The next morning, Isabella slowly drifted back to consciousness, the unfamiliar sensation of warmth and softness beneath her stirring her awake. Her eyelids fluttered open, her vision still blurred as she took in her surroundings. She recognized the luxurious room instantly, it was Enrico's bedroom. The soft, white linens felt foreign to her, but what caught her attention next made her heart skip.
A hand was gently holding hers.
Isabella's gaze moved to the source, and she froze. Her mother sat beside her, the gentle expression on her face a mix of relief and affection. Her mother’s hand was warm, her grip steady as she squeezed Isabella’s fingers slightly, offering reassurance.
“Thank God, you’re awake,” her mother, Celia said, her voice soft but brimming with emotion. She leaned forwa
