Chapter 23: What Home Forgot

Isabel’s POV She found him exactly where she expected to. Leaning against the railing of the rooftop terrace just off the west wing, half-lit by the fading skyline and wrapped in the kind of quiet only nightfall brings. Zach had one hand shoved deep in his coat pocket and the other holding a paper cup of something probably cold by now. He didn’t turn when she stepped out. But she knew he’d heard her. “You’re doing that broody silhouette thing again,” Isabel said softly, coming up beside him. “Very tortured-hero chic.” Zach exhaled through his nose, a hint of a smirk. “Isn’t that your department?” “Please. I’m tragic, not tortured.” He gave a half-laugh and finally glanced over. “Thought you were going back down to Lia and Gray.” “I will.” Isabel rested her elbows on the railing beside him. “But first I thought I’d check on you. You kind of disappeared after dinner.” Zach shrugged. “I’m fine.” “Uh-huh. That’s your favorite lie.” Another pause. This one stretched longer. But she waited. He finally muttered, “I keep going back to it. The crash. What I could’ve done. Should’ve done.” Isabel didn’t try to stop him. Didn’t jump in with comfort or clichés. She just listened. “It wasn’t some elaborate threat. No warning. No enemy,” he said. “Just… bad luck. A car in the wrong place at the worst time. But it was my side to protect. And I failed.” “You didn’t fail,” Isabel said gently. “You survived. And you got him to the hospital. And you’ve been here every damn day since.” “It’s not enough.” “Of course it’s not. Because nothing will feel like enough until he wakes up.” She turned her head, watching him in profile—his jaw tight, eyes clouded. Most people saw Zach as the muscle. The driver. The guy who stood at Gray’s shoulder like a bodyguard with a sarcastic streak. But she knew better. She’d seen the way Zach looked after Gray, not just with duty, but with loyalty. Real, unwavering loyalty. “I hated this place,” Isabel said suddenly. Zach blinked. “The hospital?” “No, the house. Our house.” She glanced down at her hands. “For a long time it just felt… hollow. Like a museum. Big and beautiful and completely lifeless. Everyone always away—Dad at some summit, Mom jetting between boards, Gray buried in his empire, me playing at philanthropy across the globe… We were a family that sent emails and forwarded calendars. Not one that sat down to dinner.” Zach said nothing, but his silence felt like permission to keep going. “And then the accident happened,” she said quietly. “Everything just… stopped. The flights. The meetings. The noise. Suddenly we were all here, and the silence was deafening.” Zach nodded slowly. “It shook everyone.” “Yeah,” Isabel murmured. “But then Amelia showed up. And I swear, she didn’t just breathe life into Gray’s room. She brought something back to all of us.” She smiled faintly, remembering Amelia’s quiet voice reading aloud, her sketchpad, her wide eyes taking in the estate without realizing its scale. How quickly she slipped into their rhythm—offering help, deflecting compliments, making them all laugh without even trying. “She has no idea who we are,” Isabel said. “But somehow, she fits. She brings… warmth. Like she reminded us how to be human again.” Zach tilted his head toward her. “You think she’ll stay?” “I don’t know,” Isabel admitted. “But I hope so. For Gray. For all of us.” They stood there a moment longer, watching the city in the distance—small lights blinking against the dusk. Finally, Zach said, “It feels like we’re standing on something fragile.” “What do you mean?” “This—whatever’s forming between her and Gray. Between her and the family. It’s real, but it’s built on a lie. Or at least a very carefully hidden truth. And eventually… someone’s going to fall through.” Isabel’s smile faded, but not into fear. Into understanding. “I think about that, too,” she whispered. “But maybe the heart sees more clearly than the mind ever could. And I think… when the time comes, she’ll forgive us.” Zach looked at her then. Really looked. “You believe that?” “I want to believe that.” They stood in silence a while longer, until Isabel nudged his arm gently. “You coming back in?” “In a minute.” She nodded and turned toward the door, pausing only once to glance back at him. “You didn’t fail him, Zach,” she said again. “You’re still here. That’s what matters.” And then she was gone, leaving Zach alone with the skyline and the stars, and the echo of a truth he wasn’t sure he deserved—but needed all the same.