Rowan choked on her sip of coffee sharp, sudden cough that made her eyes water. She set the mug down too quickly, liquid sloshing.
"Uh sorry," she managed, throat burning. "Coffee went down wrong."
She tried to pivot fast.
"Actually, speaking of work, I've got this new patient case coming up tomorrow complicated detox protocol. I should probably review the charts tonight."
But the women weren't deterred.
Clara waved a hand.
"Oh, work can wait a little. You're always working, Ro. You deserve happiness outside the hospital. Marriage isn't a distraction it's a partnership. Carlos, tell her you've been thinking about it too."
Carlos's smile faltered just a flicker but he recovered quickly. "Yeah… we've talked about the future. It's… something to consider."
Mrs. Delgado beamed.
"See? He's already thinking about it. You two are at the perfect age. No need to rush, but no need to wait forever either."
Rowan's pulse hammered in her ears.
The room felt smaller, the couch cushions too soft, the air too thick with perfume and expectation.
She could feel Carlos's quiet tension beside her the way he hadn't looked directly at her since the lie about their "good" date.
She forced another cough smaller this time and stood abruptly.
"I... I really need to rest now," she said, voice higher than intended.
"Early shift tomorrow. Long day ahead. Sorry, I… I should head upstairs."
Clara's smile dimmed slightly, concern creeping in. "Of course, sweetheart. Get some sleep. We can talk more later."
Mrs. Delgado reached out and patted Rowan's hand.
"Rest well, mija. Think about what we said. You two are meant for each other."
Rowan nodded jerky, automatic and escaped up the stairs without looking back.
Behind her, the living room fell quiet.
Carlos's face had gone pale smile gone, eyes fixed on the floor. His hands clenched in his lap, knuckles white.
The bruise on his jaw seemed to throb again under the living-room lamp.
Clara and Mrs. Delgado exchanged a glance puzzled, a little disappointed but they didn't press.
Upstairs, Rowan shut her bedroom door softly.
She leaned against it, breathing hard.
Marriage.
The word echoed like a threat.
She pressed a palm to her chest right over the spot where Isadora's marks had finally faded to faint shadows and felt her heart stutter.
She wasn't ready for this conversation.
She wasn't ready for any of it.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew: the silence from Isadora wasn't peace.
It was a pause.
A breath before the storm.
And when it broke when Isadora decided to speak again it wouldn't be quiet.
It would be devastating.
Rowan slid down to the floor, knees to chest.
She didn't cry.
She just sat there in the dark waiting for the inevitable.
>>>>>>>>>
Ryan stormed up the east wing staircase, footsteps echoing like accusations.
He shoved open the door to Mia's suite without knocking.
Bianca was already there, perched on the velvet chaise with a glass of rosé, Mia scrolling her phone on the bed in silk pajamas.
They both looked up.
Ryan slammed the door behind him, face flushed, tie yanked loose.
"That little bitch," he spat, pacing like a caged animal.
"She walks in, plays perfect for one dinner, and suddenly Grandfather's praising her? 'She's trying too hard'? Marcus practically patted her on the head. I've been grinding for years PR, board whispers, keeping the old man calm and one polished act from her and I'm invisible?"
Mia rolled her eyes, not looking up from her screen.
"You're being dramatic. She's still the same trainwreck. One good week doesn't erase the overdose headlines or the club footage."
Bianca set her glass down carefully.
"She's calculating, darling. She knows exactly what she's doing playing the redemption card to buy time. But your grandfather won't forget the past forever. We just need patience."
Ryan stopped pacing. He turned to them, voice dropping low, venomous.
"I want it all," he said.
"The property the trusts, the shares, the CEO seat when the old man finally croaks. And I want her too. That doctor. Blackwood."
Mia finally looked up, eyebrows raised. "The ER chick?"
Ryan's jaw clenched.
"She is… different. Quiet. Smart. Beautiful. I tried to talk to her, she dismissed me like I was nothing."
He laughed bitter, short.
"Now I can't forget her. Every time I see Isa smirking, I think about how she's probably got her claws in Rowan too. And I hate it. I hate that Isa might have touched her. Kissed her. Had her. While I'm stuck watching from the sidelines."
Bianca tilted her head, studying him like a chess piece she hadn't quite figured out how to move yet.
"You're saying you want the heiress position… and the doctor," she said slowly. "Both."
Ryan nodded.
"Isa's trying to take them both. The empire she's cozying up to Marcus and Everett, making them think she's changed. And Rowan she's obsessed. She's playing some long game to get her back. I can see it. If Isa wins either one, I lose everything."
Mia snorted. "You're jealous of your stepsister's girlfriend. That's pathetic."
"It's not pathetic," Ryan snapped.
"It's strategy. Rowan's not just some fling. She's leverage. If I can get close to her turn her against Isa, make her see how toxic Isa is then I can use that. Get Rowan on our side. Maybe even… convince her I'm the better option."
Bianca's lips curved slow, approving.
"You want to steal your sister's obsession," she murmured. "And her inheritance. Ambitious."
Ryan met her eyes cold, determined.
