The Billionaire's Pretend Wife (Isabella)
Chapter 8 Eight

Isabelle was taking in the spectacle unfolding before her when Jacob took her hand and led her towards the front door. Of all the ways she had expected Jacob's visit to go, that was definitely not one of them. She could still hear her mother and sister's grumbling as the door closed behind them.

Jacob kept his hold on her hand all the way to the front of the house. When he let go, he came to a stop and regarded her. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming to your parents' house?"

She looked towards the door, half-expecting her mother to appear with more flattering words for Jacob. While she did, she jogged her brain for an excuse to give Jacob. It wasn't as if she could tell him that she came to collect money that her parents had promised on account that she married him...

"Isabelle?" Jacob's voice urged.

Looking away from the door, she faced him and said, "I'm sorry about that. When I left the house, I got a call from my father asking me to come by immediately. I didn't have time to tell you."

She remembered that when she left their house that morning, he had asked where she was heading to, and she had refused to tell him. Hopefully if he thought her trip to her family's home came up after she left, he wouldn't question her any more.

"You should have told me," Jacob told her. "It looks like with me around, they wouldn't have dared to treat you like that."

Isabelle met his gaze for a few seconds and then looked away. She wished she could read him. Exactly how much of the argument had he heard? If he heard the part about her taking Naomi's place to marry him, everything would crumble. She couldn't afford that when her parents' were already bringing up excuses to not fulfil their part of the deal.

"It wasn't all that serious," she said. Rubbing her arms, she asked, "How much did you hear, anyway?" She laughed awkwardly. "It's so embarrassing that you witnessed my family fight."

If she pretended that her major worry was saving face, he wouldn't suspect that she was hiding something, right?

"Just your mother asking you to leave and your sister pushing you out of the door," he replied.

She released the breath she was holding. Good. And it didn't sound like he was lying. If he had heard more, how could he remain so calm? Plus, when he went into the house, the only issue he brought up was how Naomi and Lucy treated her. If he heard anything about how they switched brides, he surely wouldn't have ignored that.

"They didn't hit you or anything, right?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and taking a step back to inspect her. He looked her over, from head to her shoes, as if looking for any sign of physical harm. As if he was ready to storm back into the house and raise more hell if anyone did hit her.

She shook her head, his gesture catching her by surprise. Was this all part of acting like a couple in public? "No, they didn't." When he released her, she asked, "Why did you defend me? You didn't hear the entire argument. Maybe I was the one in the wrong."

"You are my wife," he replied. "I must take your side. It doesn't matter to me who was right."

"But we are just a pretend couple."

"You are still my wife," he said. "Besides, we are in public. I said I would treat you like my wife when we are in company, didn't I?"

So that was how he would treat his real wife? She hadn't expected a pretend husband to really step up to the role. And if this was how he would treat his real wife, that showed he was a much better man that the rumours had portrayed. To think that he was doing the same for her when they were just pretending...he must be a true gentleman.

Also, remembering the way he had put Lucy and Naomi in their place filled her with a feeling of happiness. All along, when the two bullied her, no one defended her. Her adoptive father was usually quickly silenced by her mother, in the same way she had done just that morning. It was a nice break to have someone stand up for her. Even better, to not only defend her, but also effectively silence her mother and sister. It was almost as if he truly cared for her.

"Why are you smiling?"

Jacob's voice brought her back down to earth and she immediately wiped off the smile she hadn't even noticed had formed.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Nothing." It wasn't as if she could admit her rosy thoughts to him. Her eyes wandered to Kevin, who was standing to the side with the shopping bags. "About the gifts...they are not genuine, right?"

Jacob followed her gaze and shoved his hands in his pants' pockets. "They are, but I actually borrowed them." He looked back at her. "I know that's not very manly of me, but I didn't want your family to ridicule you if I brought cheap gifts."

Isabelle shook her head instantly. "Oh no, you don't have to do that for me. Forget them, I don't really care what they think. If they have a problem with your status, that's on them. It's not an issue to me." It warmed her heart even more that when he borrowed the gifts, it wasn't to save his own face, but to protect her from her family. He must have figured they would do something like that after the way Naomi behaved at the wedding. Heavens, if he kept taking care of her like this, she might just forget all this was just for show.

On the other hand, Jacob couldn't believe what he was hearing. But he figured that after everything he had witnessed so far, he really should stop getting surprised at how kind Isabelle appeared to be. At this rate, he could stop waiting for what he thought was her true personality to appear. He had a feeling he was already witnessing the real deal.

"Just make sure you keep them safe because if any of them gets damaged, we will not be able to compensate the owner," she added. "Of course," he told her.

It occurred to him that if Isabelle was anything like he had been told, keeping the gifts safe for return would be the last thing on her mind. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

No, she would be more like her mother and sister, salivating over them and demanding to keep them so she could dress glamorously. She wouldn't spare a thought about how he would be able to afford to pay them back when he was apparently jobless.

She would hate the fact that her husband was too poor that he had to borrow gifts to impress her family. And she definitely wouldn't assure him that she didn't care about his status.

At this point, it seemed that nothing he had heard about her checked out. It was clear that if he wanted to know the kind of woman he was married to, he would have to forget what he had heard and start paying attention to her instead.

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