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“Your brothers have made my life a living hell.”
“My brothers are trying to help you!”
“Help me?” I laugh at the irony. “You don’t know what that word means.”
“Annalise, the same people who killed your sister…they’ll kill you too, and your girls. Being here is the safest thing for them right now.”
“They?” I repeat, confused. I thought that… “Damian didn’t kill Mikayla.”
“No, that’s what I keep trying to tell you.” Her face is turning so red that she looks like she’s going to pop with frustration. “Mikayla is the only woman Damian’s ever loved. That’s why he wants to protect you…he promised her.”
None of this makes any sense. “But her black eye…? The last time I saw Mikayla, she had a…”
“That wasn’t from my brother. It was from some bad men who wanted to hurt her to get to him.”
“Who?”
“The Popov family.”
“Are they another bratva?”
Isabella nods. “They are. They’re our enemies. Mikayla isn’t the only one they’ve taken. My mom…she…” Isabella stops talking, and I notice her eyes watering ever so slightly before she shakes her head and purses her lips. “You have to trust me, Annalise.”
As we stand there, our breathing slowly returning to normal, I can’t help but wonder if I’m making a mistake—one that could cost me everything. But for now, I have to put my trust in Isabella and hope that Damian’s truth is worth uncovering.
“Enough of this talk,” Isabella says, her voice firm yet gentle. “You need a break from all these thoughts and emotions.” She pauses, a soft smile curving her lips. “Why don’t you go see your children? I’m sure they’d love to see their mother.”
My heart leaps at the mention of my daughters, and it’s as if a weight has been lifted from my chest. The thought of seeing my precious girls fills me with warmth, driving away the doubts and fears that have plagued my mind.
“Thank you, Isabella,” I whisper, my eyes shining with gratitude. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“Maybe you should get changed first.”
I look down at myself, having completely forgotten that I’m still in a towel. Embarrassment clouds my features, and Isabella laughs, the atmosphere lightened significantly from how it was just a few moments ago.
“I’ll be right outside.”
The second that Isabella is on the other side of the door, I drop the towel and move to my wardrobe-like closet. It’s full of clothes—things I normally wouldn’t wear. Isabella probably picked most of them. I settle on a simple dress, quickly slipping on my panties and not bothering with a bra in my rush before pulling the dress over my head.
Once I’m done, I swing the door open, narrowly avoiding running into Isabella, whose eyes are wide as she looks at me with shock. “Clearly, someone’s excited.”
I smile, unable to contain my good mood. “You’ll understand when you have children of your own.”
She sticks her tongue out. “Let’s hope that’s a long time coming.”
“You don’t want…?”
She cuts me off. “Come on,” she urges, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go find them.”
I allow Isabella to lead me out of the room, our footsteps echoing softly through the dimly lit hallway. As we walk, I can’t help but notice the exquisite craftsmanship of the house—intricate wood carvings adorning the walls, plush carpets warming the floors beneath our feet, and delicate chandeliers casting shadows against the ceiling. This place may be my own personal prison, but there’s no denying its beauty.
“Your children are staying in a room near the library,” Isabella says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Damian insisted they have a space where they can play and explore.”
Damian insisted? That’s a surprise. They’re not his children.
I nod, my heart swelling with gratitude for this small act of kindness. It seems Damian is more complex than I initially believed, and despite my reservations about him, I can’t deny his consideration for my daughters’ well-being.
They haven’t been like me—trapped.
