Chapter 154: Homecoming

<two more weeks later>

The black leather headrest of the SUV vibrated against the back of Isabella’s head, a steady, low hum that vibrated through her jaw.

She stared out the tinted side window. Outside, the world was no longer just a wall of blackness, nor was it the thick, milky fog that had trapped her for the first few weeks after the operation.

Four weeks had passed since the surgeon worked on her eyes. Four weeks of drop schedules, resting, and waiting.

She held her right hand up in front of her face, hovering her fingers five inches from her nose. She could see them.

Not as vague, smudged shadows, but as actual fingers. She saw the faint pink curves of her fingernails, the pale skin over her knuckles, and the way the weak sunlight hit the side of her thumb.

Her chest tightened. It wasn’t perfect. The far edges of the dark car interior were soft and fuzzy around the borders, like looking through a glass that had been wiped with a greasy rag.

If she stared at a sharp point for too long, a dull ache started right behind her temples, making her eyes water and strain. But she could see her hand.

After three years of living in the dark, trapped in the Kingston estate as Kian’s wife with nothing to guide her but walls and carpet edges, she could see her own skin again.

"You’re going to give yourself a headache if you keep doing that," Aaron’s voice came from the seat beside her.

Isabella dropped her hand, turning her head toward him.

He was sitting back against the dark leather, a sleek black phone pressed to his ear.

Four weeks ago, he had been nothing more than a deep, heavy voice, a warm hand on her waist, and the sharp scent of cedar and cold air. Now, she could see him.

He was wearing a dark grey coat over a black shirt. His hair was thick and blonde, caught by the cool light coming through the front windshield. His jaw was sharp and smooth while his eyes were a pale, striking blue.

She could see the line of his nose, the heavy set of his shoulders, and the way his long fingers held the phone.

He was handsome... too handsome infact... far more handsome than she had remembered from the old days, back before everything fell apart.

Every time she looked at his face, her heart pulled in two different directions.

Part of her wanted to look away, terrified of how easy it was to let him in. But another part, a quiet, traitorous part deep inside her, just wanted to keep staring, losing a little more ground to him every single day.

Aaron lowered the phone, pressing a button on the screen to end the call. A slow, annoying grin spread across his face as he looked back at her.

"What?" she asked, her voice short.

"You’re staring, Princess," he said smoothly, sliding the phone into his inner coat pocket.

"I know I’m nice to look at, but the doctor said you’re supposed to rest your eyes, not use them to trace my jawline."

Isabella felt heat crawl up her neck, turning her cheeks a bright, humiliating pink. She quickly looked away, staring back out the side window at the endless rows of tall pine trees passing by. "I was not tracing your jawline. I was looking at the window."

"Right," Aaron chuckled, leaning back into his seat. "The window."

"Who were you talking to anyway?" she demanded, eager to change the topic. "I heard you mention the news. Don’t tell me you were talking to another reporter."

"Just my team," Aaron replied casually, resting his arm against the door frame.

"They were giving me an update on the press releases. It seems the media won’t let go now that they’ve finally caught wind of the date."

Isabella turned back to him, her eyebrows drawn tight together.

"The date? Aaron, the entire internet is talking about it! My phone won’t stop buzzing with notifications, and even the hospital nurses were whispering about it before I got discharged! Every gossip site from New York to London is running headlines about our wedding! Why would you confirm it to them like that?"

"Because it needed to be confirmed," Aaron said, completely unbothered. "People were asking questions. Now they have an answer."

"It was an unnecessary spectacle!" she scolded, her hands tightening in her lap.

"You made it sound like a national holiday! Everyone is talking about us. People I haven’t spoken to in years are sending messages. You threw fuel on a fire that didn’t need to be lit."

Aaron reached out, his thumb catching her chin and gently nudging her face up so she had to look him in the eye.

His blue eyes glinted with quiet, dark amusement. "Let them talk, Isabella. They can print whatever they want on the front page. It doesn’t change anything for us."

"It changes my peace of mind," she grumbled, pulling her chin back from his fingers. "I wanted this to be quiet. I wanted something small, something private. We don’t need hundreds of cameras and reporters hiding in the trees."

"It is private," Aaron said simply.

Isabella let out a dry, exasperated breath. "Aaron, your definition of private and my definition of private are not the same language. You think ’private’ means buying out an entire hotel or locking down a city block with armed security. I mean private. As in, ten people in a small room where nobody is taking pictures."

