A slick layer of sweat coated Isabella's trembling palms, betraying the anxiety tightening around her chest.

Across the room, Natalie's eyes flickered back and forth between Isabella and Pamela, panic churning quietly beneath her composed exterior. Since childhood, Isabella had endured relentless verbal and physical abuse from their stepfather, scars that left her tongue tied in moments like this. No one understood that fragile, cornered look better than Natalie, and the sight of it twisted painfully in her chest.

Still, the Evans family had no idea—nor would they likely care—about Isabella's traumas.

Out of nowhere, a sudden weight pressed down on Natalie's shoulder.

Nathaniel stood beside her, his gaze glinting with lazy amusement, silently warning her to stay where she was and not ruin his entertainment.

A faint crease formed between Natalie's brows as she subtly leaned away, trying to put even a sliver of distance between them.

Unfazed, Nathaniel lifted a brow, and then slipped his hand beneath her coat with deliberate boldness, his warm palm settling firmly against her waist, holding her in place with quiet, undeniable control.

Unaware of the quiet intrusion, Natalie kept her eyes fixed on Isabella the entire time, drawn to her fragile, trembling presence.

Breaking the tension, the composed and distant Alexander, seated nearby, spoke in an unhurried tone. "There was no mistake—that plate number used to be mine. Nathaniel wanted it, so I handed it over."

Caught off-guard, Natalie turned to the man abruptly, her breath hitching.

Was Alexander actually stepping in for Isabella?

What possible reason could he have for doing that?

No matter how she turned it over, Natalie refused to believe a man like Alexander possessed any real kindness, nor could she imagine that a single night together would stir even the faintest attachment toward her sister.

Though his voice remained level and detached, Alexander's words rippled through the room like a stone cast into still water, quietly redirecting the blame and easing the weight pressing down on Isabella, suggesting the fault did not rest solely on her shoulders.

Pamela's sharp, assessing gaze drifted from Isabella to her eldest son, a trace of silent questioning in her eyes.

Beside him, Isabella also stared at Alexander in a stunned haze.

A sharp sting rose in her nose, and she quickly lowered her head, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling.

For a brief moment, Pamela fell silent in thought.

Ordinarily, girls from families like theirs would never have entered her consideration. Still, her mother-in-law, Celine Evans, was critically ill, and more than anything, Celine longed to see Alexander settled and married before her time was up.

Finding a bride willing to go along with their family's demand—getting pregnant before the wedding—was no easy task.

After digging around for a while, Pamela finally found the Brown family.

Natalie struck her as sharp and levelheaded. With the right polish, Pamela believed the girl could be shaped into a presentable Mrs. Evans for Alexander, her proud eldest son.

In Pamela's eyes, a household like the Evans family, standing where they did now, benefited far more from a compliant daughter-in-law than from some strategic marriage alliance.

Daughters raised in powerful, wealthy families were usually spoiled from birth, and Pamela knew that if she tried to rein them in, they would only grow bitter and rebellious.

She had always believed Alexander's ambitions did not need a woman to prop them up. What he needed was a wife who listened.

For that reason, Pamela approved of Natalie. When Natalie suggested that Isabella be married into the Evans family as well, Pamela agreed after some consideration.

To Pamela, Isabella's soft, yielding nature made her the perfect choice to smooth out Nathaniel's unruly temperament.

The thought of training two daughters-in-law herself delighted Pamela, and that satisfaction made her decision come easily.

Then her sharp eyes settled on Natalie. "You know I picked you for Alex from the start. This wasn't the outcome I wanted. But since you and Nathan have already... Your marrying Alex is no longer possible. Are you willing to marry Nathan instead?"

At her waist, the hand resting there tightened just enough to feel like a quiet threat. Natalie lifted her eyes and met Nathaniel's teasing, unreadable stare.

She had a strong feeling the man was doing this on purpose, just to toy with her again.

Drawing in a slow breath, she forced down the storm of emotion twisting through her chest.

