CHAPTER 349: CHAPTER 349 A DANGEROUS COMBINATION

Her smile disappeared. The light from the miniature home flickered gently across her face, but her eyes had turned far away, as if she were looking into some old shadow she’d buried deep inside.

"I don’t know..." she whispered. "Maybe I didn’t even know I could."

Her fingers traced the edge of the model roof absentmindedly. "Back then, I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere except the library or to buy groceries, and even then, I had to come back quickly. I thought... maybe that’s how life is supposed to be. I didn’t understand what freedom meant. I just kept reading those books and using the old computer I had at home when he wasn’t there."

She let out a small laugh, one that wasn’t really a laugh. "Sometimes, I used to think the people on the internet were from another planet. So smart, so confident... and I was just a girl who didn’t even know how to take a flight alone."

Leo turned to her fully now, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than usual. "You were scared."

She nodded slowly. "I was. I thought if I just stayed quiet and followed the rules, maybe he wouldn’t get angry again. Maybe I’d be safe." Her voice trembled slightly. "I didn’t even dream about escaping. I just dreamed about... peace. A day when no one would shout at me or beat me. I really hated that I used to have no privacy. Even when he was drunk, he used to spy on my computer."

Leo put down his tools and leaned closer, his tone low and cold. "And now?"

Bella hesitated. She didn’t want to answer that question, not when the memories still stung. Instead, she looked at him suspiciously and asked, "But how did you even know about my uncle?"

Leo didn’t flinch. His expression remained composed, though a faint shadow crossed his eyes. "You told me," he said simply. "You were drunk that night, remember?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, then embarrassment. "I... said that?" she whispered, covering her face with both hands.

He gave a small nod, hiding the fact that he had already investigated her entire life long before she ever told him anything. He didn’t want her to know how much he’d dug into her past—the house, the neighbors, even the library she used to visit.

Bella sighed softly, her expression turning thoughtful. "Now I’m happy, really," she murmured, her tone carrying that gentle honesty that always disarmed him. "But I think I need to learn more. About... everything. I don’t want people to think I’m pretending to be innocent or clueless."

Her words were delicate but firm. She remembered Alexa’s cruel remarks—the way she had mocked her for pretending to be innocent and sweet. It still hurt.

"I’m not pretending," she added in a smaller voice. "I just didn’t know. I stayed home, went to the library, came back, and that was my life. But I’m learning now—from people, from TV, from going out. I’ll learn everything I couldn’t before. I don’t want anyone to call me fake again."

Leo frowned slightly as he listened, watching the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the table. In the beginning, he too had wondered if her innocence was an act—how could someone so pure exist in a world like his? But over time, he’d realized it wasn’t an act at all. It was her nature.

His mind drifted as he watched her—the girl who once lived like a ghost in her own house, who hid behind dusty books and pixel screens, who spoke to people only through code and keyboards. She hadn’t learned how to live among real people because no one had taught her how. Her mind was brilliant, sharp as lightning when it came to logic, but her emotional world was still tender, fragile, half-developed from years of isolation.

That was why she laughed so easily, cried so suddenly, and blushed at the simplest things. She wasn’t pretending. She was just learning how to exist.

Leo’s gaze softened as the thought settled in him. He had once read in a psychology book that people who grew up in abusive or controlled homes often developed what was called a "quiet mind"— a mind that survived not by speaking, but by observing. It stayed silent, calculating, cautious, always measuring safety before emotion. That was Bella. Her brain had learned that silence was the safest language, and now, little by little, she was learning to unlearn it—to speak, to laugh, to live.

He walked toward her slowly, his steps quiet on the floor. Bella’s eyes widened slightly as he stopped in front of her. She didn’t move, just sat there on the stool, her small fingers still resting near the glowing house model.

"Learn," he said softly, his voice deep and powerful. "Learn about the world, people, everything you want to know."

He tilted his head a little, and then, lowering himself to her level, he reached out and gently lifted her chin with his hand. Their eyes met, and his gray ones caught the warm light spilling from the miniature house, turning silver with soft streaks of gold in them. "But don’t ever change your nature," he murmured. "That kindness, that gentleness—it’s what makes you Bella. Everyone’s busy copying others, but you," he smiled faintly, his thumb brushing her jaw, "you’re the only one who still feels real."

Bella’s breath hitched faintly as he continued, his tone low and warm, like velvet brushing against her heart.

"Do you know," he said, "your name fits you perfectly? Isa means the part of computer architecture—the part that defines the commands a processor can understand. The mind that gives direction, intelligence, creation." His gray eyes softened even more. "And Bella means beautiful—in Spanish, Latin, Italian..."

He leaned a little closer, his voice now almost a whisper. "So together, Isabella means a mind that commands beauty. A rare mix of intelligence and grace."

Bella blinked, completely lost for words.

Leo smiled quietly, his hand still holding her chin, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "No doubt," he murmured. "You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen—from the outside and the inside. A dangerous combination."

Her heart fluttered so hard it almost hurt. His usual storm-gray eyes, which once looked sharp and cold, now looked like melting snow under sunlight—soft, deep, and impossibly beautiful. It was as if every part of him, the ice and the fire, had quieted just to look at her.

And for that brief moment, the room felt suspended in silence.