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“Deal.” She bounds back over to me, and I rub her side before feeling the eyes burning into me.
Nikhil studies me for a moment, his piercing eyes seeming to penetrate straight through me. His gaze lingers on me for a heartbeat before he beckons Isabella out of the room, his voice clipped and urgent. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Of course, Nikhil,” Isabella replies, her eyes holding mine for a moment with a silent reassurance. She follows him into the hallway, leaving me alone with Franny and Gina.
My mind remains fixated on the closed door separating me from Isabella and Nikhil’s conversation.
What could they be discussing so urgently? And why did Nikhil react so strongly to my presence? My gut churns with unease.
“Mommy?” Gina’s voice pulls me back to the present, her blue eyes wide with concern.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I murmur, brushing her hair back gently. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?” she asks innocently.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I reassure her, forcing myself to focus on the safety and happiness of my daughters at this moment.
As we continue watching the movie, my ears strain to catch any snippets of conversation from behind the closed door. The muffled tones of Isabella and Nikhil’s voices drift through the air, fueling my curiosity and anticipation.
18
NIKHIL
“Isabella,” I begin, my voice dripping with disapproval. “I don’t want to keep reminding you that you are not allowed to do whatever you want, whenever you choose. Actions have consequences. I thought you’d learned that already, and if Damian were here?—”
“But he isn’t,” she says quickly. “You are.”
That makes me grit my teeth. I’m so sick of not having the same respect as my older brother when I work just as hard, if not harder than him. “Take her back to her room.”
Her eyes widen for a moment, but she quickly composes herself, defiance flashing across her face. “Why? She’s a good woman and a loving mother. She doesn’t deserve to be locked up like this.”
I sigh, running my hand through my hair as frustration bubbles within me. Why does she feel the need to defend Annalise so fervently? “You know very well that it’s not that simple,” I tell her, struggling to keep my voice calm. “Our world is dangerous, and we can’t risk any further complications.”
“Complications?” Isabella scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “She has two young daughters who need their mother. Don’t you have any compassion?”
It stings, her insinuation that I’m heartless. But I’ve learned that in our world, showing too much emotion can be deadly. I glare at her, my eyes narrowing. “This isn’t about compassion, Isabella. It’s about keeping everyone safe.”
“Safe?” she repeats, her voice rising in anger. “By isolating a mother from her children? What kind of safety is that? Don’t you see her in there? She loves those kids…would do anything for them.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides, fighting the urge to lash out. I don’t want to argue with her, but her stubbornness leaves me no choice. “Enough, Isabella!” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “I understand that you care for Annalise, but you must accept that this is the reality we live in. I won’t allow her to jeopardize everything we’ve built.”
“Jeopardize?” She shakes her head, eyes narrowing. “You’re just afraid.”
“Afraid?” I repeat, scoffing.
“Yes. You’re scared that she’ll leave, because even though you don’t want to admit it, deep down inside of you, there’s a part of you that cares about?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I cut her off coldly.
Isabella sighs. She moves closer to me, her voice softening. “Nikhil, please. You’re a fair man. I know you have a heart beneath that icy exterior. Annalise needs to be with her daughters. It’s not right to keep them apart.”
I can’t deny that her words carry weight, and I feel a pang of guilt for keeping Annalise away from her children. “Damian made the rule, and she’s not worth the trouble of going against him.”
“Isn’t she?” Isabella counters, her gaze unwavering. “Or is it just easier to dismiss her as insignificant rather than confront the possibility that she might matter more than you’d like to admit?”
“This conversation is over.”
“Right,” she says sarcastically, her voice low, “because your word is the be-all and end-all.”