With things having reached this point, remaining with the Evans family was her only real choice, and it was still far better than being dragged back to the Brown family.

As for her future husband, without any feelings involved, it made no difference to her.

"I am," Natalie remarked, lifting her chin and meeting Pamela's gaze with quiet, steady resolve. "I'll accept the Evans family's decision and marry Nathaniel."

Approval flickered in Pamela's eyes, and she gave a small nod. "Very well."

"Mrs. Evans, about my sister…" Natalie brought up cautiously.

At once, Pamela's face turned even colder. "What's done is done. We'll see whether Alex is willing to keep her."

Off to the side, Isabella cautiously looked toward Alexander when she heard that.

What he had said that morning echoed in her mind—"And what makes you think I would take the time to teach you?"

A faint chill ran through Isabella. She was still afraid of Alexander, yet deep down, she desperately wanted to stay. Would he agree?

"She'll stay," Alexander said curtly, his gaze brushing over Isabella's strained, uneasy face without the slightest trace of warmth.

In an instant, the tight knot in Isabella's chest loosened. Her fingertips pressed quietly into her palm as she lowered her head, trying to conceal the tears shimmering at the edge of her eyes.

Rising to her feet with crisp authority, Pamela spoke in a tone that brooked no resistance. "Since everything's settled, Isabella will marry Alex, and Natalie will be with Nathan. But remember what I told you—Alex is already past thirty."

Her sharp gaze shifted to Isabella as she added coolly, "You need to conceive as soon as possible. Now that you're with Alex, I'll be holding you to a higher standard. If you can't even stand beside your husband at social events, then you can start preparing for a divorce within three months."

A subtle tremor ran through Isabella's delicate shoulders, barely visible beneath her composure, as she lowered her eyes and answered softly, "Understood, Mrs. Evans… I'll work hard to learn."

Upon seeing her fragile attempt to stay steady, Alexander's expression dimmed almost imperceptibly, a shadow crossing his gaze, though he chose to remain silent.

Some of the sharpness drained from Pamela's face, her tone easing now that she'd made her point. "Once the marriage is registered, you'll officially be part of the Evans family."

…

Stepping out of the Evans Estate, the two newly formed couples parted ways, each heading toward their own waiting car.

With quiet precision, Alexander pulled open the rear door for Isabella, his movements composed and unhurried. Offering a quiet thanks, she slipped inside and instinctively pressed herself toward the window, shrinking into the corner.

Through the glass, her gaze clung to the car ahead, knowing her sister sat inside it, bound for the same destination—the courthouse.

Drawing in a slow breath, Isabella tried to anchor herself, silently repeating that as long as her sister was near, she didn't have to be afraid.

Yet the thought lingered stubbornly in her chest. Three months… could she truly endure it?

Breaking through the suffocating quiet, Alexander's low, measured voice cut in without warning, "I'll be back tonight."

Startled, she turned toward him, her wide eyes colliding with his unreadable expression.

Memories of his overwhelming dominance the night before flashed through her mind, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth before giving a small nod. "I understand," she murmured.

A dull soreness lingered in her legs, refusing to fade.

Nothing about last night had been gentle; when she had tried to pull away, he had simply tightened his grip, holding her firmly in place.

Her struggling only seemed to annoy him, and in the end, he had flipped her over, pressing her down against the sheets, trapping her beneath him.

The urgency of conceiving within three months made it certain—he'd spend another night with her.

Fear crept unmistakably across her pale features. That same expression reminded Alexander of how she had trembled beneath him, her soft, broken sounds echoing faintly in his memory, and his throat moved subtly as he swallowed.

Even so, when he spoke, his tone came out unexpectedly even. "There's no need to look like that," he muttered coolly. "If getting pregnant within three months isn't what you want, we can stay in separate rooms."

At once, panic surged through Isabella, tightening her chest. "I do want it," she blurted quickly. "I really do… You can come back every night if you want."

"I'm not the kind of person who acts on every urge." The tightness in Alexander's demeanor eased, her response clearly landing as intended. "As soon as there's an opening, I'll take you along to some gatherings."

