CHAPTER 26: CHAPTER 26 LEO DARLING

Isabella stepped into her new room on the second floor, and the moment her feet touched the soft white rug, her face lit up like the sun peeking through curtains.

It wasn’t as massive as Leonardo’s dark-themed royal suite upstairs, but this room...

It was hers alone.

Simple. Bright. Warm.

The walls were painted a soft cream with peach undertones, the large window and a small bookshelf stood in the corner beside a cozy desk. Her plushies Berry and Moonbeam sat proudly on her bed, like little guardians of peace. Her laptop was on the side table.

No more third floor pressure.

No more walking on eggshells.

She twirled once, laughing lightly to herself.

Then her eyes caught the wardrobe. Curiously, she opened it and gasped.

Inside were rows of brand-new clothes, all perfectly her size. Dresses in soft fabrics and pastel colors, cozy nightwear, even tiny accessories hung neatly in drawers. A little tag on one of the hangers read: From Lina.

Her heart warmed.

And she found more clothes too...ones Leonardo must’ve arranged. She paused, blinking at a few that looked far too expensive to wear just casually.

She hugged one of the cardigans and sighed happily.

"He’s actually not that bad..." she whispered to herself.

Strict, yes. Always frowning, yes. Cold voice like villain in detective movies—definitely yes.

But he didn’t throw her out. He gave her food. Clothes. A room. A black card.

Even if he glared like she committed crime every time she smiled deep down, he must be...

"A good and gentle boy," she concluded with a soft smile.

Meanwhile, far away on the third floor—

If Leonardo ever heard himself being described as a "good and gentle boy,"

he might actually short-circuit.

Or file a lawsuit for emotional defamation.

But for now, Isabella was safe in her bright new room, plotting kindness for her scary husband like he was a misunderstood stray cat.

•••

The next morning, sunlight spilled softly through the white curtains as Isabella stretched under her cozy blanket, letting out a happy sigh. It was the first time she’d slept peacefully in years. No banging doors. No fear of footsteps. No cold glares from Jessica or slurred shouting from her uncle.

Just silence.

Just safety.

Just a soft bed and her plushies cuddled on each side.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and whispered to herself with a smile, "Today I’ll say thank you to my... good husband."

She giggled lightly, already imagining how awkward he would look if she said it with a straight face. Maybe she’d even bake him cookies later. He deserved it for giving her such a nice room and all those pretty clothes.

So she changed into a fresh dress—cream-colored with little daisies near the sleeves—and padded down the stairs with a spring in her step.

In the hallway, she spotted Aunty Clara, the butler who always carried herself with elegance and calm, folding towels into impossibly perfect shapes.

"Aunty Clara!" Isabella beamed. "Good morning!"

"Good morning, dear." Clara smiled warmly at the cheerful girl. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a princess!" Isabella nodded. "I was looking for... um, my husband. I want to thank him. Is he still upstairs?"

Clara blinked. Then smiled softly. "Oh, child. Didn’t anyone tell you?"

"Tell me... what?"

"Master Leonardo left early this morning," she said, gently. "He’s gone on a business trip. Might take a few weeks."

Isabella froze.

"W-weeks?"

She blinked in surprise. Her mind was still trying to catch up.

Gone?

Just like that?

She hadn’t even gotten the chance to say thank you... or give him cookies!

Her lips pouted slightly.

She had so many questions! Like—how was she supposed to pay him back for the card? Or say thanks.

Still, a small smile returned to her lips.

"Okay," she said softly. "Then I’ll thank him when he returns..."

She glanced up toward the third floor, hugging her plushie closer.

Clara stood there for a moment, watching Isabella’s inocent face turn into soft confusion. The girl truly looked like a baby deer—big brown eyes, soft expression, completely unaware of the snakes that slithered in places like this.

She’s too innocent for this world, Clara thought with a silent sigh. She couldn’t understand why the master had left such a girl alone in this lion’s den. Leonardo might be powerful, yes—but emotionally? Cold as winter.

Just as the morning felt peaceful, a voice came slicing through the hallway like a knife through silk.

"Leo darling! Where are you?"

The loud heels clicking followed before the actual woman even appeared.

Isabella blinked, confused.

A tall woman entered like she owned the entire world, wearing a black designer dress that ended way above the knees, her legs long and shiny, her makeup sharp, and lips a deep shade of red. Her dark hair flowed like a storm behind her shoulders.

