Chapter 289: My Love for You Will Never Change
Mrs. Joyce understood perfectly. She knew better than anyone what the Sterling Family’s status was in Aston.
It went beyond mere approval. She practically worshipped them.
If the Joyce Family could actually secure a marriage alliance with the Sterling Family, it would be an incredible blessing for them—all benefit and no drawback.
Moreover, Sean Sterling was the Sterling Family’s sole heir. He had no brothers or sisters. In the future, the entire family business, their network, and all their assets would fall into his hands alone. There would be no one to compete with him.
Any girl who married into the Sterling Family would live a life of luxury and splendor for the rest of her days. She would have endless blessings, inexhaustible wealth, and never have to worry about her livelihood for her entire life.
The more Mrs. Joyce thought about it, the more excited she became. A gleam appeared in her eyes.
"Alright, I’ll call Mrs. Donovan right now and find out what the situation is."
After hanging up, Mrs. Joyce couldn’t wait another second. She frantically searched her contacts for Yvonne Donovan’s number.
She and Yvonne Donovan had been university classmates, and both were Aston natives. They also frequently ran into each other at the dinner parties and cocktail receptions of their social circle.
Their relationship wasn’t one of best friends who shared their deepest secrets, but they maintained a cordial friendship. They were certainly close enough for casual pleasantries or to ask for a bit of information.
Suppressing her anticipation, Mrs. Joyce took a deep breath and decisively pressed the call button.
A moment later, a voice sounded in her ear, "We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off."
...
When Sean Sterling returned home, the warm light in the foyer slowly brightened.
He casually hung his coat on the coat rack, rolled up the cuffs of his neatly ironed shirt, and walked to the bathroom to carefully wash his hands.
In the bedroom, Isla Griffith was leaning against the headboard, scrolling through her phone. The light from the bedside lamp illuminated her face, making her appear gentle and serene.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up toward the door, a sweet smile playing on her lips.
"You’re finally back."
Sean Sterling walked to the side of the bed and leaned over. He cradled the back of Isla’s head with one large hand, his fingertips stroking her soft hair, and without a word, he lowered his head to kiss her.
...
His kiss was light and soft, filled with a tender longing after his time away. It was gentle and lingering, and he kissed her for a long time before they finally parted.
"My little lazy cat didn’t get out of bed, just as I thought." Sean’s deep voice was especially pleasant in the quiet room, thick with a tenderness that wouldn’t dissipate.
Isla raised her arms to circle his neck, her bright eyes fixed on him.
"I was waiting for you."
Sean’s heart melted, and he bent down to kiss her forehead again.
"Good girl. I’ll go get the chicken soup and bring it in to feed you."
With that, he got up and left for the kitchen. He ladled a large bowl of chicken soup from a clay pot.
He skimmed the layer of oil from the surface, revealing a clear, rich broth. The aroma filled the air.
Sean returned to the bedroom, carrying the porcelain bowl.
"It smells amazing." Isla smelled the fragrant chicken soup, and her craving was instantly piqued. She pushed herself away from the pillows and sat up straight.
A constant smile on his face, Sean sat on the edge of the bed. He scooped up a spoonful of soup, brought it to his own lips to blow on it gently, and then held it to Isla’s mouth.
"It tastes even better than it smells. Here, try it. The temperature is just right, not too hot."
Isla obediently opened her mouth and took a small sip. Warmth spread from her tongue to her heart. The soup was savory and fragrant.
Her eyes crinkled into a gentle crescent as she smiled, and she generously gave Sean a thumbs-up.
"This is amazing. It’s even better than the chicken soup from a five-star hotel."
Amused by her earnest expression, Sean chuckled. "You just know how to sweet-talk me."
Isla looked at him. "I’m not sweet-talking you. It’s really that good. You have some too."
"There’s still more in the pot. I’ll have some later. Let’s get you fed first."
"Then I won’t hold back."
Sean patiently fed Isla, spoonful by spoonful, the two of them exchanging a few words now and then. The soft light fell upon them, creating a warm and blissful atmosphere.
