Chapter 4

Mike Sterling rarely spoke.

He was a presence, a silent guardian. Always there, always watchful.

Tonight, however, his usually impassive face held a trace of something I hadn't seen before.

Relief?

"Princess Isabella," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It's... good to see you looking so well."

"Thank you, Mike," I replied, meeting his steady gaze.

His eyes, a clear, honest blue, held no artifice, no hidden agenda. Just a straightforward concern that felt... real.

Suddenly, Ethan was there, materializing beside me like an unwanted ghost.

His face was drawn, his earlier composure gone.

"Bella," he began, his voice urgent, ignoring Mike completely. "We need to talk. What you did tonight... it was cruel. Unnecessary."

He reached for my arm.

Before his fingers could make contact, Mike shifted, subtly placing himself between us.

Not aggressively. Just... there. A solid, immovable object.

Ethan's hand dropped. He glared at Mike. "This is a private conversation."

Mike didn't flinch. "The princess is tired. It's been a long evening."

"I'll decide when the princess is tired," Ethan snapped, his voice rising. "She used to adore me, you know. She'd tell me everything. This... this coldness, it's not her. You've all been waiting for this, haven't you? For her to choose someone else."

His eyes, wild and accusatory, fixed on me. "Was it all a game, Bella? Were you just pretending to be... simple... all these years, waiting to humiliate me? Did you ever truly care for me?"

The words hung in the air, ugly and desperate.

I felt a flicker of the old pain, the confusion, the hurt.

But it was distant now, muffled by a new, harder shell.

"Care for you, Ethan?" I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "The way you cared for me when you left me drugged and alone on our wedding night to be with Emily?"

The color drained from his face.

"Or perhaps the way you cared for me when your staff treated me like a stray dog, and you never lifted a finger?"

He recoiled, speechless.

"The 'silly' Bella you knew might have believed your lies, Ethan. But she's gone."

I looked at Mike. "Mike, would you be kind enough to escort me to my rooms? As you said, it's been a long evening."

Mike nodded, his expression unreadable. He offered me his arm.

I took it, ignoring Ethan's stunned, disbelieving stare.

As we walked away, I heard my father's voice, sharp and cold, from across the hall.

"Carter. My office. Now."

I didn't look back.

Mike led me through the quiet, echoing corridors of the mansion.

We walked in silence for a while.

"He was there, wasn't he?" I said softly, not looking at him. "At the hospital. After the crash."

Mike's arm tensed slightly beneath my hand.

"Yes, Princess."

"You pulled me out."

"Yes."

I remembered flashes. Twisted metal. The smell of gasoline. A strong, steady voice telling me to hold on.

His voice.

"Thank you, Mike," I said, finally looking up at him. "For saving me then. And for... tonight."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Always, Princess."