Chapter 165: Operation: Fake Getaway
Two days post-hospital and my body was back to cooperating with gravity—mostly. I’d graduated from sleepwear to sweatpants, and for once, the house was quiet. Until Adrien’s car pulled up out front like it belonged in a Bond film and not a suburban driveway.
Aria was in the kitchen, pretending to make tea but 100% conducting surveillance, Leo was filming a "What The Rich Drive" vlog on the porch (unapproved and unnoticed, obviously), and Dad was wiping imaginary dust off the living room window like it owed him fifteen years of unpaid child support.
"Isabella," he called, already standing at the door like a sentinel. "Your... boyfriend, Mr. Washington, is here."
Adrien stepped inside like the air bent around him on impact. Mr. Washington, as far as my family was concerned.
Shirt unbuttoned at the collar, watch glinting like it could buy a neighborhood. A bouquet of white tulips in one hand, car keys in the other. And that look—serious, calm, the one that always meant he’d already decided something and my input was just a polite afterthought.
"Good afternoon, sir," Adrien said, with the exact tone of voice that could get someone out of jail—or into Congress.
Dad raised his eyebrows. "Afternoon." His arms crossed. This was the stance he used for discipline, budget negotiations, and once, the pizza guy who overcharged him for extra cheese.
"So," Dad said slowly, "you want to take my daughter for three days."
Adrien nodded. "Yes."
"Three nights is long."
Adrien didn’t flinch. "She deserves longer."
God. Of course he had to say that. Charm level: weaponized.