Chapter 60

LEVI'S POV
How could I be as cold-blooded as my mother? The thought gnawed at me as I sat on the sofa in the lounge, replaying my father’s words over and over. I cared—about him, his expectations, and this team. I’d sacrificed my investment banking job, the one thing that had always come easily to me, and poured everything into this team. Into his company. Into making his dreams come true, and I had done better than he ever could.

My father must have been drunk to say something like that.

I tried to shake it off, but the accusation lingered, wrapping itself around my thoughts like a vice. After sitting there for a while, I finally pulled out my laptop and turned off my phone. The last thing I needed was a call from my father or Elena. No more calls.

Now, I had to focus on work. It was the only thing left to do.

Work had always been my escape, and tonight was no different. I opened the data monitoring report the engineer had sent earlier and began reading through it. Every detail mattered, especially now. I needed to stay focused, to keep moving forward. After reading the report a couple of times, I wrote up my own analysis of the team’s race, which had been ongoing for a month, and sent it to my father.

Maybe it would show him I was still committed, still engaged, despite everything. Despite him never being a good father to me.

The celebration at the bar was supposed to end in the next hour. I realized I hadn’t made an appearance since my opening speech. I had told everyone to enjoy themselves and spend as much as they wanted, but I needed to check in to ensure everything was still under control. My team deserved to celebrate, but they were still under the media’s watchful eye, and I couldn’t afford any slip-ups, especially towards the end of the party.

I adjusted my tie and jacket and headed for the bar. I slipped in just long enough to see that things were winding down smoothly. My team was laughing and toasting to their success, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of satisfaction. But my eyes were searching for Isabella, and she was nowhere to be found. I needed to find her, so I headed back to the hotel, hoping to see her.

The front desk clerk smiled warmly as I passed.

“Congratulations!” she said brightly.

I nodded politely. “Thank you.”

Before I could head back to the elevator with the intention of going to Isabella’s floor to search for her, I saw her in the lobby with Franco, who was handing her a drink.

That’s it! I’ve shown enough control.

I purposefully strode over to them, and Isabella smiled at me as I approached, but I could tell she wasn’t drunk as I had feared.

“Boss, thank you for the party,” Franco said immediately as I arrived. There was something off about him. I gave a curt smile.

“Isabella, you should retire for the night. I have work for you tomorrow.” I held her gaze, and she nodded as if she understood why I needed her to leave.

“Okay, boss.”

She handed the drink back to Franco. “Goodnight,” she said.

Franco was about to follow her, but I held out my hand in a gesture to stop him, and he stepped back. “She has work to do tomorrow,” I said.

I watched as Isabella walked to her room before I left for mine, making sure Franco headed to his own room.

Back in my room, I let the day’s tension hit me full force. I took a long, hot shower, trying to wash away the weight that had settled on my shoulders. But even as the steam curled around me, the tightness in my chest remained. I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the cool night air hit my damp skin. The streets below were alive with lights, but from up here, all the noise and chaos of the city felt distant, muted. All I could hear was the wind, cold and endless, passing through the hollow space in my chest.

I sat there for a long time, my thoughts drifting to Isabella. She was the only person who could make me feel better right now, and I needed her. I picked up my phone and typed out a message before I could second-guess myself.

Mr. L: Isabella, good evening.

To my surprise, her reply came almost immediately.

Isabella: Master, good evening.

Mr. L: Is it convenient to chat?

Her next message made my fingers pause over the screen.

Isabella: Master, are you in a bad mood today?

The question startled me. How could she have guessed so easily? Does she know the truth now?

Mr. L: Why do you say that?

Isabella: When I am in a bad mood, I usually hope someone can chat with me.

Her words struck a chord, the subtle empathy in them unexpected. She was the sweetest girl in the world, and I needed to make her mine quickly.

Mr. L: If it is convenient, I would like to have a five-minute phone call with you now.

There was a brief pause before her reply came in.

Isabella: Can you wait for me for a while, Master?

I felt my breathing slow, slow, slow in anticipation. If I didn’t speak to her now, I might lose my mind, but I needed to keep my cool, so I typed:

Mr. L: No, Isabella, if you are busy. This is not an important matter.

But before I could even process her response, a video invitation popped up on my screen. I wasn’t prepared for it, but I accepted the call.

I laid the phone flat, pointing it at the balcony ceiling as I answered. She couldn’t see me, but I could see her. The image on the screen shook, making it impossible to see anything clearly. I frowned, leaning closer.

“Where are you?” I asked, trying to make sense of the blurred background.