-fact that it caught Richard off guard.

Before he could fire back, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He frowned when he saw the caller ID.

"Hello?"

He listened for a few seconds, his expression turning serious.

"I’ll be right there."

Ending the call, Richard slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to Isobel.

"I have to take care of something."

He gently ruffled her hair before giving her one last reassuring smile.

"Rest well. I’ll come back later."

A small smile appeared on Isobel’s lips.

"I might not be here by then. The doctor said I’ll be discharged after lunch."

Richard’s eyes brightened.

"That’s good news." A relieved smile spread across his face. "Then I’ll see you at the office when we submit the proposal for the collaboration project."

"I’ll look forward to it."

He gave her one last lingering look before nodding.

"Take care of yourself, Isobel."

"You too," she replied softly.

Richard cast Kristoff one last wary glance before walking out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence settled over the room.

Finally...

Kristoff leaned back against his wheelchair.

"He’s gone."

There wasn’t even an attempt to hide the satisfaction in his voice.

Isobel blinked.

"You two really don’t get along."

Kristoff merely shrugged. Then the faint amusement on his face disappeared.

His eyes settled on her, thoughtful and unreadable.

"You seem very close to Mr. Learson."

His tone was calm.

Isobel nodded.

"Yes."

A gentle smile softened her features as memories surfaced.

"He’s like family to me."

She looked into Kristoff’s eyes.

"More like... a father and an older brother."

"When I was little, he was always looking after me. Even when I was in college, he continued helping me whenever I needed it."

Kristoff stared at her for a long second.

Then, something inside him loosened.

The faint sting of jealousy that had been gnawing at him since Richard arrived disappeared almost instantly.

A father. An older brother.

The corners of his lips twitched upward. He almost laughed.

So Richard’s attentive gaze...

The flowers. The food. The hand-holding.

All of it...

And that was the role he’d been playing in her heart all this time?

Kristoff had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face.

Poor guy.

If Richard ever found out that the woman he wanted to court saw him as nothing more than a father figure and an older brother...he’d probably suffer the biggest heartbreak of his life.

The thought was so absurd that Kristoff had to clear his throat to hide the smile threatening to spread across his face.

"What?" Isobel asked, tilting her head.

"You look happy."

Kristoff schooled his expression almost immediately.

"It’s nothing."

But despite his words...

The smug satisfaction in his eyes was impossible to miss.

...

Kristoff had just turned his wheelchair toward the door when it swung open once again.

A couple who where in their fifties stepped inside, followed by a young woman dressed in an elegant cream-colored dress. The three of them carried an air of quiet sophistication that made them stand out immediately.

The older man’s eyes landed on Isobel first.

"There you are," Julian blurted, letting out a long breath of relief. "Looks like you already have company."

Before he could say another word, Leanne shot him a warning look and lightly nudged him with her elbow.

"Not now."

Ignoring everyone else in the room, she hurried straight to Isobel’s bedside.

"My dear..."

Her voice trembled with worry.

She gently cupped Isobel’s face, studying every inch of her as if afraid she might discover another unseen injury.

"Are you hurt anywhere? Does anything still hurt?"

"I’m fine, Mom," Isobel replied with an embarrassed smile, her cheeks flushing pink.

The word still felt unfamiliar on her tongue. She wasn’t used to calling someone Mom.

Relief instantly washed over Leanne’s face.

"Thank goodness."

She brushed a loose strand of hair away from Isobel’s forehead before letting out the breath she’d apparently been holding since last night.

"You nearly scared us to death."

Julian walked over, his stern expression softening the moment he looked at Isobel.

"We’re here to take you home."

He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

"You really know how to make old people worry."

Although his tone carried a hint of reproach, the concern in his eyes betrayed him completely.

A warm smile spread across Isobel’s face.

"I’m sorry."

Across the room, Kristoff sat frozen in his wheelchair. His brows slowly knitted together.

Mom?

His gaze shifted from Isobel to Leanne. Then to Julian.

The concern on their faces...

The tenderness in their voices...

None of it looked forced.

It wasn’t an act.

It was the genuine worry of parents who had spent an agonizing night fearing for their daughter.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Did I hear that correctly?

Just moments ago, Isobel had called Leanne Mom.

And now Julian was talking about taking her home.

Since when...

Did Isobel have parents?

Then it hit Kristoff.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as recognition dawned on him.

They’re Morgan’s parents.

He had met them countless times at business gatherings and family events.

There was no mistaking them.

But...

Why were they here?

His gaze drifted from Julian and Leanne to Isobel.

A strange feeling settled in his chest.

Something wasn’t adding up.

Unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he spoke.

"Mr. Foster... Mrs. Foster."

The three of them turned toward him.

"What are you doing here?"

Julian looked at him as though the answer were obvious.

"We’re here to take Isobel home."

Kristoff’s brows drew together.

"Take... Isobel home?"

Leanne smiled as she gently squeezed Isobel’s hand.

"Of course," she said warmly. "She’s our daughter."

For the first time in a long while, Kristoff found himself genuinely stunned.

His usually composed expression cracked, if only for a fleeting second.