Morning sunlight streamed into the room, but Isla barely noticed. Her mind was racing, formulating plans she hadn’t yet dared to voice. Amara’s soft coos broke the silence, and Isla moved to the crib, her expression softening as she picked up her daughter.
“Good morning, my love,” she whispered, brushing her lips against Amara’s forehead. “Mommy’s here.”
As she cradled her daughter, Isla’s resolve hardened further. She couldn’t live like this-trapped, watched, and powerless. Dante might have thought locking her in this gilded prison would break her, but he didn’t realize just how determined she was to reclaim her life.
—
Dante’s Shadow
The sound of footsteps outside the door made Isla’s heart race. She turned, clutching Amara tightly as the door opened, revealing Marco.
He hesitated in the doorway, his usual stoic expression softened by concern. “I brought breakfast,” he said, nodding toward the tray in his hands.
“You mean my rations,” Isla replied bitterly. “What’s next, Marco? A leash?”
Marco sighed, stepping inside and placing the tray on the table. “I don’t agree with how he’s handling things, Isla. But you have to understand, Dante’s not thinking clearly.”
“Oh, he’s thinking clearly, all right,” she shot back. “He’s thinking about himself. Not me. Not Amara.”
Marco’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s trying to protect you both.”
Isla’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Protect us? By keeping me locked up and away from my own child?”
—
A Quiet Threat
Before Marco could respond, Dante appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. Isla’s body tensed as their eyes met.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice calm but laced with authority.
Isla shifted Amara in her arms, her gaze never leaving his. “Did you come to check if your prisoner was still breathing?”
Dante’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he walked to the crib and reached for Amara.
“Give her to me,” he said.
Isla instinctively stepped back, her arms tightening around the baby. “No.”
Dante’s eyes darkened. “Isla, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Harder?” she snapped. “You’ve already made it unbearable. Do you even realize what you’ve done to me? To us?”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m doing what I have to. For her.”
“No,” Isla said, her voice trembling but firm. “You’re doing it for you. For control.”
For a moment, Dante looked as though her words had struck a nerve. But then he straightened, his expression hardening once more.
“You’ll see in time,” he said. “This is for the best.”
—
Small Acts of Defiance
After Dante left, Isla paced the room, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She had to find a way to leave. Waiting for Marco’s pity or Dante’s change of heart wasn’t an option.
She began observing every detail of her confinement. The windows were bolted shut, but the latch on the door seemed old and worn. She tested it each time Marco brought her meals, careful not to raise suspicion.
Meanwhile, Amara was her anchor. Every smile, every coo, every tiny movement reminded Isla of why she couldn’t give up. She sang to her daughter, told her stories, and whispered promises of freedom.
“One day, my love,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Amara’s face. “We’ll be free.”
—
Dante’s Growing Frustration
In his study, Dante paced back and forth, his thoughts consumed by Isla. Marco stood by the window, watching his boss with a wary expression.
“You’re losing her,” Marco said finally.
Dante stopped, turning to face him. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Physically, maybe. But emotionally? She’s already gone.”
Dante’s expression darkened. “She just needs time to adjust.”
Marco scoffed. “Adjust? To being locked away from the world? From her own daughter?”
“Enough,” Dante snapped. “I don’t need a lecture.”
Marco hesitated, then said quietly, “She’s not the enemy, Dante. You’re treating her like one, and it’s going to cost you.”
Dante didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his inner turmoil.
—
An Unexpected Ally
That evening, Marco returned to Isla’s room, finding her sitting on the floor with Amara.
“You need to eat,” he said, setting down the tray.
Isla didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”
Marco sighed, crouching down to her level. “Isla, you’re not helping yourself by starving.”
“Why do you care?” she asked, her voice cold.
He hesitated, then said, “Because I believe you deserve better than this.”
She finally looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “Then help me.”
Marco shook his head. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?” Isla challenged.
He didn’t answer, but the guilt in his eyes was enough.
—
A Plan Takes Shape
The next morning, Isla noticed something unusual. One of the maids who delivered fresh linens left the door ajar for a moment too long. Isla’s mind raced.
She waited until the house was silent that night, then tested the door. It creaked open slightly, and her heart pounded. She didn’t have a solid plan, but the opportunity was too good to ignore.
She gathered a few essentials, wrapped Amara in a blanket, and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.
“Stay quiet, my love,” she whispered. “We’re going on an adventure.”
—
A Mother’s Gamble
Isla’s heart raced as she crept through the corridors. Every shadow felt like a threat, every sound like an alarm. But she kept moving, driven by the thought of freedom.
She made it to the main hallway before a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Going somewhere?”
Her blood ran cold. She turned to see Marco standing at the end of the hall, his arms crossed.
“Marco, please,” she begged. “I can’t stay here. I can’t let him control us anymore.”
He hesitated, his expression conflicted. “You know what he’ll do if he finds out.”
“Let him,” Isla said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I have to protect my daughter.”
For a moment, Marco didn’t move. Then, to her shock, he stepped aside.
“Go,” he said quietly. “Before I change my mind.”
Isla’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered, clutching Amara tightly as she slipped past him.
—
The Price of Freedom
As Isla stepped out into the cool night air, she felt a surge of relief. She had no idea where she was going, but for the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of hope.
Behind her, Marco watched from the shadows, his expression unreadable.
Inside the house, Dante sat in his study, oblivious to the storm brewing around him. But it wouldn’t be long before he realized the extent of Isla’s defiance-and the lengths she was willing to go to protect her child.
And when that moment came, nothing would ever be the same.