Isabella Austin sat helplessly on the edge of the bed, calling for Dennis Lane. The family doctor trailed after the little boy, coaxing him with endless patience, while even Kevin Lane—usually so dignified-lowered himself to gently comfort his great- grandson.

But Dennis wouldn't listen or look back. His short legs carried him across the room in a flash.

No matter how hard the doctor tried, medicine bottle in hand, he just couldn't catch him.

Sighing, Isabella pleaded, "Dennis, come here, sweetheart. The medicine won't hurt, I promise. Be good once we're done, it'll heal quickly."

She hadn't expected Dennis to actually listen, but to her surprise, he dashed straight into her arms.

"Mommy, can we go find Daddy now?" Dennis asked, his face pressed against her shoulder.

Isabella's eyes dimmed for a moment, but she answered gently, "Daddy's still talking business with that lady. Let's wait a little, okay? We need to put the medicine on first."

Dennis pouted. "But I want to go now. Just for a peek-please, Mommy, just a peek?"

He spoke in his sweet, childish voice, "Mommy, I saw it on TV-the bad lady always tries to steal Daddy away. You have to watch Daddy, or she'll take him from you."

Isabella's expression faltered. “Dennis, what are you—?”

"Dennis Lane." The stern voice at the doorway made Isabella's heart jump.

She quickly composed herself. "Andrew, I thought you were still talking business with Emily. Why are you here?"

Dennis's wide eyes showed a flicker of fear. "Daddy."

Andrew Lane stepped into the room, his tone clipped. "I heard Dennis. I came to check on him."

His gaze swept over the family doctor and the bottle of medicine, and in a heartbeat, he pieced together what had happened. His voice was low and commanding. "Dennis, are you refusing your medicine?"

Dennis's lip trembled. "Daddy, my knee is bleeding and it hurts. I don't want the medicine-it stings."

Andrew exchanged a look with the doctor, then said coolly, "Dennis, I won't say it again."

Ever since he was small, Dennis had feared that tone from his father. It meant there was no room for argument—he had to obey, or there would be consequences.

He was still just a child, but he knew his father loved him, even if he was strict. And that was enough to make him behave.

Cautiously, Dennis shuffled over to the doctor and sat down, sticking out his injured leg. "You can do it now, Doctor. I won't scream or run away."

Grandpa Kevin smiled reassuringly. "That's my good boy, Dennis."

The scrape on Dennis's knee wasn't serious, but he'd always been coddled-he could hardly stand a hint of pain. No matter how gently the doctor dabbed the medicine, Dennis's little face went pale, and fat tears slid down his cheeks.

Isabella's heart ached for her son, but there was something else weighing on her mind.

She moved closer to Andrew, lowering her voice. "How did your talk go?"

Andrew met her gaze. "What do you want to know?"

She hesitated, then asked, "Did you sell the rights to Black and White Rabbit to Emily?"

The silence stretched, and Isabella's anxiety grew.

The copyright to Black and White Rabbit meant the world to her. Andrew had bought it because he knew she loved it, commissioning a whole game for her sake that would soon be released. It was a symbol of his affection—a gift she treasured. The thought of him giving it away, especially to another woman, was unbearable.

Most of all, to Emily Blair.