In the days that followed Dante’s initial visit, Isla noticed his enthusiasm was directed solely at their daughter. He would come by the nursery, cradle the baby in his arms, and spend hours watching her sleep or trying to coax a little smile. But when it came to Isla, his demeanor was distant, almost cold. His conversations were brief, his eyes rarely meeting hers. It was as though she had faded into the background.
The isolation weighed heavily on Isla. Each day she would see Dante marvel at their daughter, showering the child with affection that she herself had once longed for. Watching him so effortlessly fall into the role of a doting father stirred a painful mixture of resentment and heartbreak within her.
One quiet afternoon, as she sat alone by the window with her daughter, Isla’s mind began to wander to thoughts of escape. Her little girl deserved to be raised in a place where she felt truly cherished. Isla couldn’t stand the idea of her daughter growing up in an environment that might turn indifferent toward her one day, as it had toward Isla.
Over the next few days, her mind began to form a plan. She would gather enough supplies, save a small amount of money without raising suspicion, and disappear with her baby. She could go somewhere far away, start anew, and give her daughter the life she deserved.
While Dante continued his routine, Isla became increasingly cautious. She stored away bits of cash from her personal funds and discreetly searched for safe places where they could live. Her resolve grew stronger with each passing day, especially as she watched Dante focus more on work, barely acknowledging her presence beyond a few words.
One evening, as Dante was leaving the nursery, Isla took a deep breath and approached him. She needed to feel out whether her absence would even be noticed if she went through with her plan.
“Dante,” she said softly, standing in the hallway as he turned to face her. “Can we… talk? I feel like we’ve barely spoken these past few days.”
He gave a slight nod, though his expression remained impassive. “Of course, Isla. Is something on your mind?”
She hesitated, glancing down at her hands before summoning the courage to continue. “I just… I feel like we’re strangers, even after everything we’ve been through. It’s like I’m just… here, but not really part of your life.”
Dante’s gaze flickered, but he kept his voice steady. “Isla, my priority is our daughter now. I have to ensure she has everything she needs and that she’s safe. This is what I’m focused on.”
A pang shot through Isla’s chest at his words. “And what about us, Dante? I thought we were building something together.”
He glanced away, his tone becoming defensive. “My commitment is to her future. We both know our marriage was built on duty, not… anything else.”
Isla swallowed, her throat tight. “I see,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I understand where we stand.”
Dante, sensing the tension in her voice, sighed and looked back at her, a hint of regret in his eyes. But before he could say anything, she turned and walked away, holding back tears as she returned to the nursery where her daughter lay sleeping.
That moment was the final confirmation Isla needed. She would leave, take her daughter somewhere safe where they could both start fresh, far from Dante’s indifference.
—
Late that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Isla began her preparations. She packed a small bag with essentials for her daughter, tucked away her savings, and mentally mapped out her escape. She had found a safe house a few towns away where they could lay low until she figured out their next steps.
The only challenge was timing it perfectly. She needed Dante to be out, immersed in work or distracted enough that her departure wouldn’t raise immediate alarm. She knew his routines well enough to pinpoint the best time to slip away unnoticed.
The next morning, Dante left early for a business meeting, and Isla’s heart pounded with both excitement and fear. She dressed her daughter in a warm, comfortable outfit, tucking a small blanket around her. With one last look around the nursery, she held her daughter close, taking in the room she had imagined filling with joy and laughter. The memories they might have had here were now nothing more than fleeting dreams.
She stepped quietly down the hallway, her baby snug against her chest, and made her way to the back entrance. Her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the latch, her breaths quick and shallow. As soon as the door clicked open, she slipped outside, her heart racing as she hurried toward the street, where she had arranged for a taxi to pick her up.
The driver, a kind-looking elderly man, gave her a sympathetic smile as he helped her with her bags. “You off on an adventure, young lady?”
Isla forced a small smile. “Yes… something like that.”
As the car pulled away from the mansion, Isla glanced back one last time. The imposing walls of Dante’s world receded into the distance, and with every mile, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
The ride was quiet, and Isla’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions. She felt a twinge of guilt for leaving without a word, but she reminded herself that she was doing this for her daughter. Her little girl deserved a loving, stable environment, free from the shadows that seemed to linger around Dante’s life.
After a few hours, they reached the safe house-a modest, cozy little cottage nestled in a quiet neighborhood. Isla thanked the driver, who gave her an encouraging nod, and entered her temporary sanctuary.
Inside, the space was humble but comfortable. She set her daughter down in a makeshift crib and sighed in relief, finally able to breathe without fear of Dante’s looming presence. This was their fresh start, a chance to be a family on their own terms.
As days passed in the cottage, Isla fell into a rhythm. She took care of her daughter, who was growing more curious and animated each day, and spent quiet evenings watching her baby’s innocent expressions. The bond between them grew stronger, and with each passing moment, Isla felt more at peace with her decision.
—
Meanwhile, back at the mansion, Dante was absorbed in his work, but he couldn’t shake an odd feeling nagging at him. He hadn’t seen Isla around the house lately, and though he hadn’t given it much thought initially, the quietness started to bother him.
One evening, as he sat in his office, Marco entered, his face unusually tense. “Dante, have you seen Isla and the baby today?”
Dante looked up, surprised. “No, why?”
Marco hesitated, his brows furrowed. “I haven’t seen her either. None of the staff has. She might have left… taken the baby with her.”
Dante’s expression hardened. “That’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t just leave without saying anything.”
But even as he said it, an uneasy feeling gripped him. The last conversation they’d had echoed in his mind-the hurt in her voice, the disappointment in her eyes. A part of him knew he’d pushed her too far, but he had convinced himself she’d stay for their daughter’s sake.
Without wasting another moment, he called the security team, ordering them to check the house and surrounding area. Hours passed, and still, there was no sign of her.
As the reality sank in, Dante’s mind raced with a mixture of disbelief and regret. Isla had left, taking their daughter with her. She was gone-out of his reach-and there was no telling if he’d be able to find her again.