Chapter 16

The backstage of the runway show was brightly lit. When Isabella Laurent introduced Ethan Sinclair to several international designers, his sketches were passed around, eliciting gasps of amazement.

"Incredible!"

"Such rare creativity!"

"Ms. Laurent, where did you unearth this treasure?"

Ethan’s ears burned slightly. He lifted his champagne glass to hide his discomfort, the bubbles dancing merrily in the golden liquid.

"I’m really happy today," he said, pouring himself another drink. "Thank you for bringing me here, Ms. Laurent."

Isabella reached out and pressed her fingers over his wrist. "That’s enough."

But Ethan stubbornly pushed her hand away. "I’m celebrating. Won’t you join me?"

Under the lights, Isabella noticed the flush on his cheeks, like clouds tinted by sunset. She didn’t stop him again, simply watching as he refilled his glass.

"Isabella..." The alcohol made his voice float. "Why are you so good to me?"

After his rebirth, he had seen through Victoria Montgomery’s false affection, but Isabella’s sincerity remained a mystery. The closer he got, the more she confused him.

Her lashes cast delicate shadows under the lights. She only stared at him, silent as an autumn lake.

The streets were unusually quiet after the snowfall. Isabella supported the slightly tipsy Ethan as they walked back, the snow crunching beneath their feet. At the apartment building, she realized she’d left her phone at the bar.

"Wait here," she said, releasing his arm.

Ethan tilted his head back, watching the snowflakes drift down. How long had he been in France? Lost in thought, he suddenly felt a sharp grip on his wrist.

"We need to talk."

Victoria’s voice sliced through the peaceful night like a blade.

The cold wind sobered Ethan instantly. He tried to pull away, but she clung to him desperately.

"I was wrong..." Her voice trembled. "I’ve always loved you. Come back with me. France’s winter is too cold..."

Ethan’s body stiffened like ice.

"I’ll punish Lucas. I won’t hurt you again..." Her tears soaked into his collar.

"Punish him?" Ethan scoffed. "Wasn’t all of this your doing?"

Victoria’s sobs cut off abruptly.

"Do you know what I’m doing now?" Ethan’s voice turned light, almost playful.

"I do! You’re Santa’s designer—"

"But do you know my dream?" He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "If I go back with you, will you make it come true?"

"I will! I’ll give you all the best resources—"

Ethan pressed a finger to her lips. He studied the face that had once haunted his dreams—now unshaven, disheveled.

"No, you won’t." He pulled back. "Thanks to you, I don’t even have a degree back home. How would I access your connections?"

Victoria’s face drained of color.

"France’s winter is cold," Ethan murmured, "but staying by your side was colder."

He stumbled back—right into Isabella’s arms.

Victoria’s gaze flickered to the woman who had appeared out of nowhere. "You’ve moved on?"

"Moved on?" Ethan laced his fingers through Isabella’s. "This is my girlfriend."

As they climbed the stairs, Isabella glanced down at her hand, a bitter smile touching her lips. She turned it over, as if she could still feel the warmth of his touch.

At home, Ethan collapsed onto the sofa. His keys slipped from his pocket—Isabella’s. A knock sounded at the door.

Assuming it was her coming to retrieve them, he opened it—only to find Victoria standing there.

"You were lying, weren’t you?" Her eyes were dark. "If she’s your girlfriend, why didn’t she stay the night?"

Ethan smirked. "Not everyone is as twisted as you."

"I’m not—" Her voice cracked. "My mother... she’s dead."

Ethan’s breath hitched.

"Lucas and Sophia... they showed her the video..." Victoria slid to the floor. "Is this my punishment?"

Outside, Isabella stood silently. She watched Victoria leave, then turned—only to meet Ethan’s searching gaze.

"I came for my keys," she said, rubbing her nose awkwardly.

Ethan didn’t call her out. "Can you answer my question now?"

"What question?"

"You’d seen my work before." He took a step closer. "You were there at that competition, weren’t you?"

Isabella smiled. "You finally remembered?"

"Why did you believe in me? Even the judges said that piece was flawed."

"If you don’t know Isabella," she whispered, "what about Aggie?"

Ethan froze as if struck by lightning. Memories surged—the little girl who used to climb the apple tree next to his grandmother’s house.

"Aggie?"

"The letters from middle school were torn up by the orphanage staff..." Her voice wavered. "I searched for you for so long."

Suddenly, Ethan remembered his online collaborator—AG. Aggie’s initials.

"The Apple Beyond the Tree was our creation." Isabella’s eyes gleamed like stars. "How could I not believe in you?"

The snow had stopped. Moonlight streamed through the window, stretching their shadows long across the floor.