The nurse couldn’t help but think of Logan Fraser as a true romantic.

He had been visiting a woman who was never going to wake up without missing a single day. Every three days, without fail, he made sure the flowers in her vase were fresh, unwilling to risk her opening her eyes to anything wilted.

Regardless of how wealthy or idle one might be, it was rare anywhere in the Empire to find someone who devoted such unwavering time and care to a loved one.

Once the crimes of the Everett Count’s family had been exposed and his engagement had been formally dissolved, Logan Fraser no longer concealed his feelings for Isabella. Once he learned that her memories had returned, the faint distance that had once lingered between them vanished completely.

His eyes were always drawn to her.

He did not hesitate to show his affection, even in front of others. He openly treated Isabella as his lover, and those closest to him had already come to regard her as the future duchess.

Although Logan kept her out of the public eye under the pretext of ensuring her safety, those who observed him closely could not help but draw conclusions.

Perhaps that perception had begun to form even while she lay unconscious.

The way Logan looked at Isabella left no room for doubt.

There was no longer any doubt about his feelings. Yet, since Isabella had once yearned so desperately for that very gaze, the present moment felt almost unreal, as though it might disappear at dawn.

The clearer his feelings became, the smaller she felt.

Logan Fraser.

A high noble of the Empire. One of its wealthiest and most powerful men.

The world he inhabited was elevated and unyielding — a place that no one could enter unless they were born into it.

Even when she stood beside him, hidden from view, Isabella found herself asking the same question again and again.

Was she truly worthy of standing at his side?

When she served him as his personal maid, she was able to accept whatever lay between them because she had already decided how it would end.

Just one day.

At most, a few fleeting days.

All she had wanted was to step beyond the existence of a nameless maid and become someone chosen, even if only for a moment.

As she watched the gentle duke from afar, all she wished for was a borrowed moment. But this was not the brief indulgence she had once imagined.

This was not a fleeting fantasy. It could not start and finish with a light-hearted resolution.

Logan had already drawn her into his life. Naturally, he spoke of a future that included them both.

The more he did so, the more anxious Isabella became.

The warnings that the Duchess of Fraser and Miss Amelia had once given her came back to her with painful clarity.

‘How long can this relationship truly last?’

Isabella wanted to be happy.

Yet she was afraid.

She had learned from an early age that the greater the happiness, the greater the pain when it was taken away. So she feared the day when this fragile joy might slip through her fingers.

She had grown used to losing even the smallest fragments of happiness.

During her years at the Rosedale estate, nothing she had cherished had ever lasted — not even the stray cat that the kitchen staff had been secretly feeding.

Not even that cat.

Not even the small doll that Young Master Vincent had given her after the cat died, which was later found ripped apart and thrown into the rubbish heap.

Everything she dared to love was eventually ruined, broken, and taken from her.

Despite knowing that Amelia was behind it all, Isabella had never allowed herself to show her hurt. She simply retrieved the torn doll and tried to mend it with trembling hands.

She stayed awake through the night, clumsily stitching it back together.

But in the end, she failed.

She still remembered holding that doll, its stuffing spilling through uneven seams, and silently swallowing her tears.

Life had never been fair to Isabella.

She had learned to give up long before she learned to protect what was hers.

If it was destined to end one day, wouldn’t it be better never to have begun at all?

Wouldn’t it be easier never to have known happiness?

“Are you all right? Shall I call the nurse?”

At the voice so close beside her, Isabella lifted her head. The nurse was watching her with concern.

“I’m all right. Thank you for asking.”

Isabella offered a quiet smile to reassure her.

I’m fine.

It was a reassurance meant for herself as well.

***

Knock, knock.

Logan, who had been working in his study, paused his pen and looked up. The door opened, and Scarlett stood at the threshold, asking if she might come in.

“Are you busy?”

“I’ve just finished the urgent matters. Please, come in.”

Logan rose from his seat and set the documents aside. Scarlett followed him to the tea table, studying him carefully as they walked. His complexion looked better than before.

Once they were seated facing each other, a maid entered and served tea. Scarlett lifted her cup, watched the steam curling softly upwards and observed the faint ripples on the surface of the tea before speaking.

“I heard that Isabella has awakened.”

Upon hearing her words, Logan nodded.

He had taken every precaution to prevent news of Isabella’s whereabouts from spreading, but his mother was an exception. After all, Isabella was staying in a hospital that belonged to the Fraser family.

“How is her condition?”

“She’s recovering. She’s improved a great deal, but the doctors say we’ll have to continue observing her. There’s no telling what aftereffects might appear.”

“That is truly a relief. If Maria were still alive, how happy she would have been to hear this.”

Scarlett took a small sip of her tea and offered a faint smile. There was a time when she did not welcome the commoner who had captured Logan’s heart. However, after discovering that Isabella was Maria’s daughter — the child of a woman she had long believed to be dead — her attitude softened considerably.

“Please don’t use concern for a patient as an excuse to visit. The doctors have insisted that she needs complete rest for now.”

He had set boundaries, preventing Scarlett from going to see Isabella.

He still remembered when his mother had previously visited Bella, and how she had not been satisfied with that alone, joining forces with Everett to publicly announce his engagement without seeking his consent.

Although she had not mentioned marriage again since the Everetts’ crimes were exposed, Logan knew she had yet to fully accept Isabella.

“Really now. What do you think I would say?”

Scarlett met her son’s firm gaze and let out a light laugh, though she had briefly fallen silent.

“You know better than anyone, Mother.”

Logan did not give in. Although the circumstances were different, Isabella was still confined to her bed. He could not predict how his mother would react.

Moreover, Isabella had only just learned of her parents’ deaths.

Her heartache was greater than her physical pain. He did not want anything to cause her further harm until she had fully recovered.

“I only asked because Maria came to mind. Affection built over years doesn’t simply disappear.”

Scarlett lifted her teacup calmly, seemingly unaffected, and sensed the unyielding resolve in Logan’s voice when he declared his intention to protect Isabella.

“Leaving that aside, how was the construction site? I trust you—you’ve always been meticulous with your work.”

She shifted the subject naturally. They spoke of the progress of the new hotel and recent social gatherings — ordinary matters. For Logan, who rarely appeared in high society, Scarlett’s insights were invaluable in helping him manage his affairs.

“I seem to have taken too much of your time. I should be going.”

Scarlett raised her hand lightly to stop the maid approaching to refill her empty cup. As she stood up, Logan rose to his feet and accompanied her to the door.

“I understand how you feel, but think carefully about marrying Isabella. There are many ways to be together without marriage.”

Just before stepping out of the study, Scarlett paused and turned back to him. It was something she had wanted to say ever since she arrived.

“You must also consider the position of the girl who would become your wife.”

Although Scarlett had withdrawn from public life after Logan inherited the title, she used to be Lady Fraser. She understood better than anyone else the responsibility and attention that came with the Fraser name.

Her hesitation about their marriage was not without reason.

Even she, born into nobility and raised to become mistress of a great house, had sometimes found life suffocating. How, then, could Isabella, who had lived as a maid, endure it?

The relentless stares that would be directed at a commoner?

The whispers behind closed fans?

The inevitable comparisons to Amelia, his former fiancée?

The title of Lady Fraser was not a position sustained by love alone.

“I’ll handle that myself. You don’t need to worry.”

There was no defiance in his voice, only steady certainty.

Scarlett held his gaze for a long moment, searching his eyes for doubt, but found none. Then, without another word, she turned and left the study.