Isla stayed in her room the entire night, pacing back and forth as Amara slept soundly in her crib. Every time she looked at her daughter, the resolve in her heart grew stronger. She couldn’t live in a world where Dante’s indifference and chaos continued to control her life.
“This is it,” Isla whispered to herself, sitting on the edge of her bed. “I need to leave. For me, for Amara.”
But the thought of escaping Dante’s grasp sent shivers down her spine. He was powerful, ruthless, and had a network of people who could track her down within hours. She needed a plan-a foolproof one.
—
Morning Tension
The next morning, Dante was waiting outside Isla’s room. He hadn’t slept a wink and had spent hours debating how to approach her. When Isla finally opened the door, holding Amara in her arms, Dante stood up straight, his face showing a mix of regret and determination.
“Isla,” he began, his voice soft. “Please. Let’s talk.”
Isla didn’t meet his gaze. “There’s nothing left to say, Dante.”
“I know last night was a disaster,” he said, stepping closer. “But Seraphina doesn’t mean anything to me. I swear. You and Amara are all that matter.”
Isla laughed bitterly. “It’s too late for words, Dante. You’ve shown me where I stand in your life over and over again.”
Dante sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m trying, Isla. I’m trying to be better.”
“Trying isn’t enough,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “You’ve hurt me too much, and I won’t let Amara grow up in this mess.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “She’s my daughter, Isla. You can’t take her from me.”
Isla’s heart raced at the veiled threat, but she masked her fear. “We’ll see about that,” she said before brushing past him and heading downstairs.
—
Secret Preparations
Over the next few days, Isla began preparing to leave. She was careful, knowing that any sign of her plan would alert Dante or his men.
She reached out to Matteo, the one person she trusted, in secret. He had been a silent support system ever since Amara was born, and she knew he’d help her without question.
Late one evening, she called him.
“Matteo,” she whispered, keeping an eye on the door. “I need your help.”
“Anything, Isla,” Matteo replied immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to leave,” she said, her voice trembling. “Dante… he’ll never let me go willingly, but I can’t stay here anymore. Not for me, not for Amara.”
Matteo hesitated. “Isla, you know how dangerous this could be. If Dante finds out-”
“I know the risks,” she interrupted. “But I have no choice. Please, Matteo. You’re the only one I can trust.”
There was a long pause before Matteo sighed. “Alright. I’ll help you. But we have to be smart about this.”
They devised a plan. Matteo would arrange a safe house far from Dante’s influence and secure transportation for Isla and Amara. Isla’s role was to act normal and avoid arousing suspicion until everything was ready.
—
Dante’s Growing Frustration
Meanwhile, Dante grew increasingly frustrated by Isla’s cold demeanor. She barely spoke to him, and when she did, her words were laced with bitterness. He noticed her withdrawing even further, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
One evening, as Dante sat in his study, Marco entered with a hesitant look on his face.
“Boss,” Marco said, “I’ve noticed Isla’s been… different lately.”
Dante looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been quiet. Distant. I think she might be planning something,” Marco said carefully.
Dante’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
“I’m not sure,” Marco admitted. “But I’ve doubled security around the estate, just in case.”
Dante leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. “She wouldn’t leave,” he said, almost to himself. “She knows I’d find her.”
But doubt lingered in his mind, and he resolved to keep a closer eye on Isla.
—
A Moment of Hope
One afternoon, as Isla sat in the garden with Amara, she watched her daughter giggle and reach for the flowers. For a brief moment, Isla felt a glimmer of hope.
“We’ll be free soon, Amara,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face. “I promise.”
Matteo approached quietly, pretending to inspect the plants.
“Everything’s ready,” he said under his breath. “Tomorrow night.”
Isla’s heart raced, a mix of fear and excitement flooding her. “Thank you, Matteo,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
—
The Final Day
The day before her planned escape was nerve-wracking. Isla forced herself to go about her routine as usual, even as anxiety gnawed at her. She packed only the essentials for herself and Amara, hiding the bag in the back of her closet.
That evening, Dante approached her in the living room.
“Isla,” he said, his tone hesitant. “Can we talk?”
She looked up from where she was playing with Amara, her expression guarded. “What is it, Dante?”
He sat down across from her, running a hand over his face. “I know things haven’t been easy between us,” he admitted. “But I want to make it right.”
Isla’s heart ached at his words, but she didn’t let it show. “You’ve had plenty of chances to make it right, Dante,” she said quietly. “It’s too late now.”
Dante reached out, his hand brushing hers. “Please, Isla. Don’t give up on us.”
She pulled her hand away, her resolve firm. “I already have,” she said, standing up and taking Amara with her.
—
A Narrow Escape
That night, Isla barely slept. When the clock struck midnight, she slipped out of bed and grabbed the bag she had packed. Amara stirred slightly but didn’t wake as Isla lifted her into her arms.
She crept through the mansion, her heart pounding with every step. Matteo was waiting by the back gate, his car parked nearby.
“Let’s go,” he whispered, opening the car door for her.
Isla slid inside, clutching Amara tightly. As the car sped away into the night, she felt a mix of relief and fear. She had done it-she was free.
But as the mansion faded into the distance, Isla couldn’t shake the feeling that Dante wouldn’t let her go so easily.