42. Isabel
Isabel
My grandfather’s funeral was this morning.
I thought saying goodbye would be the hardest part. It wasn’t. Watching my grandmother break all over again… that’s what will stay with me. The way she looked at his casket as if waiting for him to wake up, like this was all just a horrible dream.
The penthouse doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels empty. Too still. Like the walls are holding their breath, waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.
I’ve made a tough choice. After today, his death will be my secret.
I know it’s a lie. I know what it means. But I’ve learned that sometimes the truth does more harm than good. She’ll be told he’s away on business and that he’s entrusted me with her care until he returns.
There will be days when she’ll remember. When the truth hits her all over again. I’m prepared to deal with that, help her through it.
But if I can give her even a little peace in between, isn’t that worth it? It’s better than forcing her to live in that pain every single day. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, but right now, it feels like the only thing I can do.
“Come sit with me.” Grams pats the bench beside her, her eyes already fixed on the painting. “Let me tell you about this one.”
I join her, ready to soak it all in. She’s been like this all week, drifting between then and now. She’s clinging to memories of her past as her present life slips away.
I’ve learned not to interrupt. Not to pull her back when she wanders.
It only leaves her unsettled. So, I stay where her mind is, meeting her in whatever version of the moment she’s in.
I can’t prove if her tales are true or mixed, and I’ve decided to let it go.
What’s done is done. No good can come from digging up the past. Not for us.
“How long have you had this Grimshaw?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
She reaches over and lays her frail hand on my arm. “I bought this one not long after Rico and I married. One of his clients was selling it, and I had to have it.” Her eyes linger on the painting. “It’s beautiful, don’t you agree?”
“It is.” I watch her instead of the art, holding onto this version of her while it’s still here. She’ll tell me more about it when she’s ready.
“I offered them fair value for it. The husband laughed in my face, so I walked away.” Her voice shifts, a mischievous tone slips through. “That night, I went back and replaced it with the counterfeit one I’d been working on.”
I stay quiet. Letting her finish. This isn’t the first time she’s mentioned counterfeits.
“It took them two years to realize,” she continues. “They had it appraised for auction and were told it was an extraordinarily convincing forgery. No one could explain how it happened. They never suspected me.”
“Seriously?” I glance over, unable to hide the curiosity in my voice.
Her smile curves, like she’s been waiting for that reaction. “They even tried to sell me the counterfeit at the price I’d originally offered.”
My jaw drops. “What did you tell them?”
Each time I hear these stories, it blows my mind to think that my sweet, proper grandmother was once a notorious art thief.
Her smile, full of unspoken understanding, meets my gaze with a knowing grin.
“What did you tell them?”
“To go to hell,” she laughs. “I came across the original during a trip to Morocco. An estate sale of a very wealthy North Sea oil family. Bought it on sight and had it shipped to me.” A silent, knowing look passes between us as our smiles meet.
“Once everything was properly documented, I hung it in my gallery and invited the couple over to come and admire the real thing.”
“I thought you didn’t let others see your collection.” That’s what she’d always told me. That it was too valuable, too tempting. Ironic, considering she never hesitated when something caught her eye.
She rises slowly and steps closer to the painting, studying it like it holds something only she can see. “Sometimes it was worth the risk,” she says quietly. “Just to watch their smug faces change.”
When she looks back, there’s a knowing expression in her eyes. “They understood soon enough. Realizing their mistake was turning down my first offer. A mistake they never made again.”
Taking a few steps to her left, she runs her fingers along the frame’s edge. “When I offered to purchase this one several years later, they accepted it immediately and even agreed to sell my partner three others at a more than friendly price.”
“You had a partner?” This is the first time she’s brought it up, even though I already know who he was. I want to hear her admit it. “Who?”
Shaking her head, a soft tsks follows. “He was a silent partner. I’ll never tell, that was our agreement.”
Before I can press further, movement at the doorway pulls my attention.
Silas steps just inside with Aiden beside him.
“May I admire your collection, Alma?”
Grams waves them both in, acting as if seeing Silas here is normal. “Yes, of course. I was just sharing with my granddaughter the story of how a few of these pieces joined my collection.”
Silas’s gaze drifts across the room before settling on a painting. “A collection this substantial must come with a story or two. The Botticelli, for instance… would you mind sharing how you got this one with me?”
Grams folds her arms, unimpressed. “Don’t be a pompous arse, Silas. You know very well that your mother sold me that painting.”
She lifts her chin, daring him to argue. “And no, I’m not interested in selling it back. When I’m gone, if you’re lucky, Isabel might consider it. But it’ll cost you—top dollar, plus a finder’s fee.”
“Deal.” His smile is easy, and when he looks at me, there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Your grandmother is one hell of a negotiator.”
Stepping closer, he lowers his voice. “I wanted to say goodbye… and offer my condolences again. I hear you’re returning to Oxford tomorrow. Glad to see they allowed you to finish the year without holding your unfortunate absence against you.”
