Chapter 33

Footsteps echoed outside the door. Alexander was back.

"Dad!"

He strode into the room, making straight for the bed.

Isabella tried to set Sophia down to give him space. But the little girl clung tighter, reaching for Alexander while still nestled in Isabella's arms.

He lifted Sophia effortlessly.

As he held their daughter, Isabella caught the familiar musk of his cologne. Mixed with it was a delicate floral perfume she recognized instantly - the same scent Victoria had been wearing at dinner.

Isabella looked away and stepped back until his scent no longer surrounded her.

Alexander rested his watch-clad hand against Sophia's forehead. "Her temperature?" His voice was all business. "Any improvement?"

Isabella repeated the doctor's words mechanically. "The fever broke, but it could spike again."

He nodded.

Settling on the bed with Sophia, he frowned when she squirmed. "Daddy, your jacket scratches."

Without a word, he shrugged off the tailored blazer and handed it to Isabella. She took it automatically, then froze as the mingled scents rose from the fabric. The reality hit her like ice water - their divorce was imminent.

Once, she would have treasured holding his jacket, pressing it close as if it could bridge the growing distance between them. Now she set it aside carelessly. "I'll make chicken noodle soup."

With both parents home, Sophia perked up immediately. "Okay. Thanks, Mommy."

Isabella forced a smile and left. She didn't see Alexander's lingering gaze on the jacket draped over the chair.

Twenty minutes later, soup simmering, she washed up and hesitated at the foot of the stairs.

At the second-floor landing, she turned and spotted Alexander at the far end of the hallway, phone to his ear by the window.

"The fever's down. Don't worry." His voice carried.

Was that Victoria he was reassuring? Did the woman actually care about Sophia's wellbeing? Isabella turned sharply and entered the nursery.

Sophia slept soundly post-IV, her forehead damp with sweat. Margaret was dabbing it gently when Isabella entered. The housekeeper immediately stood, offering the cloth.

Margaret expected Isabella to take over as usual. After all, she'd always handled everything for both Sophia and Alexander alone.

Isabella shook her head. Margaret blinked in surprise but quickly resumed tending to Sophia.

Perched on the couch, Isabella asked, "The doctor left?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What did he say? Will the fever return?" She needed to know whether to stay.

"Doctor said it likely won't."

"Good." With Sophia recovering, her presence wasn't necessary overnight.

The soup bubbled softly. After a while, she went downstairs to find Margaret in the kitchen.

"Let me finish, Mrs. Whitmore." Margaret gave her a concerned look. "You look exhausted. Go rest."