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Chapter 8 - The Woman in the Silver Veil

Adrian stepped quietly into the room, his footsteps soft against the marble floor. Isabella was lying on the bed, her back slightly turned, the faint glow of her phone screen lighting her face. From where he stood, he could see she was reading something intently — her brows drawn together in focus.

"You didn't sleep?" Adrian's calm, deep voice broke the silence.

Startled, Isabella quickly locked her phone and placed it aside. Turning toward him, she replied in a composed tone, "I wasn't feeling sleepy… so I started reading some of my syllabus. My final exams are coming, and I don't want to fall behind."

Adrian studied her for a moment. Her excuse sounded normal, but something in her tone didn't convince him entirely. Still, he didn't press. She had already been through enough.

"If you really want to study," he said instead, walking closer, "you should use a laptop instead of your phone. The screen light from your phone isn't good for your eyes."

As his gaze shifted around the room, it landed on the side table — the laptop was open, faintly glowing in sleep mode. He raised an eyebrow, then looked back at her.

"So," he said with a faint smile, "you tried to use that one. Why didn't you just ask me for the password?"

Isabella lowered her eyes. "I didn't want to disturb you. You already postponed your work because of me today. I couldn't bother you again."

Adrian's expression softened. He stepped closer, his voice gentle yet firm. "Isabella," he said, "I'll warn you once — don't ever say something like that again. You are my wife… my only family. Nothing is more important than you."

For a moment, silence filled the room. Isabella felt a strange warmth in his words — not possessive, but protective, genuine. She gave a small nod, trying to hide the emotions rising within her.

"If you're done studying," Adrian continued after a pause, "let's get ready. We'll go to the hospital and see your father."

Isabella agreed softly, about to rise from the bed when Adrian's phone began to ring. The tone cut through the stillness. He took it from his pocket and glanced at the screen — David.

"Hello," Adrian said casually, his tone relaxed. But as the voice on the other end began to speak, his expression shifted. His brows furrowed, and his hand tightened slightly around the phone. Isabella, who was still near him, could clearly hear the deep, urgent voice on the line.

"Any updates about that woman in the silver veil?" Adrian asked evenly.

There was a brief pause before David's reply came through — loud enough for Isabella to catch every word."No, Mr. Frost. Till now, we haven't found any trace of her. Whoever she is, she's covering her tracks too well."

Adrian didn't respond immediately. He exhaled slowly through his nose, then ended the call with a single tap and leaned back in the chair beside the window. His gaze turned distant, the usual calm replaced by thought.

Isabella, watching his sudden change in expression, frowned slightly. "What did David say?" she asked softly, unsure if she should even ask.

Adrian met her eyes. He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The woman in the silver veil — the one who helped get you out of the Grace mansion — has bought twenty percent of Grace Group."

"Adrian said "I was arranging to buy them myself, to stop Roman from taking control. I had planned to partner with other shareholders to reach a majority. But before I could act, this woman stepped in and purchased twenty percent outright."

Adrian set his jaw and replied, "Current share districution stands like this: Roman Grace holds forty percent; Aurelia has five percent; twenty five percent belongs to a company called Blackridge Holdings — they never disclose the real owner; twenty percent is the woman in the silver veil; and the remaining ten percent is split among several managing directors."

The news landed like a blow. Isabella pictured her father's years of work, the meetings, the deals — all slipping away in a single day. Her hands trembled. "My father's life… his work… gone because of them," she whispered, anger threading her voice. "I won't let this happen. I won't let them steal everything."

Adrian's expression turned hard, but he reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. "That's why I was trying to buy those shares," he said quietly. "If I could secure at least fifty-one percent by negotiating with the other shareholders — the ten percent holders and Blackridge's stake if possible — I could transfer control to you. Put the company back where it belongs."

Isabella looked straight at him, eyes burning. "You wanted to buy them... for me?"

Adrian's voice was steady. "Yes. For you. For your father's legacy. Roman would control the company with forty percent unless we managed to combine the rest. My plan was to gather the remaining shares so decision-making would shift away from him. Then I would place the controlling stake in your name."

Isabella met Adrian's steady gaze, a new confidence burning in her eyes. "Mr. Frost," she said, voice calm but firm, "thank you for thinking of me. I appreciate it — truly. But I want to fight this on my own. I will ask for your help if I need it, but I will not take Grace Group as charity. That company is my father's life's work. I will win it back by my own effort and make him proud."

Adrian looked at her quietly. Deep down, he was proud — proud that his wife wasn't the kind to break under pressure. She wasn't weak or afraid; she was ready to fight back. But instead of showing that satisfaction, he took a deep breath and said seriously,

"Isabella, you just turned eighteen yesterday. You need time to understand the tactics of business. First gain some experience, learn how the system works. Until then, let me help you."

Isabella's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "So, Mr. Frost thinks his wife isn't capable enough to face the business world?" she said, her tone half calm, half challenging.

Adrian frowned slightly. "That's not what I meant—"

But before he could finish, Isabella cut him off. "You can think whatever you want, Mr. Frost," she said sharply. "I can't control that. But I'm forbidding you to meddle in my business. I didn't give you that authority."

Her words hung heavy in the air — cold, firm, final. Adrian looked at her, speechless for a moment. A slow smirk formed on his lips, not of arrogance, but of quiet admiration.

A smile flickered on Adrian's face. He liked the way she said Mr. Frost doesn't have confidence in his wife. The word wife rolled in his mind, warm and satisfying. It meant that somewhere deep inside, she had accepted him as her husband.

He leaned slightly forward, his tone soft yet teasing. "No husband can win over his wife. That's the rule of the world. I admit my defeat, my dear wife."

The word wife from his lips caught Isabella off guard. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, betraying the calm expression she tried to hold. To hide it, she turned quickly and said, "I'll go change," before leaving the room — unaware of the small, affectionate smile that lingered on Adrian's face as he watched her go.

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