The bowl in Isabella's hands tilted dangerously.
Her entire body froze.
Even the warm steam rising from the soup seemed to pause in the air.
For the smallest moment, she almost did not want to believe what she was seeing, because she was not stupid, and her instincts had already begun screaming that something ugly and deliberate had just happened.
Her mind moved fast, almost too fast. The woman had heard her voice. The timing was too exact. The angle was wrong. The whole thing was too convenient.
On Kian's side, the change was immediate.
His face had already been cold before Isabella entered, but the instant the woman landed where she was not supposed to be and he heard Isabella's voice at the doorway, his whole expression turned murderous.
Not angry.
Not annoyed.
Murderous.
The cup of medicine that the woman had been holding spilled wildly as she "fell," some of it splashing over his chest and onto the hide skirt around his waist.
