WEDDED TO A BILLIONAIRE: Love Behind Closed Door

Chapter 3: Isabella's Support

The note burned in my hand, its message seared into my mind. You don't know the whole truth. Your marriage is part of a larger plan.

I barely slept after reading those words. My mind was tangled with a thousand questions, none of which I had answers to. Who had sent the note? What did they know about my marriage, and why couldn't I shake the feeling that this was just the beginning? I spent the night pacing the cold marble floors of the penthouse, my thoughts spiraling further into the unknown.

By the time morning came, I had resolved to find out more. I couldn't confront Alexander—our relationship was too fragile, too distant. But there was someone else who might help me, someone who had always seemed willing to lend a kind ear: Isabella.

Isabella Knight, Alexander's sister, had been nothing but gracious to me since the wedding. We hadn't spent much time together, but during the few interactions we'd had, she always seemed supportive, if not a little withdrawn. Perhaps she could shed light on the note... or on the cryptic words I'd overheard between Alexander and their father.

Just as I was considering how to approach her, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from Isabella.

"Let's have lunch today. We need to talk."

I arrived at Isabella's favorite restaurant, a sleek, upscale spot with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The moment I walked in, the hostess guided me to a private table near the back, tucked away from the crowds. Isabella was already there, impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, her long, chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders like silk.

"You're right on time," she said with a warm smile, gesturing for me to sit. There was a calmness to her, an air of poise that only someone born into wealth and privilege could possess. But as I sat down, I noticed something else—tension. It was subtle, hidden behind her smile, but it was there.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, forcing a casual tone. The last thing I wanted was to seem desperate, even though that's exactly how I felt.

"Yes," she replied, but her voice held an edge that made me uneasy. "I just thought we should talk. It's been a whirlwind since the wedding, hasn't it?"

I nodded, feeling the weight of the note still tucked in my pocket. I hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet, but every instinct told me to be careful. Isabella was warm, supportive even, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface.

"How's married life treating you?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

I hesitated, unsure of how honest I should be. How was I supposed to explain the loneliness, the cold distance between Alexander and me, without sounding weak? But something in her gaze made me want to confide in her, to reach out for help.

"It's... not what I expected," I admitted, choosing my words carefully. "Alexander is... difficult to connect with."

Isabella sighed softly, leaning back in her chair. "That sounds about right. My brother has always been closed off, even to me."

Her words didn't surprise me, but the way she said them did—there was an underlying bitterness there, something unresolved between them. I wanted to ask more, but before I could, Isabella spoke again.

"Sophia, I know you're probably feeling overwhelmed right now. I know how my family can be," she said, her voice softening. "But I want you to know that you're not alone in this. I'm here for you, whenever you need to talk."

Her words were comforting, but something about the way she spoke felt rehearsed, as if she had said this many times before—to other people, perhaps? Still, I couldn't deny that I needed someone on my side, especially with everything I was beginning to suspect.

"Thank you, Isabella," I said, meaning it. "I appreciate that more than you know."

She smiled again, but it didn't reach her eyes. There was a tightness in her expression, as if she was holding something back. I couldn't help but wonder if this support came with strings attached.

As our lunch progressed, the conversation drifted to safer topics—fashion, travel, the superficial things that masked the deeper tension between us. But just as I was beginning to relax, Isabella's demeanor shifted. Her eyes darkened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to almost a whisper.

"You know, Alexander wasn't always like this," she said, her gaze locking onto mine. "There's a reason he's so... closed off. A reason he won't let anyone in."

My heart skipped a beat. This was what I had been waiting for—a glimpse into Alexander's past, a clue to understanding the man I had married. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Isabella hesitated, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass. For a moment, I thought she might change the subject, but then she spoke again, her tone heavy with something I couldn't quite place.

"There are things about our family that you don't know, Sophia," she said. "Secrets that have shaped Alexander into the man he is today. If you want to understand him—really understand him—you'll have to dig deeper than you think."

My pulse quickened. This was it—the truth I had been searching for. But before I could press her for more, Isabella leaned back, her face suddenly composed again, the mask of calm slipping back into place.

"I've said too much already," she added, her smile returning, though her eyes remained distant. "Just... be careful, Sophia. Not everything is as it seems."

The cryptic warning hung in the air between us, thick with implication. My mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of what she had hinted at, but I knew I wouldn't get more out of her today.

As we parted ways, Isabella's words echoed in my head, mingling with the message from the note. *A larger plan.* A secret about Alexander's past. The pieces were there, but none of them fit together yet.

And then, just before she walked away, Isabella paused and turned back to me, her expression unreadable.

"Ask Alexander about the summer of 1999," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe then you'll start to understand."

With that, she was gone, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest. The summer of 1999. What had happened then? And why did I have the sinking feeling that whatever it was, it would change everything?