"Don't worry, just be sincere and do your best," Hayden reassured. Patrick and Debra nodded, weary from the day. That evening, Bryce joined them, offering comfort and scolding Charlie for his gloating.

Charlie, however, remained unrepentant. He’d long resented Adrian for preventing his visits to Isabella and Damian, and now, relishing his newfound freedom, the Carters planned a visit the next day.

Meanwhile, Adrian sat numbly before Isabella's door. His legs ached, his knocks unanswered. Inside, Isabella cooked, her mood as dark as the storm brewing within. Damian, usually engrossed in play, kept glancing at the door. More knocks. Silence. Finally, Adrian slumped to the ground, his heart aching. "So this is love?" he whispered, "She's angry, maybe she doesn't want me anymore."

Isabella finished dinner, noticing too late she’d only cooked for two. She forced a smile for Damian. "Dinner time, sweetie."

Damian, ever sensible, washed his hands. He ate, then hesitated. "Mommy, Daddy's outside."

"Ignore him," Isabella said sharply.

But Damian, after a moment, grabbed a plate and fork. "I'll get Daddy," he declared, and dashed to the door.

Adrian, startled by the opening door, saw not Isabella, but Damian. "Dinner time, Daddy," Damian said simply, returning to his meal.

Adrian, hesitant but hopeful, entered, noticing the extra place setting. A goofy grin spread across his face. He served them both, his usual composure restored. Isabella blocked his fork. His smile faltered.

"I didn't lie," Adrian stammered, "I hid my identity because…I know you don't like rich people. But the Carters are different. We're not like that."

Isabella stared at him. Damian, meanwhile, sought meat.

Adrian, picking at his food, felt a familiar unease. "I'm investigating Carly's case," he explained, "Someone destroyed the evidence, but we're recovering it. If you want to overturn the case, I can help."

Isabella stiffened, remembering Carly, a wave of anger towards the wealthy washing over her. Then her phone rang—Carly.