His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 612 Angry

Even in sleep, he looked stressed.

His jaw was clenched tight, muscles jumping occasionally like he was fighting something in his dreams. His brow was furrowed, deep lines etched between his eyes. One hand, the injured one, rested on his chest, bandaged knuckles rising and falling with each breath.

Bella’s heart ached.

She lowered herself carefully onto the tiny edge of the couch, perching beside him. There was barely any space, but she made it work, her thigh pressing against his hip.

Slowly, gently, she reached out.

Her fingers touched his brow first, tracing the furrowed lines with feather-light pressure. She smoothed them, once, twice, three times, watching as some of the tension eased beneath her touch.

Then her fingers drifted to his jaw.

The hard line of it. The stubble rough against her fingertips. The way his teeth were still clenched even in sleep.

She massaged gently, small circles with her thumb, working the tension from his tight muscles. His jaw softened, just slightly. A small breath escaped him.

She kept going.

Brow. Temples. Jaw. The tight cords of his neck.

All the while, she watched his face. Watched the way the lines slowly faded. Watched his breathing deepen. Watched the man she loved find a few moments of peace.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, so quiet it was barely air. "I’m so sorry."

He didn’t stir.

She leaned down and pressed the softest kiss to his forehead, right between those brows she’d just smoothed.

Then she sat there, on the edge of too-small couch, watching him sleep, wishing she could take all his anger and stress into herself and spare him this pain.

The night stretched on. She didn’t leave his side.

The couch was too small for both of them, and Bella knew it. So she did the only thing that made sense. She slid off the edge, onto the floor, and curled up there. Her back rested against the base of the couch, her head tilted back, her body folded into an awkward position that would definitely leave her sore in the morning.

But she didn’t care.

She just needed to be near him.

The floor was cold. Hard. Unforgiving. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, trying to conserve warmth. Moonbeam was still on the bed, forgotten. She had nothing but her thin nightclothes and the faint heat radiating from the man sleeping above her.

She fell asleep like that. Curled on the floor like a loyal dog, refusing to leave his side even when he’d pushed her away.

The next morning.

Leo’s eyes opened to pale gray light filtering through the curtains.

For a moment, he was disoriented. The couch was wrong. The angle was wrong. Everything was wrong.

He swung his legs over the edge, preparing to stand.

And froze.

Bella was on the floor.

Curled into a tight ball, her body pressed against the base of the couch, her cheek resting on her folded arms. Her hair was a mess, spilling everywhere. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing soft and even. She looked small. Vulnerable. Completely out of place on the cold, hard floor.

Leo’s jaw tightened.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

She’d slept on the floor. The cold floor. Because he’d been too stubborn to share a bed with her.

He stared at her for a long moment, something painful twisting in his chest. The anger from last night was still there, buried but present. But this cut through it in a way nothing else could.

He moved carefully, slowly, bending down to slip one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. She was weightless in his arms. Absolutely weightless.

She stirred slightly as he lifted her, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn’t wake.

He carried her to the bed, their bed, and laid her down gently, like she was made of glass. Her head found the pillow instinctively, her body relaxing into the familiar comfort of the mattress.

He pulled the blanket up to her chin, tucking it around her shoulders with care.

Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead.

Soft and light.

She didn’t stir.

He straightened, looking down at her for another long moment. The anger hadn’t vanished. But neither had the love. They existed together now, tangled up in his chest like everything else about her.

He glanced at the clock. 4:30 AM.

Too early to be awake. Too late to go back to sleep.

He walked to the window and stood there, his bandaged hand pressed against the glass.

Hours later.

Bella woke slowly, stretching against the softness of the bed.

Her eyes opened. Blinked. Opened wider.

She was in bed.

She remembered the floor. The cold. The uncomfortable position she’d chosen so she could stay near him.

But now she was here. Warm. Covered. In their bed.

A slow smile spread across her face.

Even though he was angry, furious really, he still cared. He’d found her on that cold floor and carried her to bed. Tucked her in.

Her heart swelled.

She turned her head, searching for him.

The couch was empty. The pillow still there, but no Leo.

She sat up, looking around the room. The bathroom door was open and empty. The closet door was ajar, his side missing several suits. The room felt hollow without him.

Bella sighed, pressing her palms to her eyes for a moment. Then she swung her legs out of bed and got ready.

She took a shower and fixed her hair. She put on a soft blue dress, the one he liked. Then a little makeup, just enough to look awake. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

She went downstairs.

The dining room was quiet. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting everything in warm gold. And there he was.

Leo sat at the head of the table, a cup of coffee in front of him, his phone in one hand. He was scrolling through something, emails probably or reports. He wore a dark suit, perfectly tailored, the jacket fitted across his broad shoulders. His hair was styled back. His jaw was clean-shaven.

He looked gorgeous.

Absolutely, devastatingly gorgeous.

And completely untouchable.

Bella’s heart clenched.

She walked toward the table, her footsteps soft against the marble floor. She sat across from him, folding her hands in her lap.

"Leo."

He didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge her. Just kept scrolling.

She sighed quietly. Still angry. Of course.

The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. A servant appeared, pouring her coffee and setting a plate of food in front of her. She murmured thanks, but didn’t touch anything.

Then—

"Isabella."