The Billionaire I couldn't hate.

Isabella didn't expect to think about him after she left.

Yet all the way home, the image of Nathaniel lingered-his calm voice, the way his eyes seemed to notice things most people missed, the unexpected warmth beneath his reserved manner.

She told herself it was nothing.

Just another employer. Another job she couldn't afford to lose.

Still, when she unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped into the dim space, the silence felt heavier than usual. She dropped her bag on the chair and leaned against the door for a moment, exhaling slowly.

This was her life now.

Small rooms. Careful budgeting. Constant planning.

She glanced at her phone.

No messages.

Her father hadn't replied in days.

Isabella pushed the thought away and headed to the kitchen, boiling water for instant noodles. As she waited, her eyes drifted to the window. From here, she could see the glow of the city-bright, distant, unreachable.

She used to live among that light.

Now she only watched it.

The next evening, she arrived ten minutes early again.

The Blackwood house greeted her with the same quiet elegance. No loud music. No chaos. Just controlled stillness.

This time, Nathaniel opened the door wearing a soft gray sweater instead of a shirt and slacks. The sight surprised her in a way she wasn't prepared for.

"You're early again," he said.

She smiled faintly. "I like to be consistent."

"So do I."

He stepped aside, letting her in. The scent of coffee lingered in the air.

"Elliot is finishing homework," he said. "Would you like tea?"

"That would be nice," she replied.

In the kitchen, she noticed small details she'd missed before-the neat arrangement of mugs, the way everything had its place. It didn't feel like a house meant for comfort. It felt like one designed for control.

"You live here alone with Elliot?" she asked carefully.

"Yes."

No explanation. No elaboration.

She didn't push.

They sat across from each other at the island counter, tea steaming between them. The silence wasn't awkward, but it wasn't empty either. It was the kind that made her aware of herself-how she sat, how she spoke.

"You're very good with him," Nathaniel said.

"He's smart," she replied. "He just needs someone who listens."

Something unreadable crossed his face.

"That's rare," he said quietly.

Before she could respond, Elliot appeared, backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Hi," he said to Isabella, less grumpy than the day before.

"Ready to conquer history?" she asked.

He groaned. "I guess."

As they settled into the lesson, Isabella noticed Nathaniel lingering nearby, pretending to read while listening closely.

Elliot surprised her again, he asked questions, engaged, even laughed once.

When the session ended, he packed up slowly.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" he asked.

Isabella blinked, caught off guard.

"If your dad wants me to," she said gently.

Elliot glanced at Nathaniel. "I want her to."

Nathaniel nodded once. "Then it's settled."

After Elliot left the room, Isabella gathered her notes.

"You don't have to decide so quickly," she said.

"I already have," Nathaniel replied.

Their eyes met again.

She felt it this time, a subtle pull, like something unspoken hovering between them.

"I'll walk you out," he said.

Outside, the evening air was cool. The city hummed quietly around them.

"You didn't ask many questions," Nathaniel said suddenly.

"About?"

"About me. Most people do."

Isabella hesitated. "I learnt that people share when they're ready. Not when they're asked."

That earned her a long look.

"You're different," he said.

She laughed softly. "I doubt that."

"No," he said calmly. "You are."

The words stayed with her as she walked away.

Later that night, Isabella sat at her small desk, counting money and calculating expenses. The tutoring job paid well-too well.

She should be grateful.

Yet something about it unsettled her.

She opened her laptop and searched the address.

Nothing unusual came up.

Still, she closed it quickly.

Curiosity had ruined her life once. She wouldn't let it again.

Nathaniel stood in his study long after the house had gone quiet.

Isabella Vale.

He'd known her name the moment he saw her application. Known exactly who she was. Where she came from.

And what had been taken from her.

Yet when she stood before him, nervous but composed, he felt something he hadn't expected.

Guilt.

He told himself it was irrational.

Necessary decisions had consequences. That was business.

Still, when she smiled at Elliot, when she spoke about honesty-something cracked.

He hadn't planned to let her stay.

But now?

He wasn't sure he could let her go.

The following days fell into a rhythm.

Isabella tutored Elliot. Nathaniel observed from a distance. Conversations grew easier. Laughter came more often.

She started to feel... safe.

And that frightened her more than anything else.

Because safety was an illusion.

And Isabella Hart had already lost too much to trust it again.