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Isabella, rarely submissive, passionately embraced each other on the not-so-spacious hospital bed.

At this difficult-to-separate moment, there was a sudden knock on the ward's door, and a calm female voice came from outside.

"Andrew."

Andrew had heard this voice for over twenty years, incredibly familiar—it was his eldest sister, Layla.

Reluctantly leaving Isabella's lips, he said, "It's my sister. Do you want to meet her?"

At this point, Isabella's cheeks were flushed, breath uneven. She looked unpresentable and definitely not fit to meet anyone, let alone his family.

"I'll hide in the bathroom; you get rid of them quickly," she hurriedly got off the bed, trotted and slipped into the bathroom.

Sitting up straight, he gazed at the tightly closed bathroom door, faintly smiling.

Subconsciously, he extended his fingertips, gently brushing his lips, which seemed to retain her scent. His mood instantly improved, even his voice lacked its usual depth as he said, "Please come in."

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