Chapter 978 A Gift for His Girlfriend
Accessing the castle grounds through the side gate meant passing through a series of security checkpoints and ID scanners before truly setting foot on the estate.
Once the six truck drivers had finished unloading, they were stopped at the perimeter—no outsiders allowed past that point. The castle staff took over, carefully transporting the enormous wooden crates inside, unpacking them with practiced hands, and arranging the garments for display in the reception hall, ready for the owner's personal review.
Escorted by two female bodyguards, Abella and Dennis made their way through the snowy gardens toward the elegant reception hall. Soon after, Abella's six couture pieces were brought in for inspection.
The reception hall was the same grand space where Isolde had once greeted her, but Abella's mindset had changed completely since then. Now, she handled each garment herself, arranging them with painstaking attention to detail.
Servants appeared with tea and pastries. Dennis settled into a chair without ceremony. "Abella, come rest for a moment."
Still absorbed in her arrangements, Abella barely glanced up. Dennis approached with refreshments in hand. "At least have some tea—it smells decent enough."
"I'll drink it later," Abella replied, her attention fixed on the garments. "Just keep those away from the clothes—don't spill anything."
"Then try these pastries."
"I'm not hungry."
When Isolde arrived, she found Dennis balancing a plate in one hand and teacup in the other, coaxing Abella to eat. Her eyes dimmed with surprise and something deeper. What was Dennis doing here? What was his relationship with Abella?
"Abella."
Isolde approached with practiced elegance, her impeccable attire and refined bearing commanding attention. Eight female bodyguards flanked her, each radiating lethal competence.
As Abella began to curtsy, Isolde interrupted gently. "We're friends, remember? I told you—call me Isolde, and I'll call you Abella. No formalities between us."
"Isolde." Abella's smile brightened. "This is my brother Dennis. We've had some family troubles recently, and he insisted on escorting me here personally."
"Family troubles?" Genuine concern flickered across Isolde's features. Though anxiety stirred within her, years of aristocratic training kept her voice measured and calm. "Do you need assistance?"
"No, thank you."
"I never imagined the legendary Dennis would be your brother." Isolde's surprise was evident as she recalled Dennis's earlier attentiveness—now understanding it as brotherly devotion rather than romantic interest. Their sibling bond seemed remarkably close.
Her gaze shifted to Dennis. "Hello. We haven't been formally introduced, though I'm delighted to meet you properly."
Dennis looked puzzled. "Have we met before?"
"At our family banquets and dinners hosted by my brothers—I saw you from a distance several times."
She remembered how he'd dared challenge family members, confronted her arrogant brother, even overturned tables in his fury. His defiance and audacity had been both shocking and captivating, planting seeds of admiration that had grown into something deeper. Yet Dennis had never noticed her—she'd been invisible to him.
"Ah... the banquets and dinners..." Dennis's expression darkened as unpleasant memories surfaced—occasions that had made him want to overturn more than just tables.
"Please bring fresh tea and pastries for my friends," Isolde instructed, her gaze softening as it lingered on Dennis.
Suddenly, Abella remembered Isolde mentioning a man she admired—someone with the surname Medici. Could it be Dennis?
"That won't be necessary, Princess. Once you've approved the garments, I need to take my sister home." Dennis seemed eager to leave.
Disappointment flashed through Isolde's eyes, though she maintained her composure. "Of course. Please, just a moment."
She moved to examine Abella's creations. "The finished pieces are even more stunning than I imagined."
Her every gesture remained perfectly calibrated, radiating warmth and grace. Under her appreciative gaze, Abella's designs seemed to transform into works of art. She traced the fabric with reverent fingers, recognizing not only the innovative design but the painstaking effort required to source such exquisite materials.
"Exceptional work. You truly are a design prodigy—I chose the right person." Isolde turned with a radiant smile that had made her legendary throughout the kingdom. Captured only once by photographers, her beauty had become the subject of endless fascination. Her features possessed the striking depth of European aristocracy, as if sculpted by divine hands, with porcelain skin that gave her an almost doll-like perfection.
"Since you're satisfied, we won't impose further. Come, Abella—let me take you home." His impatience was palpable.
"Please wait," Isolde said softly. "If you aren't pressed for time, would you both join me for afternoon tea?"
Before Dennis could respond, his phone rang. "Excuse me—I need to take this."
Isolde nodded graciously, her expression infinitely patient.
Whatever the caller said ignited Dennis's fury.
"I asked for sapphires, not whatever garbage you just sent me! Some dull, lifeless stones—you think that's worthy of my little treasure's neck? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Find something better!" He ended the call with barely contained violence.
Isolde absorbed his words with growing understanding—he was seeking a precious sapphire for someone called "little treasure." He had a girlfriend.
"If you're looking for sapphires, I know several exceptional jewelers. They likely have what you're seeking."
Dennis immediately pulled up photos on his phone, thrusting the screen toward her. "Do you have anything like this?"
The sapphire in the image was extraordinarily rare—far more precious than anything in her own collection.
"I can't be certain, but I'll give you their contacts. Is this... for your girlfriend?" The question slipped out despite her composure.
"Yes," Dennis confirmed without hesitation.
Abella could practically hear Isolde's heart shatter, though years of breeding prevented any display of her devastation.
"Of course," Isolde smiled serenely. "Bring me all our jewelers' contact information for Mr. Medici. Tell them he's my friend and deserves their finest service."
One of her bodyguards, aware of her mistress's feelings, hesitated. At Isolde's gentle but firm prompting—"What are you waiting for?"—she reluctantly compiled the information, her heart aching for the princess who had harbored feelings for Dennis for so long, only to discover he was already taken.
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