Isabel’s POVMy mind raced, frantically piecing together a response that would satisfy Emerson's sudden scrutiny without unraveling the fragile web of secrecy surrounding Robert’s visit. But Caleb, ever quick on his feet, spoke first.“Are you seriously implying that Isabel’s secretly dating someone?” he said, feigning offense. His voice carried a sharp edge, but his grin was disarmingly casual. “Come on, Emerson. Your most trusted cousin is right here by her side. Not that Isa needs a chaperone, but do you really think I’d let some random guy waltz in?” He added a playful wink, leaning back as though utterly confident in his rebuttal.Emerson’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His tone was clipped, but there was an undertone of defensiveness that made me tense.“Then what did you mean?” Caleb shot back, the teasing in his voice replaced by something colder.Emerson turned to me, his gaze piercing. “I’m concerned about you, Isa. You’ve been through so much,
Isabel’s POV“I’ll go to the banquet,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.“What?” Both men spoke in unison, their heads snapping up, eyes wide with disbelief.“If Alistair wants me there, I’ll go,” I repeated, my tone firmer this time. “But not because of his threats. I want to know what he’s planning, and I refuse to sit on the sidelines while he pulls the strings.”Emerson’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes narrowing as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Caleb, on the other hand, immediately stepped forward, his face clouded with frustration.“Are you out of your mind?” Caleb exclaimed, his voice rising. “This isn’t just about attending some fancy dinner. Alistair is dangerous, Isa! He’s already threatening Sebastian—do you really think he wouldn’t do the same to you?"“I know the risks,” I replied, meeting his fiery gaze with as much calm as I could muster. “But I won’t be a pawn in this game anymore. I need to understand what
Isabel’s POVI reached for the door handle, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of Emerson’s words. But it wouldn’t budge. The door was locked.I turned to him, my voice sharp with irritation. “Emerson, unlock the door. Now.”He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he kept his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his eyes fixed on the empty road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t give you away to anyone,” he said, each word heavy with a sadness I didn’t fully understand. “But things are getting harder to control. If something happens to me… if I don’t make it…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “You can consider him.”For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him. “What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.He turned to face me then, his dark eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “Caleb. He’s bold, cunning… but he’s kind. I trust him to take care of you if I’m not here anymore.”The words hi
Isabel’s POVI stormed into my bedroom, my thoughts a whirlwind of anger and confusion. Slamming the door shut, I twisted the lock with more force than necessary. As if it could somehow keep everything out—not just Emerson’s infuriating persistence, but the fear and uncertainty clawing at me.The muffled sound of footsteps followed, and then a knock.“Isa,” Emerson’s voice called from the other side. “What do you mean by what you said earlier? Are you willing to give me another chance?”I rolled my eyes, leaning against the door. The nerve of him to ask that after everything he’d just said. “Go away, Emerson,” I muttered, too low for him to hear.“I’m not leaving until you answer me,” he insisted, his tone firm but with a hint of desperation.I clenched my fists, my patience wearing thin. “Emerson, I’m serious. Leave me alone!”The knocking stopped, but his voice persisted. “Isa, I just want to talk. Please.”“I don’t care!” I yelled, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at the door. “G
Isabel’s POV“Liam is such a lovely boy, isn’t he?” Marianne said with a warm smile as we stepped into the kitchen. She raised his tiny hand and gave it a playful wave in my direction.Liam giggled, his chubby fingers grasping at the air, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “He certainly is. Quite the charmer already,” I said, leaning closer. “Hey, Liam. Are you practicing that wave for your fans?”His giggles grew louder, and Marianne chuckled. “He loves attention. Don’t you, sweetheart?”Liam reached out toward me, his eyes wide and sparkling with innocence. Unable to resist, I offered him my hand, which he eagerly grabbed, babbling incomprehensible syllables with all the seriousness of someone making a grand speech.“Quite the conversationalist too,” I teased, tickling his tiny palm with my finger. He responded with another round of infectious laughter, his joy so pure it seemed to light up the room.As I straightened, I turned to Marianne, my tone shifting. “Does Emerson… spend
Emerson’s POVIsabel’s reaction startled me. She wasn’t just upset—she was frantic, the kind of raw, unrestrained emotion I hadn’t seen from her in years. Her voice trembled with a mix of fury and desperation as she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?! Why did you keep this from me?”Before I could form a response, she bolted out of the kitchen. Her movements were erratic yet purposeful.“Isa, wait!” I called, following her. My heart was pounding, though I couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from fear of her reaction or the storm of emotions she was dredging up in me.She didn’t stop. Her footsteps echoed through the hall until she burst into her bedroom. She made a beeline for the corner of the room, pulling out an old, dusty suitcase that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The zipper resisted her forceful tugs, but she wrestled with it until it finally gave way.“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping cautiously inside, my unease growing.She didn’t answer. Her hands
