The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 150: The Worried Luca

"Opehlia, love," Isabella called out gently, her voice like a soft melody. Opehlia’s head snapped up immediately, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity and a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Isabella couldn’t help the small, almost imperceptible sigh that escaped her. How could she ever be mad at this girl?

The thought weighed heavily on her heart. Originally, she had planned to change Opehlia—teach her to be shrewd and sharp, so that no one could take advantage of her innocent nature. So that the world wouldn’t chew her up and spit her out. But as Isabella watched the girl now, her heart softened, and all those plans seemed to slip away like sand through her fingers.

Opehlia’s wide eyes glittered, waiting for the answer that seemed to hang in the air, a delicate moment suspended between them. And in that instant, Isabella couldn’t bring herself to crush that innocent enthusiasm. The girl truly was a walking bundle of hope and curiosity.

Isabella’s lips curled into a smile, both tender and mysterious. "You’ll just have to wait and see," she teased, her voice soft yet firm.

Opehlia’s eyes sparkled with excitement, but before she could ask another barrage of questions, Isabella held up a hand. "Now, let’s eat." She shifted her attention to the fruit in her hands, hoping to divert the girl’s relentless curiosity before it got out of control.

Just as they were about to settle into a moment of peace, heavy footsteps approached from behind. The air seemed to shift as a familiar figure stepped into view, his brows furrowed in frustration and exhaustion.

Luca.

His brow glistened with sweat, and his usually neatly stright hair was messy, sticking to his forehead in a way that told Isabella this man had been through something far from casual. He was out of breath, too, as if he’d been running for a very long time searching for something—or someone.

"Isabella, do you know where Shelia is?" he asked immediately, his voice tight and full of urgency.

Isabella blinked in disbelief, the question hanging in the air, completely unexpected. Was he really still looking for Shelia?

The last time she checked, Shelia had been sick, and it seemed like no one had any answers—just frustration and evasion.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Luca, why do you keep looking for Shelia? I told you, she’s sick." Her tone was dismissive, but she couldn’t hide the tiny frown forming on her face as she took in his appearance. Something about him seemed... off. There was a tension in the way he stood, something far more than just the frustration of a missing person.

Isabella’s gaze shifted over him—sweaty, disheveled hair, the exhaustion etched into every inch of his body. He looked like he’d been searching the palace for hours. "What happened to you?" she asked, genuinely concerned now. "Did you fight a behemoth?"

She grinned playfully, hoping to lighten the mood.

But Luca just scowled, his frustration palpable. "Tsk. I searched the whole palace for her and still couldn’t find her," he muttered, his hands gripping his sides as if the effort had physically drained him.

Opehlia, standing beside Isabella, gasped. "The whole palace?" Her eyes went wide, and her mouth hung open. "But the palace is huge!"

Isabella couldn’t help but chuckle at Opehlia’s shocked expression, but Luca’s words had already shifted her mood. There was something deeper here, something she wasn’t understanding. She bit her lip, her fingers twitching at her sides as she considered the situation.

"And none of my friends at the palace are giving me any information," Luca added, the frustration deepening in his voice. He looked to Isabella for answers, but Isabella’s mind was already spinning.

Something wasn’t right. freēwēbnovel.com

She gave a small, sympathetic smile, trying to mask the unease gnawing at her. "If I knew where she was, I’d tell you." Isabella’s voice softened, attempting to comfort Luca, but the tension remained in her chest. "Now, eat some fruit and loosen up. You look way too tense."

She gestured to the fruit with a small grin, hoping to distract him from his growing worry.

"And besides," she added casually, "I’m pretty sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s just too ill, and Kian doesn’t want anyone disturbing her."

Luca blinked, his body relaxing slightly at her words, but there was still a cloud of concern hanging over him. Opehlia, ever trusting, nodded along, believing every word Isabella said.

But Cyrus—Cyrus wasn’t fooled.

He could read Isabella like an open book. Her emotions, her thoughts, everything. He was starting to become really good at reading her.

And right now, he could see the worry clouding her expression, the tension in her shoulders, the subtle shift in her eyes as she looked away for just a moment too long.

It wasn’t just the worry for Shelia. It was something more. Isabella was hiding something—something important.

Cyrus’s mind was already working through the details, his thoughts turning cold and calculated. She plans to investigate on her own.

And that was something he didn’t like. Not at all.

He wasn’t about to let her roam the palace on her own, to risk whatever was happening with Shelia alone. No. He wasn’t waiting around for her to go off on some solo mission.

Instead, he made a mental note right then and there—once they were done here, he would search for Shelia himself. He’d take the stress off of her shoulders, even if she didn’t ask for it.

It was a decision he made without a second thought.

Cyrus remembered Isabella was still sick. Although she looked a lot better—her color warmer, her eyes less glazed—he still noticed the way she shifted subtly from foot to foot, as if she couldn’t quite find a comfortable way to stand. Her movements were fluid, but they carried that silent edge of fatigue. She was hiding it well, maybe too well.

He narrowed his eyes, watching her from the corner of his gaze. She didn’t want anyone to worry. That was just like her.

Just as he was about to step forward and offer himself—to take something off her plate, to ease her load even just a little—Isabella turned toward him, her expression soft.

"Won’t you eat?" she asked, holding up a ripe fruit toward him. Her smile was gentle, but he could see how her fingers trembled just slightly as she lifted it. No one else would notice it—but Cyrus did.

His face broke into a quiet, sweet smile. Her thoughtfulness never failed to catch him off guard. But before he could say anything in return, Isabella’s expression shifted. The corners of her mouth pulled downward, and a frown overtook her features like a sudden cloud blotting out the sun.