Blizzard, First Love and a Wife Who Finally Snaps novel Chapter 36

Isabel tried to pull the seatbelt with her right hand, but she didn’t dare use too much force and steadied it with her left.

It felt a little stronger.

The wounds had healed, and as long as she didn’t grip too hard, it didn’t hurt.

Dylan glanced over and started the car only after she had buckled up, a faint smile on his lips.

...

The old man had chosen a small restaurant tucked away in an alley.

It was clean and simple, a suitable place for him to dine out without attracting unwanted attention.

But the food here was excellent.

Isabel had been here with him before.

At the door of the private room, she clutched the hem of her clothes, her palms sweating.

Dylan, however, was completely at ease. He pushed the door open and walked right in.

Isabel followed hesitantly.

Dylan stepped aside, deliberately exposing her, and sat down on the other side of the old man.

Isabel stood in the middle of the brightly lit room, mortified.

She couldn’t even bring herself to look up.

It was the old man who spoke first. “What, still holding a grudge after six years? You won’t even sit at the same table as me?”

“No, that’s not it!” Isabel quickly denied, rushing over to pour him some tea.

The old man glanced at her right hand, where some faint scars were still visible.

A flicker of sympathy crossed his eyes.

“I don’t need you to pour my tea. Sit down.”

Isabel pressed her lips together and sat in the chair next to him.

“I’m sorry...”

“The only person you should be sorry to is yourself.”

“...”

Old Mr. Foster had been in the military; he was gruff and straightforward.

Isabel had met Dylan first and found his personality quite irksome.

If it weren’t for his professional competence and their seamless collaboration, she really wouldn’t have wanted to be his partner.

Later, when she found out Old Mr. Foster was his grandfather, she was quite surprised.

She never thought Old Mr. Foster could raise someone with Dylan’s personality.

But at times, she could see a glimmer of resemblance.

They were definitely family.

“Regardless,” Isabel poured herself a cup of tea and stood up to face Old Mr. Foster. “I must apologize to you. My hand prevents me from drinking alcohol, so I’ll use tea instead.”

“I’ll drink three cups.”

With that, she downed three cups of tea.

Old Mr. Foster waved his hand dismissively and got straight to the point. “What’s the deal with your Y-2?”