Isabella continued to stare out the window, lost in thought. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes still fixed on the glass.
"I was angry. I shouldn't have acted like that."
Leonardo glanced at her, the weight of unspoken things thick between them.
"Were you mad at her… or because of that guy?" he asked cautiously, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
She gave a small, bitter chuckle.
"I guess I was mad at both… her and myself. And now I feel worse because I think I took it all out on you."
Silence filled the car again until Isabella turned to him with concern.
"How did you get hurt?" she asked gently.
Leonardo sighed.
"Can I… not answer that?" he replied, avoiding her gaze.
But when she looked at him again, her eyes wide with guilt, he couldn't hold back.
"Was it because of me?" she asked softly.
He suddenly pulled over and parked the car, turning to face her directly.
"No," he said sincerely, his eyes locking onto hers. Her bright, beautiful eyes were clouded with regret—and it hurt him more than he could explain.
Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed a small medical kit and set it between them.
"Let me help you," Isabella said, her voice low and steady.
"Where's the wound?" she asked again.
Leonardo slowly removed his suit jacket. Isabella's breath hitched as she noticed the dark red stain spreading across the white sleeve of his shirt. Without a word, he began to unbutton it.
When he pulled the shirt off, revealing the wound across his abdomen, Isabella froze, momentarily stunned. His body was lean and toned, the injury standing out starkly against his skin.
With gentle hands, she began removing the old bandage, brushing her fingers softly against his skin. The touch sent an involuntary shiver down Leonardo's spine, but he remained still, watching her.
"By the way," he said, trying to break the tension, "I'm Leonardo."
She looked up at him with a small smile.
"Call me Bella."
She returned to cleaning the wound, and for a moment, all they could hear was the rustle of bandages and their slow, steady breaths.
When she finished, their eyes met again—and this time, neither of them looked away. They stared at each other, caught in a silence too loud to ignore.
Leonardo's hand moved instinctively, brushing against her lips with reverence, as if making sure they were real.
And then, without a second thought, Bella wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in. Their lips met, a soft but intense collision of emotion. Leonardo kissed her back, deepening it, tasting her like he'd been waiting forever.
His hands found her waist, cold and damp from the pool, and he pulled her onto his lap. Her soaked gown clung to her like a second skin, tracing every curve perfectly. He groaned softly, overwhelmed by the sensation of her body against his.
Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, as if time itself had stopped.
He leaned back, adjusting his seat to recline, and she laid on top of him, her fingers tracing lines across his bare chest. The heat between them burned through the chill.
And then, with one gentle motion, he flipped her over, hovering above her, their breaths tangled and hearts racing.
With a single pull of the zipper, her gown slipped from her shoulders, falling silently around her waist like a whisper.
Leonardo paused.
His eyes scanned her face, searching for any trace of hesitation—but there was none. Only her soft, parted lips and the way her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath him.
Bella reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.
"You don't have to stop," she said softly, her voice trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of the moment.
Leonardo kissed her again, slower this time, more deliberately, as if trying to memorize the shape of her mouth. His hand gently traced the side of her face, then down her neck, stopping just above her heart. He could feel it pounding beneath his palm.
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
Bella's eyes fluttered closed. For the first time in a long time, she felt seen—not as the girl everyone watched on screens, not as the daughter of the cold, calculating Clara—but just as Bella. It was not the first time , she heard this words but it's just seems different coming out from him.
She let herself melt into the moment, into his warmth, into the tenderness he offered so effortlessly.
But just as his lips trailed down her collarbone, she let out a shaky breath and gently placed her hand on his chest.
"Wait…"
He froze instantly, pulling back to look at her, concern flickering across his face.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded slowly, pulling the gown up to cover herself again.
"It's not you," she whispered. "It's just… I'm not ready. Not now."
Leonardo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, then smiled softly, brushing a kiss across her forehead.
"That's okay," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I'm not going anywhere."
She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest as he wrapped her in his jacket.
For a while, they sat there in silence, holding each other beneath the soft hum of the car engine and the stars blinking faintly overhead.
After everything—after the chaos, the heartbreak, the cold stares and cruel games—this moment felt like something real.
And for Bella, that meant everything.
After a while, Bella adjusted her clothes and tucked a few damp strands of hair behind her ear. A soft smile played on her lips as she looked at Leonardo, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to ask—Are we a thing now? Did that mean something?
But the words got stuck in her throat.
Leonardo, watching her silently, bit his lip in frustration. He shouldn't have gone that far. No matter how much he wanted her, he knew she was still healing—He knew she was still young—angry at the world. There was still so much she didn't understand, still figuring herself out amidst the chaos. But even then, in that fleeting moment between confusion and connection, nothing had ever felt more right to him.
Then Bella's phone rang.
She reached for it, her eyes narrowing at the caller ID. Without hesitation, she answered and brought it to her ear.
"Bella!" a furious voice screamed through the line. Even though the phone wasn't on speaker, Leonardo heard it loud and clear.
"Dad…" she replied, her tone caught between firm and exhausted.
But Francis didn't let her speak. His voice rose with curses, threats, and accusations that stabbed through her like knives. Leonardo's jaw clenched with every word he caught.
She stared at the phone in disbelief, anger bubbling beneath her skin. After a few minutes of heated silence, her fingers clenched around the device, ready to break it.
Leonardo, still driving, reached over with one hand and gently stopped her. She looked at him, ready to explode—but the frustration melted the second their eyes met.
He quietly took the phone from her and placed it aside.
The silence that followed wasn't heavy—it was comforting. And within a few minutes, her head leaned against the window, eyes fluttering closed as sleep quietly stole her away.
Leonardo glanced at her once more, a small breath leaving his lips.
"You're safe now," he whispered under his breath, brushing his hand gently against her cheek.