Returning to his usual detached composure, his voice remained steady, almost indifferent. "Focus on improving yourself. The Evans family has no place for someone who contributes nothing."

…

Meanwhile, inside Nathaniel's car, the mood shifted into something far more charged.

Once Natalie settled into her seat and exhaled a quiet breath, he immediately leaned in, his tall frame boxing her in as a teasing grin tugged at his lips.

"So it looks like you're the one I ended up marrying," he drawled.

Instead of responding, Natalie simply turned her eyes toward him.

Unbothered by her silence, Nathaniel continued with a lazy chuckle, "Tell me—out of everything we tried last night, which way did you like best?"

Confusion flickered through her as she compared the two Evans brothers in her mind, unable to reconcile how they could be so utterly different. "The driver is still here," she whispered.

A crooked smile spread across Nathaniel's face as he tilted his head. "Relax. He's married too. You really think he doesn't know what happens between a man and his wife? Besides, you were pretty bold last night, weren't you? You had no trouble getting my clothes off."

Drawing her brows together, Natalie shot him a sharp look. "I thought you were Alexander Evans," she retorted. "I was only fulfilling what I believed was my responsibility as his future wife."

Nathaniel's fingers traced along the curve of her jaw, his touch unhurried. "Tell me, what's the real difference? Being with me still counts as you playing the role of a future wife, doesn't it?"

Tilting her face away from his hand, she answered coolly, "With you, it feels more like indulging your own entertainment."

At that, his posture shifted; the playful edge in his demeanor receded as he straightened, something sharper settling in his gaze.

Fixing her with a steadier look, he said, "You're hoping to get pregnant, aren't you? If that's the goal, then keeping me entertained is part of the deal, so you'd better start getting used to it."

A deliberate bite edged his tone as he added, "My mother's already impatient for a grandchild."

In his mind, Natalie was no different from the many women who had tried to win his favor before; the only reason he lingered in conversation now was because she still held a trace of novelty.

Interest, however, was something he could discard just as quickly.

Even though she had been his first, that fact carried little weight for him—it had happened only because his mother insisted he share a bed with his future wife.

Left to his own inclinations, he would never have chosen to touch her at all.

An unspoken irritation tightened Nathaniel's jaw as he said flatly, "I won't be coming back tonight."

Unease flickered between Natalie's brows, already sensing that the more she brought up pregnancy, the more stubbornly he pushed back.

Keeping her voice steady, she replied, "All right… just tell me when you plan to return."

Nathaniel's features tightened, flickering with irritation. "I don't feel like seeing you for a while. Don't expect me back for at least a week."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, though her tone remained composed. "Got it."

Their voices fell away, leaving only a tense hush.

After a long, restless minute, Nathaniel suddenly lashed out, his foot slamming against the car door. "Pull over. Tell Alexander to handle things for me—I'm not going to the marriage registration myself."

Without hesitation, the driver steered the vehicle to the roadside and brought it to a stop. "Mr. Evans, if you don't appear in person for the registration…"

"They'll manage without me." With a careless flick of his wrist, Nathaniel tossed his identification onto the seat, already shifting toward the door. Yet even as he stepped out, Nathalie didn't call out once or try to hold him there.

Irritation deepened, settling heavily across his features.

In his mind, Natalie became even more dull, utterly devoid of anything worth his attention.

Just as he started to swing the door shut, a whisper drifted from the back seat, so soft and fleeting that anyone less sharp than him would have missed it.

"What a lunatic!" she muttered.

Before he could even slam his foot against the car again, the vehicle had already surged forward and sped away from the curb.

Lunatic?

That woman actually had some nerve, insulting him to his face like that!

In a sudden surge of anger, Nathaniel nearly decided to call off the marriage on the spot.

Then he shoved a hand into his pocket, only for his expression to stiffen. His phone was still in the car.

