Isla was busy humming a lullaby, rocking Amara gently in her arms as the baby dozed off. The warmth of the cozy living room wrapped them both like a shield from the cold world outside. Isla tried not to think of Dante. She focused on her baby girl, the only light in her life.
But something felt off that evening. The air seemed heavier, the silence deeper. Isla brushed the unease away, blaming it on exhaustion. She locked the door, double-checking it before heading to bed with Amara.
The night carried on peacefully, until a loud bang echoed through the house. Isla bolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest. She rushed to check on Amara, who stirred but didn’t wake.
“Who’s there?” Isla called, her voice trembling.
No answer.
Suddenly, the front door burst open. She gasped, clutching Amara close as Dante stormed in, his face a mask of fury and desperation. Marco and another of his men stood behind him, their towering forms blocking the doorway.
“Dante!” Isla whispered, her voice a mix of fear and shock. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his dark eyes locking onto Amara. “Enough games, Isla. I’ve had enough of your running.”
“I wasn’t running,” she snapped, stepping back protectively. “I was protecting her from you.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t lose his composure. “She’s my daughter, Isla. And I won’t let you keep her from me anymore.”
—
The Struggle
Isla held Amara tighter as Dante stepped closer. “You don’t get to walk in here and make demands, Dante! Where were you when we needed you? When I was alone, scared, and pregnant?”
His voice softened slightly, though his eyes remained determined. “I’ve made mistakes, Isla. But I won’t make another by letting you keep my daughter from me.”
Her voice rose, fueled by anger and fear. “You don’t get to claim her now! She doesn’t even know you!”
Before she could react, Dante reached out, his hands firm but not rough as he took Amara from her arms. The baby woke, crying at the sudden movement.
“Give her back!” Isla screamed, lunging for her daughter, but Marco intercepted her, holding her arms tightly.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Isla,” Dante said, his voice tinged with regret.
Isla struggled against Marco’s grip, tears streaming down her face. “You’re a monster, Dante! You can’t do this!”
“I’m her father,” he said firmly, cradling Amara against his chest. “And I’m taking her home.”
—
Locked Away
Isla screamed and fought, but it was no use. Dante nodded to Marco, who dragged her into one of the smaller rooms. She thrashed, her desperation giving her strength, but Marco was too strong.
He shoved her into the room, locking the door behind her. She banged on it, her fists pounding against the wood.
“Dante, please!” she cried. “Don’t take her from me!”
There was no answer. She sank to the floor, sobbing, her heart breaking with every passing second.
—
Dante’s Guilt
Outside the room, Dante leaned against the wall, his own emotions warring within him. Amara had stopped crying, her tiny hand clutching his shirt as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “I’ll protect you. Always.”
Marco approached cautiously. “She’s going to hate you for this, boss.”
Dante’s expression hardened. “She already does. But I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Amara with me.”
Marco hesitated before speaking. “What if Isla tries to escape again?”
Dante looked at the closed door. “She won’t. Not this time.”
—
Isla’s Determination
Hours passed, and Isla sat in the corner of the room, her mind racing. She couldn’t let Dante win. She had to find a way out, to get Amara back.
Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that could help her. The window was too small to climb through, and the door was locked tight. But Isla wasn’t ready to give up.
She whispered to herself, her voice trembling but determined. “I’ll get you back, baby. I promise.”
—
Tension Builds
The next morning, Dante stood in the kitchen, feeding Amara a bottle. The baby seemed content in his arms, gurgling happily. But his peace was short-lived as Isla’s muffled shouts reached his ears.
“Dante! Let me out!”
He sighed, his heart heavy with guilt. Marco entered the kitchen, raising an eyebrow.
“She’s not going to stop, you know,” Marco said.
Dante nodded. “I know. But I need time to figure this out.”
Marco leaned against the counter. “And what if she never forgives you?”
Dante didn’t answer, his focus on Amara. “My priority is her safety. Everything else comes second.”
—
The Breaking Point
Isla’s shouts grew louder, her voice hoarse from screaming. Finally, the door opened, and Dante stood there, holding Amara.
Isla shot to her feet, glaring at him. “Give her back to me!”
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Isla, listen-”
“No!” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to take her from me!”
Dante’s expression softened, but his resolve remained firm. “I know you hate me right now. I don’t blame you. But I had to do this. For her.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re delusional if you think this is for her. She needs her mother, Dante. Not someone who only shows up when it’s convenient.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m trying to fix things, Isla. I’m trying to be better. But you won’t even give me a chance.”
She laughed bitterly. “A chance? You don’t deserve one! You abandoned us, Dante. And now you think you can just swoop in and take control?”
He placed Amara in her crib, turning to face Isla fully. “I’m not abandoning her again. No matter what it takes.”
She shook her head, her voice filled with despair. “You’ve already destroyed everything, Dante. Don’t make it worse.”
—
A Silent Standoff
As Dante left the room, locking the door behind him once more, Isla sank to the floor, her body wracked with sobs. She felt trapped, powerless, but her determination burned brighter than ever.
She would find a way to escape. She would protect her daughter, no matter the cost.
And Dante would learn that she was not a woman to be underestimated.