The morning sunlight spilled through the windows of Dante’s mansion, bathing the grand living room in a soft glow. Isla sat curled up on the couch, sipping her tea while Amara played on the rug with her stuffed animals. The peaceful scene felt almost surreal given the tension that had hung over their lives lately.
Dante entered the room, his expression unreadable, but Isla noticed the stiffness in his shoulders. She placed her cup on the table and straightened.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice quiet but tinged with concern.
Dante hesitated before answering, his gaze flicking toward Amara. “My father called.”
Isla froze, her body tensing instinctively at the mention of Vincent. “What did he want this time?”
Dante sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He said he wants to take Amara on a picnic.”
The words hung in the air like a bombshell. Isla stared at him, her mind racing. “A picnic? With her?”
“That’s what he said,” Dante replied, his jaw tight.
Isla shot to her feet, her voice rising. “Absolutely not! There’s no way I’m letting him take our daughter anywhere. He’s manipulative, controlling, and dangerous!”
Dante stepped toward her, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “I know how you feel, Isla. I feel the same way. But we can’t provoke him. If we outright refuse, he’ll only push harder, and he’s not someone we can fight on a whim.”
“So what are you saying?” Isla demanded, crossing her arms.
Dante’s voice softened, but there was a note of steel beneath it. “I’m saying we need to handle this carefully. I’ll go with them. He’s not taking Amara anywhere alone.”
“Even that feels too much!” Isla exclaimed, her voice cracking with emotion. “Why does he even care about Amara? He’s never cared about anyone unless it benefited him.”
Dante’s expression darkened. “Because he’s using her as leverage-another way to control me. But I’ll be there every second. He won’t get the chance to hurt her.”
Isla’s breathing hitched, and she turned away, her arms wrapped around herself. “This feels wrong, Dante. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust you around him either.”
Her words stung, but Dante didn’t let it show. “You don’t have to trust me, Isla. Just trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Amara.”
—
The following day, Vincent arrived at the mansion promptly at noon. Isla stood in the doorway, holding Amara’s hand protectively. Her nerves were on edge, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral as Vincent approached.
“Ah, there’s my beautiful granddaughter,” Vincent said smoothly, his sharp eyes locking onto Amara.
Amara looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly. “Who are you?” she asked in her small, innocent voice.
Vincent chuckled, crouching down to her level. “I’m your grandfather, little one. Call me Grandpa Vincent.”
Isla’s grip on Amara’s hand tightened, her instincts screaming at her to pull her daughter back. But Dante stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Isla’s shoulder.
“Let’s not make this a long visit,” Isla said, her tone clipped.
Vincent straightened, his smile never wavering. “Relax, Isla. It’s just a harmless outing. Children need fresh air, don’t they?”
Amara turned to Dante. “Are you coming, Daddy?”
Dante crouched beside her, his expression softening. “Of course, princess. Daddy will always be with you.”
That seemed to reassure Amara, and she let go of Isla’s hand to reach for Dante’s. Isla felt a pang of helplessness as she watched them walk out the door with Vincent.
—
The picnic site was a picturesque meadow on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by lush trees and rolling hills. A blanket was spread out on the grass, and a basket filled with food and drinks sat in the center.
Amara squealed with delight as she ran through the open field, chasing butterflies. Dante kept a close eye on her while Vincent lounged on the blanket, his gaze calculating as he watched them.
“She’s a lively one,” Vincent commented. “Reminds me of you at her age.”
Dante didn’t respond, his focus entirely on Amara.
Vincent’s smile faded slightly. “You know, Dante, I only want what’s best for her. For all of you.”
Dante finally turned to him, his expression cold. “What’s best for her is keeping her far away from your games.”
Vincent sighed, leaning back on his hands. “I’m not your enemy, son. I’m your father. And Amara deserves to know her family.”
“She knows the family that matters,” Dante shot back.
Amara’s laughter floated through the air as she ran back toward them, her arms full of wildflowers. She plopped down on the blanket beside Vincent, holding out a flower.
“Here, Grandpa Vincent,” she said with a shy smile.
Vincent took the flower with surprising gentleness, his features softening. “Thank you, little one. You’re quite the generous young lady.”
Amara giggled and turned to Dante. “Daddy, look! I got more flowers!”
“They’re beautiful, princess,” Dante said, his voice warm.
—
The tension between Dante and Vincent lingered throughout the outing, but Amara’s innocent joy acted as a buffer, keeping things from boiling over. Isla’s face haunted Dante’s mind as he watched his daughter interact with his father. She wouldn’t forgive him easily for agreeing to this, and he didn’t blame her.
As the sun began to set, Dante stood and picked up Amara, who was starting to yawn.
“It’s time to go,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Vincent stood as well, brushing off his suit. “Of course. It’s been a delightful day.”
Dante didn’t reply, carrying Amara back to the car without looking back.
—
When they returned to the mansion, Isla was waiting in the foyer, her arms crossed and her eyes filled with worry.
Amara squirmed out of Dante’s arms and ran to her. “Mommy! I saw butterflies and picked flowers!”
“That sounds wonderful, sweetheart,” Isla said, hugging her tightly.
Dante watched the interaction, his chest tightening. He stepped forward, but Isla shot him a sharp look.
“We’ll talk later,” she said curtly, taking Amara upstairs.
—
Later that night, Dante found Isla in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. He leaned against the doorway, his gaze steady.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he said softly.
Isla didn’t look at him. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Dante sighed, stepping closer. “I kept my promise. She was safe the entire time.”
“That’s not the point, Dante,” Isla snapped, finally turning to face him. “You’re letting him into her life, into our lives. Don’t you see how dangerous that is?”
“I see it,” Dante said quietly. “But I also see a way to control the situation. If I push him away completely, he’ll only come back harder. This way, I can manage him.”
Isla shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “I hope you’re right. For Amara’s sake.”
Dante reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let him hurt her. Or you.”
For a moment, Isla let herself believe him. But the shadow of Vincent’s influence loomed large, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.