He glanced at Alexander's vehicle behind them, thinking he could stop it and speak to his brother face-to-face. But in the very next moment, Alexander's car accelerated without hesitation and swept right past him.

Inside the courthouse, Natalie made her way to Alexander, her composure firmly in place. "Mr. Evans, your brother told me to handle the registration on my own and asked you to take care of the rest."

Alexander had already seen this coming. The sight of Nathaniel's car pulling off so abruptly earlier had already told him his brother was stirring trouble again.

With a controlled sigh, he remarked, "He's been reckless since he was a kid. I'll deal with him when I get the chance. And you don't need to be so formal—just use my name. We're family now."

Once he finished speaking, Alexander turned smoothly toward Isabella, his posture composed as he offered his hand. "Let's head inside first."

Lingering where she stood, Isabella pressed her lower lip between her teeth, her gaze drifting anxiously to Natalie. It was only their first day dealing with the marriage, yet Nathaniel was already treating her sister with such careless disregard…

Alexander's steady voice cut through her thoughts, grounding her. Startled, Isabella glanced down at the hand extended toward her. After a brief hesitation, she placed her own into his, her fingers tentative as she allowed him to guide her forward.

A faint warmth crept into her cheeks. Never before had a man held her hand so openly—especially not in front of Natalie.

Shaking off the fluster, she forced the feeling down. After everything that had already happened between them, this gesture meant nothing more than courtesy.

Drawing in a steady breath, she lengthened her stride, hurrying to keep pace beside him.

The whole procedure felt almost unreal. By the time she realized it, the paperwork was already done.

Somewhere deep inside, it still hadn't settled—she was married now, bound to a man she barely understood.

Casting him a cautious glance, Isabella saw Alexander slip his phone away before turning his cool gaze toward her. "You and your sister can ride together. The driver will take you home. I've got an engagement tonight, so I'll be back late."

"All right… understood, Mr. Evans."

After a brief pause, Alexander spoke in a low, measured tone. "You might want to rethink how you address me. It sounds off."

Isabella felt her fingertips tremble faintly at his words, her head dipping as unease curled through her.

In her mind, the word "honey" felt even more unnatural, almost impossible to say aloud, so she kept her lips sealed.

His cool gaze flicked over the subtle flush coloring her earlobes, and without adding another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

From where she stood, Isabella watched his tall figure recede into the distance. Only after he vanished from sight did she let out a slow, shaky breath.

When she lifted her head again, Natalie was already walking toward her.

"Natalie…" she called softly, the name slipping out with a slight, unfamiliar trace of hurt.

Natalie's gaze dropped to Isabella's hand, still clenched tightly around the strap of her bag, before she reached out and gently wrapped her hand around her sister's. "Come on. Let's get my marriage registered too."

A quick, eager nod came from Isabella, her lashes damp as a gentle flush crept into her eyes.

Keeping close at Natalie's side, she caught her sister's gentle voice drifting over again.

"I honestly don't see anything wrong with this," Natalie said softly, glancing at her. "Bella, you're here with me while I register the marriage. Even if it's arranged like this, it still feels… meaningful to me."

Emotion surged through Isabella as she wiped her tears in a rush, her voice bright despite the tremor. "Of course—I'll stay with you no matter what, always."

While Natalie moved through the formalities, the clerk looked up and spoke in a routine tone. "Miss Brown, you'll need to sign on behalf of your future husband as well."

Off to the side, Isabella watched in silence as her sister lowered her pen and wrote Nathaniel's name in the spouse column, each stroke steady and assured, stirring a complicated mix of pride and unease in her chest.

Deep down, Isabella found herself wishing she could conceive as soon as possible; she resolved to follow Alexander's every expectation, believing that even if she never earned his affection, she could at least avoid becoming someone he resented. She believed only then could she protect her sister for once.

Inside the car, Isabella clasped her sister's hand and longed to ask whether Natalie had suffered any mistreatment the night before, but Natalie only met her eyes and gave her a subtle, steady look that told her to stay silent.

