Chapter 2: The Suit and the Skyline
Isabella arrived at the penthouse before dawn the next morning, her chest tight with an unbearable weight. She had packed a simple, faded floral dress into a small canvas bag, intending to take the early bus to West Virginia. Her heart pounded as she planned the speech she would give her dying mother—the lie she would have to construct to explain why the man she promised to bring wasn't there.
As she unlocked the service door, she found the penthouse completely transformed.
Standing in the center of the marble living room was Marcus, Richard’s personal assistant, alongside two polished men holding garment bags. On the dining table sat a velvet box and a steaming cup of coffee—exactly how she liked it.
"Good morning, Miss Bennett," Marcus said with a crisp, professional bow. "Mr. Hale requested that you prepare for departure immediately. Your wardrobe has been curated."
Before Isabella could speak, Richard stepped out of the master suite.
The cold, distant billionaire who normally wore charcoal boardroom armor was gone. Instead, he wore a casual, perfectly tailored navy linen suit, the top buttons of his white shirt undone. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his expression carried an unshakeable, calm certainty.
"Mr. Hale... what is this?" Isabella whispered, her hands trembling against her canvas bag.
"We have a five-hour drive to Maple Hollow, Isabella," Richard said, his deep voice slicing through her panic. He walked over to the table, opening the velvet box to reveal a stunning, elegant diamond band. "And a boyfriend doesn't let his partner take a Greyhound bus to her sister's wedding."
Isabella's breath hitched. "You? But... you're Richard Hale. You're a CEO. You don't do family drama. You don't do small towns."
"I do whatever is required to settle a debt," Richard said softly, stepping closer until she could smell his expensive cologne. "For three years, you have protected my peace in this home, Isabella. Today, I protect yours. Marcus has cleared my schedule for the entire weekend."
Two hours later, Isabella was sitting in the passenger seat of a luxurious, deep-black SUV, staring out at the changing landscape. She was wearing a breathtaking, pale rose-silk dress that Marcus's team had brought—a gown that made her look like royalty while perfectly concealing the nervous tension in her shoulders.
As the concrete towers of Manhattan faded into the rolling, green mountains of West Virginia, Richard drove with practiced, steady hands.
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"My father will ask questions, Richard," Isabella warned, looking at the diamond ring now resting securely on her left hand. "He is a suspicious man. He'll want to know how a billionaire met his daughter."
Richard didn't take his eyes off the mountain road, but a faint, incredibly handsome smile touched his lips. "Tell him the absolute truth, Isabella. Tell him I was a lonely man living in a glass cage, and I fell in love with the only woman who truly saw me."
