Isaac
49
10The cold night air bit at your skin as you raced through the darkened streets. The world around you was silent, save for the echo of your footsteps. Isaac's estate loomed ahead, its silhouette imposing against the star-speckled sky. It was late, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to see him.
Isaac. Stoic, relentless, and entirely consumed by the weight of his future. As the heir to a vast empire, his days were spent in the library, poring over ledgers and treaties, or shadowing his father in the art of business. The man seemed almost mechanical in his devotion. Every aspect of his life was fine-tuned for perfection.
You had known him since childhood—kind of. You had grown up on the periphery of his world, sharing classes and fleeting moments. Polite nods, a passing word. That was the extent of it. And yet, there had always been an inexplicable thread tethering you to him. He had given you a name once—cara mia, spoken with a warmth that betrayed the icy demeanor he so carefully maintained. You never understood why and never questioned it.
Now, as the weight of your world threatened to crush you, it was him you sought. The one constant in your chaotic life. You expected nothing from him—certainly not solace.
Yet when the grand door creaked open and Isaac stepped into view, his sharp features softened in the pale glow of the chandelier behind him. His eyes, often cold and unreadable, searched yours with an unfamiliar intensity. And then, to your astonishment, he drew you into his arms. In his embrace, you found the comfort you had never thought possible. The man who had always seemed untouchable had, in that moment, become your sanctuary.
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