Now that they had just married into the Evans family, the servants surrounded them on all sides, and anything they said could easily find its way back to Pamela or Alexander.

Natalie understood better than anyone how careful they had to be, so all she could do was soothe her sister and quietly guide her, hoping Isabella would slowly learn how to stay calm.

When it was time to separate, Natalie pulled her into a soft, brief hug. "Go home."

Just as Isabella was about to nod, Natalie leaned closer and murmured in a voice meant for her ears alone, "Nathaniel isn't all that smart. I can deal with him without much trouble. And even if Alexander scares you, don't keep letting him control everything between you in the bedroom. You need to learn to make the first move too."

For a split second, Isabella froze in shock, but before she could respond, Natalie had already let her go.

Back at Alexander's mansion, Isabella stood in the silent, empty living room and suddenly had no idea where she belonged.

...

Near eleven that night, Alexander still hadn't come back.

Fresh from her shower, Isabella perched tensely at the edge of the bed.

Earlier, a maid had guided her into the spacious walk-in closet, where she'd discovered rows of neatly arranged outfits—clearly prepared for her in advance. While deciding what to wear, color rose to her face the moment she reached for something a little too bold.

Delicate, barely-there straps clung to her shoulders, as if they might slip free with the slightest movement, while the silky hem barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Fatigue gradually crept in as she sat there waiting for too long, and eventually she eased herself back against the mattress, pulling the covers close.

The click of the door broke the stillness. Stepping inside, Alexander caught sight of the figure nestled beneath the covers. His hand lifting toward his tie paused mid-motion.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind—he was already married.

Hearing him, Isabella pushed herself upright.

Soft pink silk draped over her slender frame, the fabric hugging her waist before falling loosely, while one delicate strap had already slid off her shoulder, exposing a delicate curve of skin that seemed almost too fragile to touch.

As he drew closer to the bed, Alexander's tall silhouette swallowed her in shadow, echoing the suffocating weight he'd pinned her with the night before.

Under the intensity of his gaze, Isabella instinctively stilled, her breath catching in her throat.

"Still awake?" he murmured, his low voice roughened by fatigue, carrying a quiet rasp that lingered in the air.

After a fleeting glance into his eyes, she quickly dropped her gaze, fingers tightening slightly against the sheets.

A light, unexpected brush grazed her cheek, prompting her to look up—his loosened tie swayed lazily, the silk grazing her skin as he bent over her.

With unhurried attention, his eyes traced over her—lingering on the fallen strap at her shoulder, and then drifting down to her legs drawn together in nervous tension.

Curling a finger beneath the delicate strap, he adjusted it, his voice calm and detached. "I've had a few drinks tonight. Probably not the best time to try for a baby."

At those words, Isabella went still, the realization settling in that all her waiting had meant nothing.

Leaning in close, he lowered his voice near her ear. "But tonight, I'm in the mood. Is that alright?"

Warm breath grazed her skin, sending a ripple of involuntary shivers down her spine.

Faced with the question, she realized it hardly felt like one she could refuse.

Heat crept across her cheeks as she murmured softly, "Yes… that's fine…"

Lowering himself without hesitation, he claimed her lips in a steady, unyielding kiss. Fingers curled into the sheets beneath her as she hesitated, unsure where to place her hands.

…

By the time the night thinned into the early hours, exhaustion weighed so heavily on Isabella that even lifting a finger felt impossible. Relief flickered through her as Alexander gathered her up and carried her into the bathroom to clean her up.

Caught off guard, she blinked at his unexpected gentleness.

Curled against him beneath the covers later, Isabella felt the steady warmth of his chest at her back, her heavy eyelids beginning to droop as sleep crept in.

Out of nowhere, Alexander broke the hush. "What did you do today?" Following the sex, his voice carried a relaxed, almost lazy ease.

The question threw her for a moment, and she instinctively steadied her breathing before answering, "I… I didn't really do anything."

When he offered no response, she hurried to fill the silence, adding, "The house is so big… I just wandered around, trying to get familiar with everything."