Isabel’s POVWhen I opened my eyes, the room swayed in a haze of muted light. My body felt heavy, and the soft hum of voices floated around me. A prickling sensation on the back of my hand made me glance down—a needle was taped in place, connected to an IV. I yanked it out without a second thought, wincing as a sharp sting followed. A small bead of blood bloomed on my skin, smearing as I clumsily wiped it with trembling fingers.Before I could swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the door creaked open. Emerson walked in, flanked by Eric, the family doctor, who carried a quiet professionalism that only made my anger flare hotter.“Isabel, stop,” Emerson said, his voice calm but firm as he crossed the room in long strides. “You need to rest. You fainted earlier.”Rest? The word itself felt like an insult. My chest burned with rage and despair as the fragmented truth of our earlier conversation crashed back into my mind. The missing child. Lilith. Lies.“I don’t need rest,” I spat, my
Isabel’s POV“Do I still have a chance to find him?” My voice trembled. But I kept my gaze steady, daring Emerson to answer truthfully.“Yes.” His reply came without hesitation, firm and resolute. “We’ll find him, Isabel. I promise.”The room felt suffocating, the silence stretching between us too heavy to bear. Emerson gestured toward the IV stand and called out softly, “She needs another infusion.”The family doctor appeared in the doorway, his expression both professional and faintly sympathetic. I barely glanced at him as he approached with the necessary equipment.“Don’t pull it out again, okay?” Emerson’s tone was lighter, almost coaxing, as he crouched beside me, his hand resting on the edge of the bed. “Take care of yourself. You’ll need your strength if you want to get your revenge.”Revenge. The word sliced through the haze of my exhaustion, igniting the fire inside me once more.I shut my eyes, blocking out the sight of him. He didn’t deserve my attention, not now. Not after
Isabel’s POV“Do I still have a chance to find him?” My voice trembled. But I kept my gaze steady, daring Emerson to answer truthfully.“Yes.” His reply came without hesitation, firm and resolute. “We’ll find him, Isabel. I promise.”The room felt suffocating, the silence stretching between us too heavy to bear. Emerson gestured toward the IV stand and called out softly, “She needs another infusion.”The family doctor appeared in the doorway, his expression both professional and faintly sympathetic. I barely glanced at him as he approached with the necessary equipment.“Don’t pull it out again, okay?” Emerson’s tone was lighter, almost coaxing, as he crouched beside me, his hand resting on the edge of the bed. “Take care of yourself. You’ll need your strength if you want to get your revenge.”Revenge. The word sliced through the haze of my exhaustion, igniting the fire inside me once more.I shut my eyes, blocking out the sight of him. He didn’t deserve my attention, not now. Not after
Isabel’s POVWhen I opened my eyes, the room swayed in a haze of muted light. My body felt heavy, and the soft hum of voices floated around me. A prickling sensation on the back of my hand made me glance down—a needle was taped in place, connected to an IV. I yanked it out without a second thought, wincing as a sharp sting followed. A small bead of blood bloomed on my skin, smearing as I clumsily wiped it with trembling fingers.Before I could swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the door creaked open. Emerson walked in, flanked by Eric, the family doctor, who carried a quiet professionalism that only made my anger flare hotter.“Isabel, stop,” Emerson said, his voice calm but firm as he crossed the room in long strides. “You need to rest. You fainted earlier.”Rest? The word itself felt like an insult. My chest burned with rage and despair as the fragmented truth of our earlier conversation crashed back into my mind. The missing child. Lilith. Lies.“I don’t need rest,” I spat, my
Emerson’s POVIsabel’s reaction startled me. She wasn’t just upset—she was frantic, the kind of raw, unrestrained emotion I hadn’t seen from her in years. Her voice trembled with a mix of fury and desperation as she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?! Why did you keep this from me?”Before I could form a response, she bolted out of the kitchen. Her movements were erratic yet purposeful.“Isa, wait!” I called, following her. My heart was pounding, though I couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from fear of her reaction or the storm of emotions she was dredging up in me.She didn’t stop. Her footsteps echoed through the hall until she burst into her bedroom. She made a beeline for the corner of the room, pulling out an old, dusty suitcase that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The zipper resisted her forceful tugs, but she wrestled with it until it finally gave way.“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping cautiously inside, my unease growing.She didn’t answer. Her hands
