Chapter 194: Who Is He?

For a moment, Isobel was completely at a loss for words.

How was she supposed to introduce Kristoff?

There was no simple explanation for a man who was, technically, her former lover—but also so much more than that. The truth was complicated enough without having to explain it to her uncle while he was still recovering.

Before the silence could become awkward, Kristoff stepped forward.

A faint, gentle smile touched his lips as he extended a hand toward Leon.

"Uncle, I’m Kristoff. Isobel’s friend."

He said it with such calm confidence that anyone listening might have believed the words without question.

Friend.

That was the safest title he could give himself for now.

He certainly couldn’t tell Leon the truth—not yet. He couldn’t exactly announce that Isobel was the mother of his child while they weren’t even married.

What would Leon think of him?

Wouldn’t he immediately label Kristoff a scumbag who had gotten a woman pregnant and then failed to give her a proper place in his life? Just like that man Albert, aka Julian Foster.

The thought made Kristoff’s jaw tighten.

Isobel, meanwhile, quietly released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

At least she had been spared the awkwardness of introducing him herself.

Leon studied Kristoff from the bed.

His tired eyes moved slowly over the younger man’s imposing figure. There was something unmistakably different about him. Kristoff didn’t look like an ordinary man. He carried himself with a quiet confidence that suggested he was accustomed to being obeyed rather than questioned.

Leon remembered the other man he’d seen earlier, too.

That man had been equally imposing.

A weary sigh escaped him.

His niece seemed to have powerful men surrounding her wherever she went.

And then there was him, her uncle.

A poor, homeless old man who had nothing to offer her except worry and burdens.

The thought left a bitter ache in his chest.

His gaze eventually returned to Isobel—and that was when he noticed the bandage wrapped around her arm.

His expression immediately changed.

"Bel, what happened? Were you hurt?"

Isobel instinctively tucked her injured arm closer to her body.

"It’s nothing, Uncle. Just a scratch."

"A scratch?" Yana suddenly climbed onto the other side of the bed, her eyes widening at the memory. "Aunt Bel was hit by a knife, Grandpa! There was so much blood!"

Randy immediately glared at his little sister.

He had been trying his best to keep Grandpa from worrying. Yet. Yana had just ruined everything.

Leon’s face paled.

"Bel—"

"It really is nothing, Uncle." Isobel quickly interrupted. "It’s only a shallow wound. Nothing serious."

She forced a reassuring smile.

Leon continued staring at her, clearly unconvinced.

But before he could question her further, the medication began pulling him back into sleep. His eyelids grew heavier with every passing second until, eventually, they closed completely.

Within moments, his breathing became slow and steady.

He was asleep.

Isobel watched him for a few seconds before turning toward the children.

"Yana, Randy, go back to the living area and finish your food. I’ll be there soon."

The children reluctantly climbed down from the bed and left.

Once they were gone, Isobel finally tried to get back onto her own bed.

She quickly discovered that it was much harder than she had anticipated.

With one arm injured, even the simplest movement became a struggle. She pressed her good hand against the mattress and tried to push herself up, but pain shot through her wounded arm.

She winced.

"Let me help you."

Kristoff’s deep voice came from beside her.

Before Isobel could respond, his arms slipped around her.

"Kristoff—wait!"

It was too late.

In one smooth motion, he scooped her up into his arms.

Isobel’s eyes widened.

"W-What are you doing?"

"Helping you to bed," Kristoff replied, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

He said it so casually, as though scooping her into his arms and carrying her around were the most natural thing in the world.

Isobel stared at him, momentarily speechless.

The teasing glint in his eyes only made her more flustered.

Then his gaze softened.

"It’s because of me that you’re injured in the first place."

Isobel wanted to protest.

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to blame himself, that she could manage on her own.

But before she could find the words, Kristoff had already carried her to the bed.

He lowered her carefully, almost reverently, making sure her injured arm wouldn’t be disturbed. His movements were surprisingly gentle for a man who seemed so powerful.

When he leaned closer to adjust the pillow behind her, Isobel caught the faint scent of his cologne.

Clean.

Warm.

Distinctly masculine.

Her heart gave an unexpected flutter.

"Tha... thank you."

The words came out softer and more hesitant than she intended.

Embarrassed by her own reaction, Isobel quickly looked away.

But she could still feel his eyes on her.

Why was he looking at her like that?

There was something in his expression she couldn’t understand.

Something warm.

Something tender.

As though she were someone precious to him.

Kristoff’s gaze lingered on her face, taking in the faint flush on her cheeks and the way she deliberately avoided his eyes.

For a moment, there was nothing but tenderness in his eyes.

Then something shifted.

The softness remained, but beneath it was something deeper—something more intense and difficult to ignore.

Desire.

Isobel’s breath caught.

She finally looked at him.

Their eyes met.

And in that single moment, the air between them seemed to change.

Neither of them spoke.

But Isobel suddenly became painfully aware of just how close he was.

Just then, the door slowly creaked open.

Morgan stepped inside, his movements hesitant, his anxious gaze immediately searching the room. Relief washed over him when he saw the old man lying peacefully on the bed, fast asleep.

But the relief lasted only a moment.

His gaze shifted to the bed beside him—and his entire expression changed.

There stood Kristoff, bending over Isobel.

From his angle, he looked like he was leaning over for a kiss.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?"