An acknowledgment came from him, brief and unreadable, and the room slipped back into silence.

Natalie's earlier words echoed in her mind, urging her forward, yet uncertainty held her back.

Searching for something to say, she found herself at a loss, unable to bridge the distance between them despite sharing the same bed.

After a moment's hesitation, she finally spoke again, her voice soft and cautious. "Tomorrow… is there anything you'd like me to do, Mr. Evans?"

Alexander's breath traced lightly along her nape, close enough to feel. "Be ready at nine. You'll go to the hospital with my mother to visit my grandmother. I'll meet you at my parents' place."

"Okay."

"When you're in front of my grandmother, don't call me 'Mr. Evans.'"

Within his embrace, Alexander sensed how rigid she stayed, her slight frame unmoving, almost childlike in its restraint.

Considering the age gap between them, he found it absurd—he was twelve years older than Isabella, so of course she might have issues bringing herself to call him "honey."

Silence stretched between them, and just as he started to pull his hand away, preparing to settle back and sleep, her delicate arm slid around his, drawing it gently against her warm skin.

"Honey… Would it be alright if I called you that?" she whispered.

Loud music filled the bar and made it hard to hear anything else.

Nathaniel sat back in the booth, looking relaxed as he held a cigarette between his fingers, the end already half-burned.

"Hey, Nate, isn't today you got married?" one of his friends said with a teasing smile. "Why aren't you at home with your wife?"

Nathaniel put out the cigarette in the ashtray casually. "It's just a woman. There's nothing to be excited about," he said.

At that moment, Natalie's calm face appeared in his mind for no reason.

He still couldn't accept that she had called him a lunatic.

She would never say something like that in front of Alexander.

What confused Nathaniel even more was this. Why would she seem ready to take Alexander, but refuse him without hesitation?

He picked up his glass and drank half of it, trying to calm the restless feeling inside him.

"Hello, Mr. Evans, I'm the new bartender," a woman said.

Nathaniel looked at her casually. She wore a light-colored long dress that covered most of her skin, yet her figure still stood out.

Normally, he would've flirted. This time, her clothes somehow reminded him of Natalie, that dull woman.

"Leave. Tell your boss to send someone else," he said.

"Seriously?" his friend said, widening his eyes on purpose. "It's your first day of marriage, and you're already being loyal?"

Nathaniel found that ridiculous. His marriage to Natalie only happened because his mother arranged it, and there was no feeling behind it.

To him, Natalie was just a clean sexual partner.

That was all.

He sneered. "Loyal? I could choose anyone here, and they'd still be more fun than her."

At that moment, a man rushed in from outside. It was the driver who had taken him and Natalie to the registry earlier.

"Your phone, Mr. Evans," the driver said.

Nathaniel gave him a brief look. "So she went alone and handled the registration herself?"

"Yes, Mrs. Evans already finished everything and went back to your residence," the driver replied.

Reaching out, Nathaniel took the phone and leaned back, crossing his legs. "Did she leave any message?" he asked, sounding casual.

"Nothing," the driver answered right away, but then hesitated as something came to mind.

"Oh, right, Mr. Evans," he added, his voice dropping a little. "Mrs. Evans said... you should enjoy yourself."

A short laugh slipped from Nathaniel as he tossed the phone onto the table. "Tell her I'll make sure I do."

The driver swallowed and shifted his stance. "Should I pass that message to Mrs. Evans?"

Nathaniel looked at him with a cold expression. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"Got it, got it..."

...

The following morning, when Isabella opened her eyes, Alexander was no longer beside her.

She hadn't fully adjusted to his routine yet.

Even though sleep still clung to her, she didn't stay in bed. That habit had followed her since she was young.

When she walked downstairs, she didn't see Alexander anywhere. Instead, someone unfamiliar sat in the living room. The woman had long, smooth hair and wore neat professional clothes, paired with simple black flats.

Isabella stopped where she was.

Hearing movement, the woman lifted her head. Her makeup was precise, and her expression remained composed.