Isabel’s POV“Liam is such a lovely boy, isn’t he?” Marianne said with a warm smile as we stepped into the kitchen. She raised his tiny hand and gave it a playful wave in my direction.Liam giggled, his chubby fingers grasping at the air, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “He certainly is. Quite the charmer already,” I said, leaning closer. “Hey, Liam. Are you practicing that wave for your fans?”His giggles grew louder, and Marianne chuckled. “He loves attention. Don’t you, sweetheart?”Liam reached out toward me, his eyes wide and sparkling with innocence. Unable to resist, I offered him my hand, which he eagerly grabbed, babbling incomprehensible syllables with all the seriousness of someone making a grand speech.“Quite the conversationalist too,” I teased, tickling his tiny palm with my finger. He responded with another round of infectious laughter, his joy so pure it seemed to light up the room.As I straightened, I turned to Marianne, my tone shifting. “Does Emerson… spend
Isabel’s POVI stormed into my bedroom, my thoughts a whirlwind of anger and confusion. Slamming the door shut, I twisted the lock with more force than necessary. As if it could somehow keep everything out—not just Emerson’s infuriating persistence, but the fear and uncertainty clawing at me.The muffled sound of footsteps followed, and then a knock.“Isa,” Emerson’s voice called from the other side. “What do you mean by what you said earlier? Are you willing to give me another chance?”I rolled my eyes, leaning against the door. The nerve of him to ask that after everything he’d just said. “Go away, Emerson,” I muttered, too low for him to hear.“I’m not leaving until you answer me,” he insisted, his tone firm but with a hint of desperation.I clenched my fists, my patience wearing thin. “Emerson, I’m serious. Leave me alone!”The knocking stopped, but his voice persisted. “Isa, I just want to talk. Please.”“I don’t care!” I yelled, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at the door. “G
Isabel’s POVI reached for the door handle, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of Emerson’s words. But it wouldn’t budge. The door was locked.I turned to him, my voice sharp with irritation. “Emerson, unlock the door. Now.”He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he kept his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his eyes fixed on the empty road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t give you away to anyone,” he said, each word heavy with a sadness I didn’t fully understand. “But things are getting harder to control. If something happens to me… if I don’t make it…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “You can consider him.”For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him. “What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.He turned to face me then, his dark eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “Caleb. He’s bold, cunning… but he’s kind. I trust him to take care of you if I’m not here anymore.”The words hi
Isabel’s POV“I’ll go to the banquet,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.“What?” Both men spoke in unison, their heads snapping up, eyes wide with disbelief.“If Alistair wants me there, I’ll go,” I repeated, my tone firmer this time. “But not because of his threats. I want to know what he’s planning, and I refuse to sit on the sidelines while he pulls the strings.”Emerson’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes narrowing as if he was weighing his next words carefully. Caleb, on the other hand, immediately stepped forward, his face clouded with frustration.“Are you out of your mind?” Caleb exclaimed, his voice rising. “This isn’t just about attending some fancy dinner. Alistair is dangerous, Isa! He’s already threatening Sebastian—do you really think he wouldn’t do the same to you?"“I know the risks,” I replied, meeting his fiery gaze with as much calm as I could muster. “But I won’t be a pawn in this game anymore. I need to understand what
Isabel’s POVMy mind raced, frantically piecing together a response that would satisfy Emerson's sudden scrutiny without unraveling the fragile web of secrecy surrounding Robert’s visit. But Caleb, ever quick on his feet, spoke first.“Are you seriously implying that Isabel’s secretly dating someone?” he said, feigning offense. His voice carried a sharp edge, but his grin was disarmingly casual. “Come on, Emerson. Your most trusted cousin is right here by her side. Not that Isa needs a chaperone, but do you really think I’d let some random guy waltz in?” He added a playful wink, leaning back as though utterly confident in his rebuttal.Emerson’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His tone was clipped, but there was an undertone of defensiveness that made me tense.“Then what did you mean?” Caleb shot back, the teasing in his voice replaced by something colder.Emerson turned to me, his gaze piercing. “I’m concerned about you, Isa. You’ve been through so much,
Isabel’s POVThe guilt weighed heavily on me, like a leaden burden I couldn’t shake. Sebastian was in grave danger, all because of me. Yet, even in the face of his own peril, he had found a way to help me. His unwavering loyalty and selflessness cut through me like a knife, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay, but the effort was useless. They slipped down my cheeks, hot and unrelenting. “He’s risking everything,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. “How could I ever repay him?”Robert stepped forward, his voice soft but firm. “Isa, you can’t afford to let guilt consume you. If you don’t fight for your own life, all of Sebastian’s efforts will be meaningless. You need to stay strong—for him, for yourself.”His words settled in the air between us, like a lifeline being thrown into turbulent waters. Caleb, standing slightly apart, added his own support. “If you’re worried about Emerson finding out about the operation, I’ll help you keep it