"I want what's mine. Isa's had her turn at being the golden child. Now it's time someone else took the spotlight. And if that means ruining her perfect little act and taking the woman she can't stop thinking about then that's exactly what I'll do."
Mia finally set her phone aside, smirking.
"So what's the plan, big brother? Seduce the doctor? Sabotage Isa's expo prep? Both?"
Ryan smiled thin, dangerous.
"Both," he said. "And more. Isa thinks she's the only one who can play dirty. She's wrong."
Bianca raised her glass in a mock toast.
"To family," she said softly.
They clinked wine against air.
Down the hall, Isadora's room light was still on. Peaceful.
Her phone lit up on her nightstand video call, Lexi and Jade already on the line.
She answered without hesitation, propping the phone against a pillow so they could see her sitting cross-legged on the bed in an oversized black hoodie, hair loose, no makeup.
Lexi's face appeared first wide grin, neon club lights flashing behind her.
"Doraaaa! It's been forever, bitch. No sightings, no stories, nothing. Let's meet somewhere tonight. That new rooftop bar downtown? Or the old spot? We miss your chaos."
Jade leaned into frame next, smirking, joint dangling from her fingers.
"Yeah, come on. We're bored without you dragging us into trouble."
Isadora exhaled slowly through her nose.
"Can't. Not allowed."
Both of them froze for a second.
Jade laughed first sharp, disbelieving.
"Since when do you care about 'allowed'? You used to sneak out of that mansion with a bedsheet rope when you were fourteen."
Isadora's expression didn't change.
"I have to."
Lexi tilted her head, smile fading.
"Okay, what the hell is this? You're caging yourself way too much lately. Board meetings, perfect heiress bullshit, no parties, no lines, no nothing. You're acting like a nun with a trust fund. What's going on?"
Isadora looked away from the camera for a second, fingers tracing the edge of her sleeve.
When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, but steady.
"I have to. Or I can lose Rowan."
Silence stretched across the call.
Jade was the one who broke it leaning closer to the screen, brows furrowed.
"Listen, Dora… it's better to let her stay on your temporary obsession list. Don't take her all the way to your fucking head, bro. You're rearranging your entire life around someone who shoved you out of her life and ran. That's not love. That's a leash."
Lexi nodded fast, voice softer but just as blunt.
"Yeah. Don't be that mature bitch's obsessed lover. You're Isadora fucking Ravencroft. You don't beg. You don't change for anyone. You make people bend. If she can't handle you at your worst or your real self then fuck her. You're worth more than playing house for some guilt-tripping doctor."
Isadora didn't answer right away.
She stared at the wall, jaw tight, thumb rubbing slow circles over the faint scar on her wrist from an old IV line.
"I'm not playing house," she said finally.
"I'm playing to win. If I keep giving them scandals, they'll take the trusts. Everett's already halfway there. Ryan's circling like a vulture. If I lose the empire, I lose leverage. If I lose leverage, I lose any chance of getting her back on my terms not hers, not her family's, not the hospital's. Clean slate. No excuses. She won't be able to say 'you're reckless' or 'you're dangerous' or 'you're seventeen and unstable.' She'll have to face me as an equal. Or she'll have to admit she's a coward."
Lexi sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"You really think she's worth all this? Worth turning yourself into… whatever this is?"
Isadora's eyes flicked back to the camera dark, unreadable.
"She's worth everything," she said simply.
"And I'm not turning into anything. I'm just… waiting. Being patient. Being better than they think I can be. When the time comes, she won't be able to run. Not without looking at herself in the mirror and seeing the liar staring back."
Jade shook her head, half-laughing, half-exasperated.
"You're terrifying when you're focused. You know that, right?"
Isadora's lips curved just the smallest, coldest smile.
"Good."
Lexi leaned back, defeated but fond.
"Fine. We'll wait. But if you snap and need us to break you out of that gilded cage, you better call. We're not letting you go full monk forever."
Isadora nodded once.
"Deal."
The call ended.
She set the phone face-down.
>>>>>>>>>
At night, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge downstairs and the occasional creak of old floorboards.
Rowan couldn't sleep her mind kept circling back to the dinner conversation, Clara's casual mention of marriage, Carlos's drowned expression when she left the room.
She slipped out of bed in her oversized sleep shirt and soft shorts, barefoot, intending to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.
As she passed Noah's room, the door was cracked open, a thin stripe of blue phone-light spilling into the hallway.
She heard a soft, giddy giggle boyish, muffled, the kind he only made when he thought no one was listening.
Rowan paused, frowning.
She pushed the door open wider.
Noah was propped against his headboard, knees up, phone held close to his face.
The screen glow lit his cheeks he was smiling like an idiot, eyes wide and bright.
"You didn't sleep yet?" Rowan said, stepping inside.
"I told you not to watch your phone too long. Eyes will go bad, and you've got that chem test tomorrow."
Noah jolted phone nearly flying out of his hand. He fumbled to lock it, cheeks flushing red.
"Uh yeah, sorry, Ro. Just… scrolling. I'm going to bed now."
Rowan crossed the room in two steps, hand out.
"Give it here."
Noah hesitated, clutching the phone tighter. "It's nothing. Really."
She didn't wait.
She snatched it gently but firmly from his fingers.