She stood and greeted her with a polite smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Evans. I'm Jasmine Nelson, Mr. Evans' secretary."

Isabella tightened her grip on her clothes without thinking. So Alexander had a secretary this capable and beautiful...

"Hello... are you here for something?" she asked.

"There was an urgent meeting this morning, so Mr. Evans asked me to come and pick you up instead. I'll take you to the Evans Estate first, and then you and Mrs. Pamela Evans will head to the hospital together," Jasmine said with a calm tone.

"I appreciate it. Give me a moment. I'll go change," Isabella said.

Standing inside the walk-in closet, she hesitated as she looked over the rows of clothes in front of her.

Everything there had been arranged by Alexander. Each piece fit perfectly in style and size, yet Isabella didn't recognize any of the brands. She also had no idea what would be appropriate to wear when meeting Pamela and Celine.

The only thing she was sure of was that the outfit couldn't be too revealing, and it couldn't look too casual either.

"Mrs. Evans, I can help you pick something," Jasmine said.

Hearing that, Isabella turned and spotted Jasmine.

Being Alexander's secretary, Jasmine had to know the Evans family more than she did, and in that moment, it felt like help had finally arrived.

"Thank you, Jasmine."

Isabella moved out of the way at once.

With steady steps, Jasmine moved into the closet and took in the rows of clothing without hesitation. Her gaze passed over several pieces before she reached for a light beige cashmere dress.

"This should suit you well," she said as she brought it forward. "The color is soft, and the design carries a refined look. It fits the setting you're heading into."

As Isabella accepted it, her fingers brushed over the fabric, and she paused at how smooth it felt.

It slowly became clear to her that Alexander had arranged clothes for different situations ahead of time.

Even though he kept his distance outside of intimacy, she had to admitted that no one had ever shown her this kind of care before.

He had even set up an entire closet just for her.

A quiet emotion rose within her. These things belonged to Alexander's wife, yet for a short moment, she was the one holding onto them.

"Thank you, Jasmine," she said softly.

A faint smile appeared on Jasmine's face. "Mr. Evans doesn't concern himself with these details, so I manage the wardrobe."

That answer made Isabella stop for a moment.

Noticing her reaction, Jasmine continued in a calm tone, "I chose everything based on your measurements."

After a brief pause, she added, "Of course, all of it followed Mr. Evans' instructions."

Hearing that, Isabella looked down at the dress in her hands and felt like something placed carefully on display.

"You've done all this so carefully, Jasmine," Isabella said with a small smile.

"It's part of what I do," Jasmine replied as she opened the accessory cabinet and took out a pearl necklace. "This will go well with the dress. Mrs. Celine Evans prefers a more proper style."

Watching the other woman handle everything with ease, Isabella felt a weight settle in her chest.

After marrying Alexander, she had become "Mrs. Evans."

Only when she was with her sister did she still feel like Isabella.

Pulling herself back, she quickly changed into the dress.

During the drive to the Evans Estate, Jasmine spoke in a composed tone. "When you talk to Mrs. Celine Evans, never to interrupt her. Let her finish before you respond. If she brings up children, just say you're not rushing anything."

Isabella nodded again and again, committing every word to memory.

At the same time, a question lingered in her mind. With someone like Jasmine, she couldn't understand why Pamela hadn't chosen her instead.

Jasmine was clearly smart as well as beautiful.

"Jasmine, you've helped me so much. Did Mr. Evans ask you to explain all of this to me?"

Lowering her eyes, Jasmine shook her head gently. "Mr. Evans is focused on his work. He doesn't spend time on these smaller matters."

Isabella pressed her lips together. That sounded reasonable; or Alexander would've told her himself last night.

To him, her situation probably didn't matter much either.

"Last year, I assisted Mr. Evans in choosing a birthday gift for his grandmother," Jasmine said as she turned toward her. "From now on, those responsibilities will fall to you."

Before Isabella could respond, the car had already slowed to a stop as it entered the courtyard of the Evans Estate.