"Too late for that," he said, offering her a faint, unrepentant shrug. "The date is set. The preparations are already moving. Besides, you can handle the planning while you finish recovering here at the estate. It’ll keep you from getting bored."

"I don’t want to plan a circus!"

"Then don’t plan a circus," Aaron replied smoothly, leaning closer to her, his shoulder brushing hers. "Plan a wedding. My men will handle the rest."

Isabella glared at him, but before she could lay out another complaint, the SUV began to slow down.

The car turned off the main road, passing through massive iron gates that swung open without a sound.

The air outside had grown noticeably colder as they drove further north into the Russian countryside. It was late autumn, heading straight into early winter.

The landscape was raw and open. Tall, dark pine trees and white-barked birches lined the long winding driveway, their branches dusted with a light layer of frost. Low grey clouds hung over the sky, and a thin, crisp mist hovered just above the wet grass.

The SUV rolled across a wide stone bridge spanning a rushing river, then moved past wide stretches of land, horse stables, and greenhouse glass that reflected the pale afternoon light.

For Isabella, the estate wasn’t just a house; it was vast, sprawling across acres of thick forest and open land, cold and quiet under the November sky.

The car finally came to a gentle stop in the large cobblestone courtyard at the front of the main building.

Isabella looked out the front windshield, and her breath caught in her throat.

The house stood before her like a massive fortress made of rough black stone, dark iron beams, and heavy oakwood.

Enormous floor-to-ceiling glass windows reflected the grey sky and the deep green of the surrounding pines.

When she had arrived here months ago before her divorce, the house had been nothing more than a collection of sounds and smells, the scent of firewood, the sound of wind in the trees, the warmth under her shoes.

Now, she could see it.

It wasn’t a cold, sterile palace, nor was it a ugly block of concrete. It was grand, wild, and beautiful, resting against the forest floor as if it had belonged there for a hundred years.

"I didn’t think it would look like this," she whispered to herself, her eyes wide as she tried to take in every line of the building. "It’s... incredible."

Beside her, Aaron watched her face, a quiet warmth settling over his sharp features as he saw her taking in the view. "It’s just a house, Princess."

"It isn’t just a house," she murmured, her heart beating a little faster. "It’s massive."

The SUV door opened. Two guard men in dark coats stood outside, stepping back respectfully as Aaron stepped out into the chilly air.

Isabella unbuckled her seatbelt and reached into her small coat pocket, pulling out a pair of large, dark sunglasses.

Even with the overcast sky, the flat, grey light made her eyes ache if she stayed outside too long without protection.

She slipped the dark glasses over her face, opening her door and stepping out onto the gravel before Aaron could reach around to carry her.

Four weeks ago, she would have needed someone to hold her elbow, guiding her foot to the ground so she didn’t trip.

Now, she stood firm on her own two feet, feeling the cold wind hit her cheeks, smelling the sharp scent of wet earth, crushed pine needles, and firewood smoke.

She looked down at her boots on the light grey gravel, taking a slow, steady breath.

Aaron rounded the back of the car, stepping beside her. He looked down at her with an amused tilt of his head. "Look at you. Walking all on your own."

"I am perfectly capable of walking," she said, raising her chin slightly. "I don’t need to be carried everywhere anymore."

Before Aaron could answer, a loud, sharp noise echoed from the heavy wooden front doors of the mansion.

WOOF!

Isabella jumped, her head snapping toward the sound.

The massive, grey-and-silver shape came barreling down the wide stone steps, its heavy paws clicking against the stone before hitting the gravel with loud, thudding impacts.

The giant Caucasian Shepherd charged straight across the courtyard, its long pink tongue hanging out, tail wagging with enough force to shake its entire body.

"Oh!" Isabella gasped, instinctively taking a half-step back.

"Down, Boyar," Aaron commanded, his voice deep, clear, and sharp.

The giant dog skidded to a stop right in front of them, its claws scraping through the loose gravel. It let out a heavy, disappointed whine, panting loudly as its dark eyes moved between Aaron and Isabella.

"Boyar! Stop! Get back here!" Finn’s young voice yelled from the top of the steps.

He came running out of the house, nearly slipping on the damp stone floor. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, dark jeans, and sneakers, his messy hair hanging over his eyes.