Filed to story: Unmasking the Billionaire: Don’t Mess with the Ex (Victoria & Carter) Book PDF Free
“Did you sleep well, Jenarth?” Carter held him and spoke softly.
Isabella noticed the chair on the floor. She walked over and carefully set it back on its feet.
Carter muttered, “Sorry.”
“Carter, you don’t have to apologize to me.” She pulled Jenarth gently in front of her. “Keep him company for a bit, okay? He needs to rest. I’ll go make breakfast for both of you.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Jenarth reached for Carter’s hand. “Sit down. I’ll give you a massage. It’ll make you feel better.”
Carter almost said no, but the boy looked so sincere. He let Jenarth’s small hands press gently against his forehead.
Isabella watched them for a moment, then turned and headed to the kitchen.
Inside, Sarah was cleaning up. Isabella glanced at the stove and the neatly arranged tools. She hesitated.
She never liked kitchen work and never cooked breakfast herself. But she’d just told Carter she would. No backing out now.
She saw the oatmeal and pastries set out on the table.
“Did you make all these this morning?” she asked, her tone a little haughty.
Sarah looked back calmly. “Yes, Ms. Williams.”
That simple “Ms. Williams” made Isabella’s face tighten.
Right now, in this house, she was the only woman by Carter’s side.
But she could feel it – the servants still listened to Victoria. Especially this housekeeper. She’d always liked Victoria too much.
Isabella smirked. So what if the housekeeper liked Victoria? She had plenty of ways to make these people listen.
“Get me a plate,” she said sharply.
Sarah stood still, not moving.
“I’m making breakfast for Carter. Help me out – go get a plate.”
This time, Sarah finally turned and took a plate from the cabinet.
Isabella took the plate and looked over the food on the table. She picked a few things and arranged them neatly on the plate.
The oatmeal looked and smelled great. She tried a little – it tasted just like restaurant quality. Carter probably refused it earlier because his stomach was upset. Or maybe he just didn’t want it from the housekeeper.
“Bring me a bowl,” Isabella ordered.
Sarah placed one in front of her and said seriously, “Ms. Williams, I made this oatmeal. Mr. Myers doesn’t really like it.”
Isabella gave her a cold look. “It’s the same oatmeal. But when someone else serves it, it tastes different.”
Sarah didn’t answer. She just stood quietly nearby.
Isabella spooned the oatmeal into the bowl. She checked the temperature to make sure it was just right. Then she picked up the plate of pastries and left the kitchen.
In the living room, Jenarth was still gently rubbing Carter’s forehead. Carter had his eyes closed. He looked calm and comfortable. The scene was warm and peaceful.
“Carter, breakfast is ready!”
He opened his eyes when he heard Isabella’s voice. The food, carefully plated, was a feast for the eyes. But when his eyes stopped on the bowl of oatmeal, his expression shifted slightly.
“Carter, I made this oatmeal myself. Try it,”
Isabella said. She put the bowl in front of him and set a spoon beside it.
Carter stared at the oatmeal for a long time. He didn’t move.
“Carter…” Isabella called softly.
He seemed to snap out of it. Seeing Isabella’s hopeful face, he picked up the bowl and took a small taste.
It wasn’t what he expected. His stomach turned. He wanted to spit it out. But Isabella was watching him eagerly. She’d gone into the kitchen to prepare these herself. So he forced himself to swallow it.
Watching him eat the oatmeal she served, Isabella felt proud inside.
“Take your time, Carter. Try these pastries too,” she said, pushing the plate closer.
Carter looked at the food. His stomach twisted again. Forcing down the oatmeal had made it worse.
“Isabella,” Carter put the bowl down and said seriously, “you stay and have breakfast with
Jenarth. I just remembered something at work. I need to go.” He stood up and walked quickly toward the door.
“Carter…” Isabella called after him, but he didn’t look back.
Jenarth watched him leave, confused. “Mommy, he looks a little sick.”
Isabella didn’t answer. Her face grew colder.
*****
After leaving the villa, Carter called his assistant, Donald Jones, to pick him up.
Donald was confused. Just an hour earlier, Carter said he was taking the day off. He told him to handle things at the company and hold off on major decisions.
Now, suddenly, he wanted to go to the office.
“Mr. Myers, are you feeling better?” Donald asked carefully.
Carter had been rubbing his forehead since he got in the car. “Take me to Central Hospital,” he said quietly.
Donald grew worried. “Mr. Myers, are you sick? Should I book a doctor in advance?”
“I want to see my grandpa,” Carter said, leaning back in his seat.
Donald understood. Carter wasn’t sick – he was visiting his grandfather. He told the driver to head to the hospital and didn’t ask more.
Carter leaned back and closed his eyes. His stomach still felt uneasy. He tried to calm down, but every time he shut his eyes, he heard Victoria’s voice in his head.
Her mocking words played over and over.
She said he was blind and clueless.
She said she didn’t want him anymore. He was out of the game.
The more he remembered, the worse he felt.
