CHAPTER 230: CHAPTER 230 HIS SECRET HOBBY

That afternoon, Bella paused when she heard faint noises in the hallway—hammering, shuffling, voices. Curious, she peeked out of her room and saw Aunt Clara directing a few men as they carried things into the room right next to Leo’s.

She tilted her head. That room was always shut, always quiet. She had never even set foot inside. "What’s going on?" she asked softly, stepping closer, her hands resting against the doorframe.

Aunt Clara turned to her with a knowing chuckle, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sir asked to have something done in this room," she said, her tone carrying that mysterious twinkle.

Bella blinked, lips parting slightly. "Something... what?"

Clara only shook her head and smiled, clearly enjoying the suspense. "You’ll see when it’s finished, dear. Don’t be impatient."

Bella puffed her cheeks, curiosity itching at her, but she didn’t push. "Okay..." she murmured, dragging out the word before giving in with a small shrug.

She wandered back toward her room, blinking rapidly as she rubbed her eyes. They stung from staring at her laptop screen for too long. She sighed, muttering to herself, "I really need to stop..."

Determined to shake off the dull ache behind her eyes, she reached she grabbed her guitar. Carrying it carefully, she padded down the hall and out into the gardens.

The fresh air greeted her immediately, warm and gentle against her cheeks. The garden stretched wide, filled with blooming flowers that swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze. Birds perched in the trees, their feathers catching the sunlight like little jewels. Bella’s lips curved as she walked to one of the benches tucked beneath a leafy tree.

Settling there, she adjusted the guitar on her lap, her fingers plucking gently at the strings. A soft melody filled the air, uncertain at first, but slowly blooming as her hands remembered the lessons Theo had drilled into her.

She tilted her head back, her eyes following a pair of tiny sparrows that hopped across the grass. "So cute..." she whispered, her lips softening into a smile. Her music became lighter, brighter, almost as if she were playing for the birds themselves.

The sound of her guitar mingled with the chirping, the whole garden feeling peaceful like it belonged only to her in that moment. She closed her eyes and let herself drift, her heart calm.

Then She placed her guitar carefully on the bench, patting it like it was one of her plushies, before standing up and stretching her arms with a small yawn. The garden looked so alive in the afternoon light—flowers opening fully, bees buzzing lazily, and the air carrying that fresh sweetness only nature could give.

Bella wandered along the stone path, her sandals clicking lightly. She stopped when she noticed a little movement near one of the trees. A small squirrel was halfway down the trunk, its tiny paws holding an acorn. The moment its beady eyes met hers, it froze—and then with a quick flick of its fluffy tail, it darted behind the tree, hiding clumsily.

Bella gasped softly and clasped her hands together. "Ohh... so shy!" she whispered with a grin, leaning to peek around the tree. The squirrel poked its head out, squeaked, and quickly hid again. She giggled, covering her mouth. "It’s okay! I won’t take your acorn, promise!"

She walked further, her eyes glowing as she spotted a line of ants carrying crumbs in perfect rhythm. She crouched down, resting her chin on her palm. "So hardworking..." she said in a hushed, awed voice, as though speaking too loudly might break their focus.

Then a butterfly fluttered right past her nose, its wings painted in shades of blue and white. Bella gasped dramatically, twirling around to follow it. She tiptoed after it like a child, her hair swaying behind her, until it landed on a yellow flower.

"Pretty..." she murmured, crouching again. For a moment, her honey-brown eyes reflected the butterfly’s delicate wings, and she smiled like she had just discovered a little piece of magic.

***

Later in the evening, after her little stroll in the garden, Bella climbed up to the third floor again. The sound of footsteps and soft thuds echoed through the corridor—people were still busy with something in the room next to Leo’s. Her curiosity was practically bouncing inside her chest like a drum.

She tilted her head, watching as two men carried in large wooden boards, another carried coils of wire, and someone else carefully unrolled strings of lights that glimmered faintly like stars. Bella blinked, her brows furrowing. This doesn’t look like they’re setting up a bedroom... she thought. If Leo wanted another sleeping space, why on earth would they need boards and lights?

Unable to stop herself, she padded quietly down the corridor, her slippers soft against the floor. She wandered a little further until she noticed another door—one she’d never paid attention to before—standing slightly open.

Curiosity tugged at her, and she peeked inside.

Her breath hitched.

The room was bathed in warm golden light, and in the center stood a breathtaking miniature model—a fantasy ship, delicate and intricate, its sails spread wide as though ready to catch an imaginary wind. The hull was polished wood, painted with tiny golden trims, and its deck was detailed with the smallest cannons and ropes. The sails looked almost like real fabric, thin and carefully tied with string so fine it could have been woven by fairies.

On the walls, shelves were filled with other miniature wonders—tiny castles with spires that sparkled faintly, bridges arched over little rivers made of glass, and small carved trees painted in shades of green so soft they looked alive. In the corner, she spotted a half-built dragon figure with wings spread wide, as if frozen in flight, its scales glimmering faintly under the lamplight.

Bella’s honey-brown eyes widened in amazement. "W-woah..." she whispered to herself, stepping carefully inside as though she might disturb the delicate world around her. Her fingers itched to touch but she clasped them together, afraid of breaking something so precious.

Her gaze fell to a large wooden desk by the window. Scattered across it were fine tools—tiny chisels, magnifying glasses, brushes no bigger than a strand of hair, and bottles of paint. Sheets of parchment and blueprints lay spread out, drawn with exact lines and neat notes. It was clear whoever worked here wasn’t just a hobbyist—this was an obsession, built with patience and precision.

Bella’s lips parted in awe. Is this... Leo’s? The thought made her heart race strangely. She had only ever known him as the cold, frightening man who barked orders and carried danger in his eyes. But this—this delicate, secret world of miniatures—was so different, so quiet, so... beautiful.