Quite late in the evening that same day, the butler opened the door and Isolde, wearing a hoodie, walked in with a tall golden haired man two steps behind.
The butler's hand on the door trembled when Godfrey glanced at him. Those eyes… it shook the core of the butler.
Christine, who sat on the sofa drinking a cup of coffee in anxiety while waiting for her daughter, looked at Isolde as she removed the hood, revealing her face.
Christine's eyes moistened. She held back her tears as Isolde fell into her arms. Her fingers trailed Isolde's crimson hair, trembling softly.
After caressing Isolde for a while, Christine looked up and saw Godfrey. Her eyes slowly widened as she gazed at the man who sat on the sofa adjacent to hers.
He crossed one leg above the other. There was a soft smile on his face but she could sense something had changed about him.
The same impression she got from that painting was what she felt from Godfrey right now.