It’s not something I can prove, but I’m pretty sure more than one person gave the dean a stern talking to.
Jen fought for me, told her superiors my circumstances were unique and out of my control.
They agreed all too quickly. Added me back onto the rotation under Dr. Hilbert, with a promise my time with Dr. Grieves had been fulfilled.
I can’t complain about that. He wasn’t happy, but fuck if I care.
He’ll find his next target and make their time with him a living hell. I’m just glad it won’t be me.
“I’m looking forward to getting back to work,” I say. “Grams will be joining me. I’ve arranged for her in-house nurse to come as well.”
My gaze shifts past him, landing where it shouldn’t—to the man who makes my heart race. “We’ll make it back to London when my schedule allows.”
Silas glances over his shoulder, something unreadable crossing his face. “You haven’t told her yet?”
A small crease forms between my brows. “Told me what?”
Aiden rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed, but stays quiet.
My thoughts drift back to the hospital a few days ago.
Trent didn’t want to hear it, but I told him anyway.
He needed to step down. It was his only option if he wanted to remain living.
The stress alone ruined any chance of a full recovery.
And somewhere in that conversation, I admitted something I hadn’t planned on.
I wasn’t ready to bury another family member.
The words still sit heavy. The truth will never be made public, but that doesn’t make the fact I’m his daughter less true. Everything between us has changed.
And since I’m a doctor, it gives me a reason to stay close, especially since I’m the one who saved his life.
Lately, I’ve been considering cardiology.
He’ll need one of those, and I’ve developed an interest. It’ll mean more training.
But I’m hoping I have that covered, too, as long as we didn’t burn that bridge after the Rurik incident. Time will tell.
Aiden already told me what the world believes.
Silas is the new Captain.
Trent is retired.
The truth doesn’t set well with me. Trent will keep watching. This is a test to see how well his son does. But he won’t sit back and do nothing. Not while he’s still alive. This will be a trial run of sorts. It will only truly be given to Silas once Trent is dead. That’s the way it’s always worked.
Silas doesn’t say it outright, but he doesn’t need to. I see it in the way he looks at me, the way he speaks, like something has already settled into place.
His soft spot. He knows. I’m his sister.
No one told him, but he’s a smart man. The brooch, the timing, the details that didn’t quite line up until they suddenly did. And once he knew, he didn’t pull away. He stepped closer.
He’s already shared pieces of her with me. Stories about my mother I’d never heard before. Small moments, quiet memories. Things that make her feel real in a way she never has.
I should be more conflicted about all of this. About him. About what he is. But I’m not. Because no matter what he’s done… he’s still my brother. And I’m not ready to turn my back on that, not before I understand where that might lead.
“I fired him.” Silas clicks his tongue, disappointment flickering across his face.
“He’s an incompetent prick, and I won’t have a man like him working for the new captain of the Doyle family.
Typically, the only way out of the family is death—but I have a soft spot for you.
So, when Darius Falcon came calling, we came up with a better solution. ”
I glance toward Aiden, catching his annoyed expression, the one that tells me how he’d love to put Silas in his place, before turning back.
“Darius floated an idea that benefits us both,” Silas says, his tone light but calculated.
“Because let’s be honest—a princess marrying into the Doyle family would be a public relations nightmare, all the way around.
Our families have a mutual enemy. The Del Markovs.
Enemies have a way of encouraging a truce. ”
“Shut up,” Aiden grunts. “You are so full of shit it’s embarrassing.”
“See how he talks to me,” Silas leans over and presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “Anyone else would be eating a bullet for talking to me like that. Best if he moves along before I decide to prove a point.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying but failing to keep a straight face. “For everything.”
As Silas walks toward my grandmother, he nods. “Take care, Alma. I think I’ll let your granddaughter keep this one after all. It’s what Sofia would’ve wanted, don’t you agree?”
She tilts her head in agreement. “Sofia would’ve been a good partner after me, you know? Too bad things turned out as they did.”
Resting a hand on her shoulder, his expression softens. “I don’t know. I think in the end it all worked out the way it should.” Then, almost like he needs to pull away from the weight of it, he points to one of her erotic sculptures. “Where the hell did you even get that?”
My grandmother grins as she walks over to the penis sculpture and runs her hand along the metal.
“I made it. These are my creations.” She looks back at us. “Aren’t they absolutely beautiful?”
Aiden is behind me now. “Is that true?”
I lean into him and say with confidence. “I have no fucking clue, but what’s the harm in letting her believe she did, even if it’s a little white lie.”
Resting my head back against him, I let the moment settle around us. The gallery feels different now. Not empty or heavy… just quieter.
I take it all in.
What I’ve lost, what I’ve found, and everything in between. It’s not perfect. Nothing ever is. But this is my life, my reality. And for now… it’s enough.