“Isabella,” he murmured, reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go ahead alone. Are you hurt?”
Something inside me fractured quietly, yet I kept my expression calm.
“We still have the investment signing tomorrow,” he continued carefully. “You’ll be able to attend, won’t you? It’s important.”
“It may need to be postponed,” I replied softly.
“That’s difficult,” he said quickly. “If you’re not well enough, I can sign for you. Just authorize me temporarily.”
“And why should I?” I asked evenly.
He blinked, surprised. “Because I’m your husband. Everything’s going to be shared ownership anyway.”
I forced a faint smile. “I’d like to rest first.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Of course. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
Once he left and the door closed, my composure cracked. My fingers trembled as I grabbed my phone.
I dialed Logan’s number.
When he answered, my voice was quiet but steady.
“Logan… tell me everything you’ve found about Sebastian.”
Logan didn’t speak when he stepped into my hospital room. His face looked drained of color, his expression tight, like he was carrying something too heavy to say out loud.
Without a word, he placed a thick envelope on my lap.
“Go through it,” he murmured.
My hands shook as I opened it. Papers spilled out—photocopied files, scanned records, a passport copy, old news clippings, bank statements, photographs. There were too many. Every page I picked up felt like a blade cutting deeper than the last.
Logan let out a slow, shaky breath. “Isabella… Sebastian isn’t the man you think he is.”
My chest tightened painfully. “Logan… don’t.”
“He’s the son of a powerful industrialist from Asteria,” Logan continued quietly, his voice steady despite the cruelty of his words. “He left home because of gambling debts. Not small ones—massive, dangerous debts. The kind that involve organized crime. His father gave him one condition: clear everything, then he could return.”
A dull ringing filled my ears.
“He needed money,” Logan said. “A lot of it. And that’s when he chose you.”
I went still. “What do you mean… chose me?” My voice trembled. “Four years ago… when the yacht I was on sank… are you telling me that wasn’t accidental?”