Soon, Isla had finished the entire large bowl of chicken soup, leaving not even a piece of chicken behind.
Sean put the bowl down and picked up a wet wipe to gently clean the corners of her mouth, pampering her like a little princess.
"What else do you want to eat?"
Isla thought for a moment, then her eyes suddenly brightened. "A little cake."
Sean affectionately booped her on the nose. "Just a moment."
Isla quickly grabbed his hand. "Are you going out to buy one? I was just saying. We can have it tomorrow. Don’t go out now, it’s too late."
Sean: "I already bought one. It’s on the coffee table. Sweetheart, let go, I’ll go get it."
Isla’s eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really."
Sean got up and went to the living room.
Isla saw him return holding a cake, and it was her favorite kind—a strawberry cream cake.
The surprise made her heart feel so sweet it was as if it were bubbling over with pink happiness. She threw herself into Sean’s arms and hugged him tightly.
"You know me so well."
Sean gave a knowing smile. "Will you eat it yourself or should I feed you?"
Isla: "I’ll eat it myself."
She took the cake and small spoon and eagerly began to eat, her eyes crinkling in satisfaction.
"So sweet, but not cloying at all."
Next, Isla scooped up a large spoonful of cake and held it to Sean’s lips. "You have a bite, too."
Sean didn’t actually like sweets, especially things like cake. But if Isla was the one feeding him, he suddenly found he liked it.
He lowered his head and obediently swallowed the cake.
"It really is sweet."
"Is it good?"
"It’s good."
Isla scooped up another spoonful to feed Sean. "If it’s good, have another."
Not wanting to spoil her mood, Sean obediently opened his mouth again and ate the cake.
"The cake isn’t big. If I eat more, you won’t have any left."
Isla smiled. "Then next time, buy two. We can each have one."
Sean hugged her. "Okay."
Leaning in Sean’s arms, Isla finished the rest of the cake, bite by bite.
She was so absorbed in eating that she didn’t notice a bit of cream on the corner of her mouth, looking like a small, soft cloud in the warm light.
Sean saw it. His gaze darkened, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
He suddenly bent his head, his warm breath brushing against Isla’s cheek. "Don’t move," he said, his voice low, husky, and intimate.
"What’s wrong?"
Before Isla could react, Sean’s lips were on hers.
His soft lips gently covered the corner of her mouth, tenderly kissing away that bit of cream.
Isla blushed shyly and chided, "Sean Sterling, you’re stealing food."
Sean let out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating as he tightened his arms around her.
"The cream on your lips is sweeter than anything else."
"Sweet-talker!"
The man laughed even more heartily.
Just then, Isla’s nose brushed against Sean’s collar. A faint scent of disinfectant, mixed with his own clean, crisp smell, wafted into her nostrils.
’He said he had to go out for something... he must have gone to the hospital.’
Isla pursed her lips and remained silent. She subtly nestled closer into the crook of Sean’s neck, her eyes carefully scanning his face, not missing a single detail.
’No new slap marks. No redness or swelling. No injuries.’
The weight in Isla’s heart lifted. She remained snuggled against him, acting as if she hadn’t noticed a thing.
"What are you looking at, hmm?"
Sean took Isla’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
Isla answered frankly, "I’m checking to see if the slap mark on your face has faded."
Sean didn’t think much of it. "It faded this morning. Don’t worry."
Isla nodded. "In the future, try to talk things out with your dad. Don’t make him angry."
Sean gave a low hum of assent.
He didn’t tell Isla that his mother had been hospitalized after fainting from anger. He was afraid she would blame herself and feel pressured.
"Everything will be okay. No matter what happens, my love for you won’t change."
"Me too."
The night passed in tender affection. As the sky began to lighten, the city slowly stirred to life.
Unable to reach Yvonne Donovan, Mrs. Joyce hadn’t slept well all night.
The thought of a marriage alliance, far from fading, had instead grown wildly in her mind like a weed.
After mulling it over, she decided to take the initiative and visit the Sterling residence that day to speak with Yvonne Donovan face-to-face.