The morning air in the estate was crisp and quiet. The sun filtered through the expansive windows, casting soft rays across the dining table. Isla moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for herself and Amara, while the little girl hummed a cheerful tune at the table. For once, the house felt peaceful, but Isla knew better than to let her guard down.
Dante hadn’t said much since their conversation on the balcony the previous night, but his presence had been steady. She found herself appreciating his effort, even if she still had her doubts about his ability to shield them from his father.
—
Later in the day, Dante walked into the room, dressed in a tailored navy suit, looking as sharp as ever. Amara spotted him first, her eyes lighting up as she clapped her hands.
“Daddy! Daddy!” she exclaimed, running to him.
Dante crouched down, catching her in his arms and spinning her around. “Good morning, princess. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes! Mommy and I played hide and seek yesterday!” Amara beamed.
Dante shot a glance at Isla, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Sounds like fun. Maybe I can join you next time.”
Isla, standing by the counter, simply nodded, trying to focus on cleaning the dishes. Dante straightened, carrying Amara back to the table.
“I have a meeting in town,” he said, his voice directed at Isla. “But I should be back by the afternoon.”
“Alright,” she replied curtly, not turning to face him.
Dante sighed internally. Though things between them had softened slightly, there was still a wall of mistrust he had yet to break down.
—
The hours passed quietly after Dante left, and Isla found herself enjoying the calm. Amara was busy coloring on the living room floor, her little hands moving excitedly across the paper.
“What are you drawing, sweetheart?” Isla asked, kneeling beside her.
“It’s us!” Amara said proudly, holding up her work. The crude drawing showed three stick figures: one labeled “Mommy,” one “Daddy,” and the smallest “Me!”
Isla’s heart clenched at the sight. Amara’s world was so simple and pure, and Isla hated that the complications of their reality threatened to ruin that innocence.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, pressing a kiss to Amara’s curly head.
—
Meanwhile, Dante sat at a sleek table in his downtown office, his fingers tapping impatiently against the polished surface. Opposite him sat Luca, his loyal confidant, who had just delivered another frustrating update.
“He’s been quiet,” Luca said, referring to Vincent. “But that doesn’t mean he’s stopped scheming.”
“I need more than that, Luca,” Dante growled. “I want to know every move he’s making. He’s not getting anywhere near Isla or Amara.”
Luca nodded. “I’ll increase surveillance. But Dante, you need to be careful. Vincent isn’t someone you can predict.”
Dante’s jaw tightened. “I know exactly what he’s capable of. That’s why I need to stay ahead of him.”
Luca hesitated before speaking again. “What about Isla? Does she know the full extent of the threat?”
“She knows enough,” Dante said, his tone clipped. “I don’t want to scare her more than she already is.”
—
By the time Dante returned to the estate, the sun was beginning to set. The golden light bathed the grounds, giving the place an almost serene appearance. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the sound of Amara’s laughter.
Following the sound, he found Isla and Amara in the garden, playing with a small ball. The sight made him pause. Isla’s smile was radiant, and for a moment, Dante felt like an outsider looking in on a life he desperately wanted to be a part of.
“Can I join?” he called out, stepping onto the lawn.
Amara turned and squealed with excitement. “Daddy!”
Isla, however, froze. The lighthearted moment between her and her daughter now felt heavy with Dante’s presence. But before she could object, Amara was already dragging him into their game.
“Alright, princess,” Dante said, crouching to her level. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Amara giggled and threw the ball, her tiny arms sending it flying in the wrong direction. Dante laughed, retrieving it and tossing it gently back to her.
As they played, Isla couldn’t help but notice how natural Dante was with Amara. For all his flaws, there was no denying that he adored their daughter.
—
Later that evening, after Amara had been tucked into bed, Dante found Isla in the kitchen. She was wiping down the counters, her movements deliberate and methodical.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Isla glanced at him but didn’t stop what she was doing. “What is it?”
Dante stepped closer, his expression serious. “I just wanted to say thank you. For letting me spend time with Amara today.”
“She’s your daughter,” Isla replied, her tone guarded. “You don’t need my permission to spend time with her.”
“I know,” Dante said. “But it means a lot to me. And I know it means a lot to her, too.”
Isla set down the cloth she was holding and turned to face him fully. “Dante, what do you want from me? From us?”
Dante took a deep breath, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “I want us to be a family. A real family.”
Isla crossed her arms over her chest, her guard going up. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know it’s not,” Dante admitted. “But I’m willing to fight for it. For you. For Amara.”
Isla shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You say that now, but what happens when things get hard? When your father comes back into the picture?”
“I won’t let him ruin this,” Dante said firmly. “I promise you, Isla, I will do whatever it takes to keep you and Amara safe.”
Isla searched his face, looking for any sign of deception. But all she saw was determination.
“I don’t know if I can trust you, Dante,” she said quietly.
“Then let me prove it to you,” he said, stepping closer. “Give me a chance to show you that I’m not the man I used to be.”
Isla hesitated, her heart warring with her head. Part of her wanted to believe him, to let herself fall into the hope he was offering. But the other part of her was terrified of being hurt again.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally said.
Dante nodded, accepting her answer for now. “That’s all I’m asking.”
As he turned to leave, Isla called out to him. “Dante?”
He looked back at her, his expression hopeful.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For being there for Amara today.”
A small smile tugged at Dante’s lips. “Always.”
—
That night, as Isla lay in bed, she found herself replaying their conversation. For the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make this work.