My Soul card is a Reaper

"Why would I ask you to break up?"

Isabella almost thought she had misheard.

Philip Steele took a slow sip of Early grey, his movements steady and unhurried, as if he had just said something completely ordinary.

"How you two interact is your own business. I don't interfere in that. As for other matters, I've already agreed to your conditions."

Her mind stalled for a moment.

This… was not the script she had prepared for.

He didn't come to force her to leave Victor?

Then why call her here at all?

She steadied herself and spoke calmly.

"My mother is sick. Apart from that, I don't need much money. And if I truly needed it, I could ask Victor directly. What makes you think I would definitely make a deal with you?"

Philip Steele did not look surprised at all.

Instead, the corners of his lips curved slightly.

In his eyes, she saw something faintly mocking, faintly indulgent. It was the look of someone who had lived through too much, looking at youth and thinking, naive.

"There are many things in this world that require money, my dear child..." he said evenly. "If you can say that, it means you are not greedy for money."

He paused.

"But people who are not greedy for money are often greedy in other places."

His gaze sharpened slightly.

"I've lived longer than you, Miss Cruz. I understand people. I can promise you one condition. No deadline. No restriction. As long as I can do it, I will fulfill it."

He set down the teacup.

"I only need you to do one thing for me when the time comes."

Isabella's brows knitted together. "Mr. Steele, I don't think I—"

"Don't refuse so quickly."

His voice cut her off, calm but firm.

"I only came today to meet you and give you my contact information. Believe me, one day you will use it."

He looked at her meaningfully.

"When you find yourself greedy for something else… and unable to let go… remember this. In Averton City, the only person who can help you and your mother leave safely is me."

After saying that, he did not wait for her response.

He waved for his assistant, handed her a business card, and stood up to leave.

Isabella held the card in her hand, her fingers tightening slightly.

His words carried layers upon layers of meaning.

Greedy for something else.

What did he mean?

"Mr. Steele," she called out instinctively. "If that day comes… what exactly would I have to do?"

Philip Steele paused but did not turn around.

"Don't worry," he said coldly. "It's something only you can do. You'll know when the time comes."

He left.

The cafe suddenly felt much larger and colder.

—

When she stepped out, the night air brushed against her face, but her thoughts were still tangled.

Father and son… why did they both enjoy keeping her in suspense?

She walked back toward the hospital in a daze and accidentally bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly without looking up, then continued forward.

She did not notice that the person she bumped into stood still, watching her retreating figure thoughtfully.

That person had already been in the cafe earlier.

Had watched the entire meeting from a distance.

—

After helping her mother wipe down and adjusting her position carefully, Isabella finally sat down and saw the message from Victor.

Just two words.

Victor: What time?

Her fingers paused over the screen.

She had just met his father a few hours ago.

How was she supposed to face him now?

After hesitating for a long moment, she finally typed back.

Isabella: I'll go back after my mother falls asleep.

The message was sent.

There was no reply for a while.

She stared at their chat history and suddenly realized something.

Her tone…

It sounded exactly like a wife reporting to her husband when she would be home.

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

What was she thinking?

Her mother's steady breathing filled the ward. Isabella quietly stood up and tiptoed out, closing the door gently behind her.

As soon as she stepped into the corridor, a young nurse who was walking past grinned mischievously.

"So quiet… are you going to meet your lover?"

Isabella's face turned even redder. "What nonsense! I'm just going home to sleep."

The moment the words left her mouth, she froze.

Home?

Since when had that place become her home?

The nurse giggled.

"Oh, I see. But the Mr. Steele I saw last time was really handsome. You're so lucky. Hurry home, don't make him wait too long."

With that, she ran off.

Isabella stood there holding her bag, her face burning.

Suddenly, Philip Steele's words echoed in her mind.

People who are not greedy for money are often greedy in other places.

Other places…

Her heart skipped violently, and the warmth that had just risen inside her cooled in an instant.

She shook her head hard.

No.

She could not be greedy in other places.

She knew too well what that meant.

That path… was the most dangerous of all.

She took a deep breath before finally walking out of the hospital slowly.

—

Victor had left work early that day.

He had pushed aside social engagements and business dinners and returned to the apartment ahead of schedule.

Recently, he had been overwhelmingly busy. For several nights, he had not slept well.

He had grown used to holding that soft, warm body in his arms. Once that warmth disappeared, even the vast king-sized bed felt empty.

After showering and changing into his pajamas, he sat on the sofa in the living room, waiting.

Half the night passed.

She still had not returned.

His patience was thinning when his phone suddenly rang.

His eyes lit up reflexively.

But the moment he saw the caller ID, the light disappeared.

He answered coldly.

"Speak."

Steven Han's cautious voice came through.

"Sir… I wouldn't dare disturb you at this hour if it wasn't urgent. You once said… if Miss Vale contacts you on her own initiative, I must inform you immediately. Miss Sienna Vale just sent you an email. Do you want to…"

Victor's face turned completely cold.

The warmth from earlier vanished without a trace.

His brows tightened, his thin lips pressed into a straight line.

After a long silence, he finally said in a low voice,

"Forget it. I'll look at it tomorrow."

On the other end, Steven Han audibly exhaled in relief. "That's good, that's good… then I wish you… a pleasant spring night…"

Before he could finish, the line went dead.

Victor tossed the phone onto the coffee table and leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes.

In his mind, an image lingered.

A slender back.

A familiar silhouette.

*

When Isabella pushed open the apartment door, the entire living room was quiet.

For a second, she thought he hadn't come back.

Until she saw the pair of black calf-leather shoes placed neatly by the entrance.

So he was here.

On the way back, she had been a little annoyed and a little hungry. She had taken a small detour to buy supper. Now she carried the plastic bag straight into the kitchen, placing it on the counter as she unpacked it.

Before she could even breathe properly, a low voice drifted from behind her.

"Why are you so late?"

She stiffened.

The voice was not loud, but it carried a faint chill.

She didn't know how to answer. Just then, Victor's gaze fell on the plastic bag in her hand.

"What are you holding?"

As if presenting a treasure, she quickly poured the contents into a bowl.

"Chicken corn soup," she said proudly. "The best in Averton City."

Victor glanced at it once and frowned.

"It's packaged like that? Hot soup in a plastic bag will release harmful substances. Are you sure you want to eat it?"

The praise froze on her lips.

She had even bought an extra portion out of habit.

Instantly displeased, she picked up the bowl. "Fine. I'll eat it myself."

She carried it into the living room and sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the LCD television. The screen was filled with international financial news. Numbers and charts moved rapidly, and she couldn't understand a single word.

She reached for the remote, ready to switch channels.

"I'm watching," Victor's cold voice came from behind her. "Why change it?"

She paused, suppressed the irritation rising in her chest, and put the remote down.

Fine.

She focused on her soup instead.

After a few bites, he suddenly asked, voice low, "Do you want to watch something else?"

She glanced sideways at him.

"I think there are cartoons at this time… Conan, maybe?"

His face darkened instantly.

"Childish."

Her fingers tightened around the spoon.

She really wanted to throw the bowl at his perfectly composed face.

But she had been running around all afternoon. Her stomach was growling, and this bowl of wontons smelled too good to sacrifice.

So she ignored him completely and continued eating.

Soon, the aroma of hot broth filled the apartment.