---- Chapter 10 Isabella's POV Ina private clinic nestled at the foot of the Swiss Alps, I slowly opened my eyes. "Isabella?" A white-haired man sat by my bed, his eyes filled with tears. "Grandpa..." My voice was a faint whisper. "I'm alive. " He squeezed my hand. "My child, you're finally awake." I looked out at the snow-capped mountains. "Where's Vincent?" "In a prison in Chicago," my grandfather said, handing me a newspaper. The front page showed Vincent, gaunt and hollow- eyed, being escorted by federal agents. I felt nothing but a cold, distant emptiness. ---- "He deserves it," I said softly, letting the paper fall." Grandpa, I want to start over." "The surgery has a ninety-five percent chance of success," the doctor, Alexander Reed, told us. He was young, maybe in his early thirties, with kind, deep-blue eyes. "Isabella's nerve damage was never that severe. Her recovery was deliberately sabotaged. We can fix it." Lying on the operating table, I stared into the surgical lights. "Don't worry," Alexander said, his voice gentle. " You'll be creating again soon." "How do you know I create?" "Because true talent is hard to hide," he smiled. " Your work has a... soul." Just before the anesthesia took me, I heard him whisper, "It's an honor to finally meet the artist." ---- When I woke up, my hand was wrapped in thick bandages. Alexander was by my bed. "The surgery was a success," he said. "Full recovery in three months." I tried to wiggle my fingers and felt a faint, miraculous tingle. Later, my grandfather explained. "Child, Dr. Reed is the best neurosurgeon in Europe. He's also... the man you were betrothed to as a child." My heart stopped. Seeing the look on my face, Alexander quickly interjected, "Isabella, that was an arrangement between our grandfathers. It means nothing if you don't want it to. Right now, all that matters is you." On the third day, I developed a post-operative infection. "Tf we don't control it, it could compromise the nerve