Chapter 175: Their Protectiveness

Richard couldn’t hide his bewilderment.

He glanced at Morgan, hoping to find some clue in the younger man’s expression, but Morgan’s face revealed nothing.

His arms were folded across his chest, his stance guarded, his eyes fixed on Richard with the unmistakable scrutiny of a man who was measuring whether he could be trusted.

Richard turned back to Julian.

Why is he acting like Isobel’s father?

He cleared his throat.

"Sir Julian, Isobel isn’t a child anymore. She’s already an adult. She can take care of herself."

He offered a small, reassuring smile.

"She’s tough. She grew up in an orphanage, after all. She’s learned how to survive on her own."

Julian’s expression remained unreadable.

"Is that what you think?"

Richard’s smile faded. There was no anger in Julian’s voice. That somehow made it worse.

Julian’s gaze settled on him, calm and unwavering.

"And yet, she was kidnapped."

Richard’s face stiffened.

"She almost died, there."

The words landed like a blow.

Richard’s eyes dropped.

"I’m sorry, Sir. I was out of line."

For a moment, none of them spoke. The silence stretched between them.

Richard looked at Julian again.

And for the first time, he noticed something beneath the older man’s composed exterior.

Fear.

It was there only for a fleeting second, buried beneath years of discipline and restraint.

But Richard saw it.

It wasn’t fear for himself.

It was the fear of a man who had come dangerously close to losing someone he loved—and who had no intention of ever experiencing that helplessness again.

Julian’s expression hardened.

"So forgive me if I don’t find the fact that she’s an adult particularly reassuring."

Richard swallowed.

He finally understood that this wasn’t simply about whether Isobel could take care of herself.

It was about the people who cared about her.

And there was clearly far more to the relationship between Isobel and the Fosters than he knew.

Julian’s gaze softened by the slightest degree.

"Take good care of her."

Richard nodded.

"I will."

"And bring her home safely."

"I will, Mr. Foster."

Julian held his gaze for another moment. It was a silent assessment.

Then, apparently satisfied, he stepped aside.

Morgan didn’t move.

Richard looked at him.

The younger man unfolded his arms.

"One more thing."

Morgan stepped closer.

Close enough that his next words were meant for Richard alone.

"Your Aunt Su visited me at my office."

Richard’s brows drew together.

"She confessed."

Morgan’s voice was quiet, but there was nothing gentle about it.

"She admitted that she was behind Isobel’s kidnapping."

Richard went rigid.

For a moment, he could only stare at him.

My aunt confessed to Morgan?

Morgan’s eyes remained cold. There was no need to raise his voice. The fury beneath it was enough.

Richard met his gaze and nearly took a step backward.

"I’m sorry."

His voice came out strained.

"I dragged Isobel into this. I never imagined my aunt could do something like that."

Morgan’s expression didn’t soften.

"Don’t worry."

He paused.

"Isobel will be compensated."

Richard frowned.

"Compensated?"

"Ask your aunt about it."

Something about Morgan’s tone told Richard there was more to that statement than he was willing to explain.

Richard nodded slowly.

Then Morgan’s expression changed.

Not drastically. Just enough for Richard to realize the next words were about the past.

"I saw how much you helped Isobel back then. You were there for her when she needed someone."

Richard remained silent.

"If it hadn’t been for that," Morgan continued, "do you think you’d be standing here now, asking to take Isobel out?"

Richard’s breath caught.

The question wasn’t rhetorical.

Morgan was telling him, in the most indirect way possible, that Richard had earned the privilege of being trusted with Isobel—but that privilege could just as easily be lost.

Richard lowered his gaze for a moment. Then he looked back at Morgan.

"I understand."

Morgan studied him for another second. Apparently, that answer was enough.

He turned and followed Julian toward the dining room.

Before disappearing through the doorway, however, he glanced back one last time.

The message in his eyes was unmistakable.

Don’t hurt her.

Richard remained standing in the living room, watching them disappear.

His mind raced.

There was something about the Foster family and Isobel that he didn’t understand.

Something deeper. Something personal.

I need to find out what their relationship with Isobel really is.

...

Back in the dining hall, Isobel was still struggling to finish her breakfast.

She had already eaten half her toast and was hurriedly working her way through her milk when Leanne gently touched her arm.

"Dear, don’t eat so quickly."

Isobel glanced toward the doorway.

"But they’ve been gone for so long."

Leanne smiled knowingly.

"They’re meeting your friend."

Isobel sighed.

"That’s what worries me."

Leanne laughed softly.

"You don’t know how protective your father can be."

She cast an amused glance toward Judy.

"Your brother-in-law had a very difficult time pursuing your sister because of him."

"Mom, stop saying nonsense."

Judy, who had been quietly eating, finally looked up.

Leanne merely laughed.

Isobel shook her head, trying not to smile.

Of course, she did not know her father well.

She did not know yet, that when Julian Foster became protective, there was very little anyone could do about it.

...

Meanwhile, in the living room, Richard stood before one of the large landscape paintings hanging on the wall.

He had been staring at it for several minutes.

He couldn’t remember a single detail of the painting.

His mind was still occupied with the strange conversation he had just endured.

Julian’s warning.

Morgan’s threat.

His aunt’s confession.

And, most troubling of all, the inexplicable way both men seemed to care about Isobel.

Who exactly is she to them?

Footsteps suddenly echoed across the marble floor.

Richard straightened. He turned toward the sound.

For one absurd moment, he expected to see Julian and Morgan returning to finish what felt suspiciously like an interrogation.

Instead—

Isobel appeared at the entrance.

Richard forgot everything.

She was dressed simply in black jeans and a crisp white shirt. Her long hair fell freely over her shoulders, cascading down her back like a curtain of black silk.

There was nothing elaborate about her appearance.

And yet, to Richard, she had never looked more beautiful.

Then she smiled.

A warm, effortless smile meant only for him.

Richard’s heart slammed against his chest. Then it began pounding like a war drum.

All the questions he had been asking himself moments ago vanished.

The strange relationship between Isobel and the Foster family could wait.

For now, all Richard could think about was her.