She stopped in her tracks the moment her eyes landed on Isabella.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Oh... a guest?"

Clara’s jaw tightened. Isabella, however, innocently tilted her head. "Um... hello."

Alexa DeLuna.

The famous actress. Crowned queen of television and tabloid headlines. Rich background. Huge fanbase. And the unofficial fiancée of Leonardo Moretti—according to her.

The problem is Leonardo never acknowledged her. Not once.

But that didn’t stop Alexa from telling the world she was his future wife, his lover, his everything. And most people believed her because of her family status, looks, and charm. That’s how the industry worked.

She narrowed her eyes slightly as she scanned Isabella from head to toe—pastel dress, bare face, house slippers, holding a plushie that looked like it belonged in a child’s bedroom.

She knew Isabella was Leonardo’s newlywed wife.

"You must be the... maid?" she said with fake sweetness, tilting her head.

Isabella blinked again. "No, I’m Isabella. Leonardo’s wife."

Alexa’s face twitched.

And for the first time, Isabella tilted her head again and asked, in the most genuine tone:

"...Are you the chef?"

Clara immediately turned away and pretended to cough but really, she was choking back a laugh.

Alexa’s smile faltered for half a second—just long enough for Clara to notice the subtle crack in her glamorous mask.

Did she just ask if I’m the chef?

Alexa recovered with a soft, condescending laugh. "Oh no, sweetheart," she said smoothly, walking closer in those loud designer heels. "I don’t do... domestic work. I leave that to people who know how to boil eggs."

Isabella blinked. "Oh... I know how to boil eggs."

"Of course you do," Alexa said, voice dripping in sugar and venom. "That’s what... simple girls do best, isn’t it? Stay home, boil eggs, cuddle their stuffed animals..."

She looked down at the rabbit in Isabella’s arms with a dramatic sigh. "And call that a life."

Isabella tilted her head. "But stuffed animals are soft and loyal. Unlike... some people."

Alexa’s eye twitched.

Clara, once again, had to quickly turn her head away before she burst out laughing.

"Oh honey," Alexa said, stepping even closer, towering over Isabella like a runway queen sizing up her prey. "Do you know who I am?"

"No," Isabella said honestly, her brows scrunched. "But I think I saw your face once. On the TV. In the background."

Alexa inhaled sharply.

"I’m Alexa DeLuna," she hissed, her perfect smile vanishing. "And everyone knows I was supposed to marry Leonardo. Your little Cinderella fantasy? It won’t last. The moment he gets bored of your dumb smile, he’ll throw you out."

Isabella clutched her bunny tighter, but her innocent eyes remained calm.

"Oh... but if he throws me out, can I keep the room? And the bunny?" she asked sweetly.

Alexa’s mouth dropped open.

"You little—!"

She leaned in, eyes narrowed. "Listen carefully, you clueless brat. You may be his wife on paper, but that man belongs to me. And if you ever, ever try to act like you’re more than just his charity case, I’ll make sure you disappear from this city without a trace."

Isabella blinked. "...Oh. That sounds like a lot of effort."

Alexa paused. "What?"

"I mean..." Isabella tilted her head again, looking truly puzzled. "If you don’t like me, you don’t have to talk to me. I didn’t even know you were mad."

Alexa stood frozen for a second, then scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Enjoy your little fairytale while it lasts," she snapped, then turned and stormed out with loud heels clacking like thunder.

Isabella turned to Clara, looking adorably confused.

"...Why is she mad at me?"

Clara patted her shoulder gently, smiling softly. "Because, dear... you just exist. And some people don’t like it when someone shines without trying."

Isabella nodded slowly... still not fully getting it. But she was glad she still had her bunny and unicorn.

Isabella huffed softly as she climbed the stairs, her bunny plushie still hugged close to her chest like a tiny soldier ready for war.

She didn’t fully understand why that tall woman with scary lipstick hated her so much—but one thing she did understand was how to use a laptop. And if this women wanted to glare and hiss like a cartoon villain, then Isabella had every right to... investigate.

After all, knowledge was power.

And Isabella was excellent at quietly gathering power.

She slipped into her room, closed the door behind her, and whispered to her plushie, "Alright, Bunny. Operation Angry Lipstick Lady begins."