Too Late, Mr. Cooper: Your Bride Ran with Your Baby novel Chapter 174

"If you truly don't want me in danger, then you need to handle the person who's the source of it all."

Once again, she forced him to choose.

This time, Linton didn't hesitate. He grasped her hand tightly, bowing his head to press a kiss to her soft, pink fingertips. His expression was reverent, solemn, as if he were holding the most precious treasure of his life.

A smile curved his lips. "Liliana, let's make a deal," he said gently. "If it turns out Isabella really is the mastermind behind all this, I'll take care of her. And then..."

His eyes darkened, a fanatical obsession burning within them. His eyes were bloodshot as his cool, deep voice enunciated each word with grave intensity. "I'll marry you. We'll spend the rest of our lives together. How does that sound? Liliana... I'm begging you..."

...

In the end, Liliana didn't agree.

Linton didn't press her. Instead, he left her alone in the room to think. He wasn't in a hurry. He lowered his head, a pink Hello Kitty apron tied around his lean waist, and focused on cooking for Liliana with a detached seriousness. His handsome face shadowed with an inscrutable emotion.

*In any case,* he thought, *the love of my life is here now. In this room, in our home, just a wall away from me.*

He had plenty of time to win her back. He slowly lowered his lashes, carefully scooping the tenderly stewed beef from the pot into a bowl to cool. She couldn't run away. She was here, quietly by his side.

Sooner or later, they would make up. They would be as loving as they used to be. Everything would pass. It would all get better.

His fingertips trembled uncontrollably, a deep-seated fear hidden in the depths of his eyes, his lips pale. He didn't even know what he was afraid of.

He picked up the tray and went back downstairs. The dishes he'd made for her still sat on the kitchen counter: beef stew with potatoes, pan-fried chicken wings, stir-fried greens...

All her favorites. He remembered her preferences perfectly, making everything slightly sweet, just for her. He was still wearing the pink apron. It was a style she liked; he'd seen one in the house she had sold and had made a mental note to buy the exact same one.

Linton leaned his tall frame against the wall, picked up his phone, and dialed a number, his expression impassive.

"Hello?" The lazy, roguish drawl of Liam came through the line. A flicker of malice crossed Linton's eyes. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and sneered.

"How much do you know about Isabella?"