His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 785 Who is crying?

Bella’s heart ached for her. Winter’s tears had soaked into her shirt, leaving a dark, damp spot on her shoulder. She could feel Winter’s body trembling, just slightly, like a leaf in a gentle wind.

"Don’t cry," Bella said softly, rubbing Winter’s back in slow, soothing circles. "You have me. You have Sister Scarlett and Hazel."

Winter raised her head.

Her dark eyes were wide, shocked, glistening with fresh tears. She looked at Bella’s face, then at her eyes, searching for something. Mockery maybe or pity, or the hidden joke that always seemed to be there when people were kind to her.

She found neither.

Bella turned to look at Scarlett and Hazel. "Right?" she asked.

Scarlett blinked. She had been watching the exchange with an unreadable expression, her arms crossed, her lips pressed together in a thin line. But at Bella’s question, her face softened.

"Yeah, yeah," Scarlett said, waving her hand dismissively, like she was shooing away a fly. "If you’re uncomfortable or feeling lonely here, you can tell us. Bella’s friend is our friend. That’s how it works."

Hazel nodded, her scarred face gentle, her dark eyes warm. "We take care of each other," she said simply. "That’s what family does."

Winter stared at them.

Her lips trembled. Her hands, resting in her lap, curled into loose fists.

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted.

"Ladies? Who is crying?"

Dominique appeared beside them, leaning over the back of a seat, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his smile wide and charming. He looked like he had stepped out of a magazine, even in casual clothes.

Winter’s tears stopped immediately.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, quick and efficient, her expression snapping back to its usual blankness like a mask being clicked into place.

"No one," Scarlett said, making a shooing gesture with her hands. "Go away, you dummy man."

Dominique clutched his chest, his face a picture of offense. "Dummy man? I am a prince. A prince charming! I have been told I have the face of a Greek god and the voice of an angel."

"A prince who doesn’t know when to leave ladies alone."

"I was concerned! I heard crying. My sensitive heart could not bear it."

"You were nosy."

Dominique looked at Winter, his dark eyes soft, his smile fading into something more genuine. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Winter nodded once. Her face was blank again, unreadable, but something in her eyes flickered.

Dominique studied her for a moment, his head tilted, his brow furrowed. Then he shrugged. "Okay. But if you need anything, snacks, drinks, a pillow, a dramatic reading of poetry, I’m here."

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "A dramatic reading of poetry?"

"For emotional emergencies," Dominique said solemnly. "I have memorized several sonnets. Also a few limericks, but those are for happier occasions."

"Go away, dummy."

Dominique sighed dramatically and retreated to his seat, muttering about ungrateful women, wasted poetic talents, and how no one appreciated true art anymore.

Winter watched him go, her dark eyes following his retreating figure. Then she looked at Bella.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible, soft as breath.

Bella smiled. "That’s what friends are for."

Winter nodded slowly, her eyes still glistening but her lips no longer trembling.

She still was not sure about Scarlett, who touched too much and talked too loud. Or Hazel, who watched too closely and seemed to see too much. Or the dummy man who recited poetry for emotional emergencies and claimed to be a prince.

But Bella was here. And for now, that was enough for her.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Private airport

Jillian City

The private airport stretched out before them, luxurious and empty. The afternoon sun glinted off the runway like light dancing on water. A line of sports cars waited on the tarmac, their hoods open and engines gleaming like polished jewels. Red, black, silver, blue, each one more beautiful than the last, each one worth more than most people’s houses.

Jason stood at the front of the line, his arms spread wide and a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and his hair was windswept in a way that looked effortless but had probably taken twenty minutes to arrange.

"My dear friends," he announced, his voice echoing across the runway like a town crier announcing a royal visit. "Welcome!"

Dominique stepped off the jet stairs first, his eyes scanning the cars before landing on Jason. He walked toward his friend with his arms open for a hug, a smile playing on his lips.

Then he stopped.

Jason was standing with perfect posture, his hands clasped behind his back and his chin lifted. He looked like a butler greeting guests at a manor, not a race car driver greeting his best friends. His smile was wide but frozen, like he had practiced it in the mirror.

Dominique’s eyes narrowed. "What’s wrong with you, bro?"

Jason’s smile did not waver. "Nothing. Why would something be wrong?"

"You’re being weird."

Jason tilted his head. "I’m being welcoming."

"You’re never welcoming."

Jason placed a hand over his heart. "I’m always welcoming. I am the most welcoming person I know."

Dominique crossed his arms. "Last time I saw you, you threw a shoe at my head."

Jason’s smile tightened. "It was a love tap."

"It was a shoe. A heavy shoe. A boot, actually."

"It was a love tap with a boot." Jason waved his hand dismissively. "Details."

Dominique squinted at him. Jason’s eyes kept drifting past him, toward the jet stairs, toward the people descending. His posture remained perfect, but his fingers twitched at his sides.

Bella stepped off first, her brown hair catching the light, her simple dress flowing around her legs. Her face lit up when she saw the cars, her brown eyes wide with wonder.

Jason’s eyes lit up too, bright and eager.

Then Winter appeared behind her.

Jason’s mouth fell open.

Winter was dressed in black, as always. Black jeans that fit her like a second skin. A black sweater that hung loose on her thin frame. Black boots that laced up to her ankles. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, not a single strand out of place, and her face was expressionless, her dark eyes scanning the cars with quiet interest.

But there was something in her gaze, a spark, a flicker of excitement that she could not quite hide.

Jason’s heart stopped.

Oh my god, he thought. So beautiful.