Chapter 9
Marcus stopped protecting Isabella after that.
Not because he grew a conscience.
Because she had talked too much.
“You ruined everything.”
She laughed.
“You set the fire.”
His face hardened.
“You left Vivian at the gate.”
“And you told me nobody was inside.”
“I believed you got her out.”
Isabella smiled.
“You didn't ask.”
Marcus looked at me.
For the first time, fear replaced arrogance.
“I didn't know Vivian was trapped.”
Luca laughed.
“You knew she went back.”
“For Charlotte.”
“Yes.”
“I thought Isabella got both.”
Isabella shrugged.
“One was enough.”
The room recoiled.
Even capos accustomed to terrible things.
A child saved.
A mother left.
Because one was useful.
I looked at Marcus.
“You started the fire to destroy maps.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
“Knowing my daughter was upstairs.”
“I thought she was downstairs.”
“You didn't check.”
“No.”
“Because?”
He stared.
Then said:
“The route mattered.”
There.
The truth.
Profit mattered more than checking whether a baby was in a burning house.
I looked at every capo.
“You hear him?”
Marcus snapped:
“Don't perform.”
I turned.
He continued.
“You closed the most valuable passage we had because Vivian was afraid.”
“She was right.”
“She was afraid of everything.”
“No.”
“She turned you soft.”
I stepped closer.
“Vivian walked into a burning house for our daughter.”
Marcus stopped.
I continued.
“You set it on fire from outside.”
Silence.
“Tell me again who was soft.”
His face darkened.
Good.
Isabella laughed bitterly.
“Vivian isn't coming back because you make speeches.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Then stop pretending this is about justice.”
“What is it about?”
“Guilt.”
She smiled.
“You weren't there.”
That hurt.
She knew it.
“You were at a donor dinner.”
Silence.
“She called.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Isabella's smile sharpened.
“She called you that afternoon.”
I remembered a missed call.
Vivian.
4:12 p.m.
I had texted:
In meeting. Tonight?
No answer.
Isabella saw my face.
“There.”
Cruel satisfaction.
“She needed you and you chose work.”
I stared.
She continued.
“Now you get to punish everyone else because you don't like what that says about you.”
Charlotte's little voice came from the stairs.
“Daddy?”
Every person turned.
She stood beside Emma.
She had heard something.
I crossed to her immediately.
Isabella laughed.
“Of course.”
I ignored her.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
Charlotte held Bunny.
“Mommy called?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I looked at Emma.
She shook her head slightly.
Too much.
Not now.
I picked Charlotte up.
“She loved you.”
Charlotte nodded.
Simple.
Then looked at Isabella.
“Isabella said Mommy left because Mommy didn't want me.”
The room went silent.
My hands tightened around my daughter.
“What?”
Charlotte's lip trembled.
“She said Mommy picked secrets.”
Isabella rolled her eyes.
“Oh, please.”
I stared.
“You told my daughter her mother abandoned her.”
“She kept asking.”
“So?”
“I needed her to stop.”
There.
Again.
A child's grief.
An inconvenience.
Isabella continued.
“She wouldn't sleep.”
Charlotte buried her face against me.
“She cried for Bunny.”
I felt sick.
“And?”
Isabella shrugged.
“I told her mothers who want their children don't disappear.”
Emma whispered:
“You monster.”
Isabella turned.
“Don't.”
Emma stared.
“No.”
That one word.
Small.
Strong.
Isabella's face hardened.
Emma continued.
“You told her food came after answers.”
Silence.
“You locked her in the dark.”
Nothing.
“You told her William wouldn't come.”
Charlotte tightened around my neck.
I looked at Isabella.
“You told her that?”
She smiled.
“I told her you were busy.”
Charlotte whispered:
“She said Daddy likes parties more.”
My heart broke quietly.
Same pattern.
Vivian called.
I didn't come.
Then Isabella used that guilt against Charlotte.
A story designed to make my daughter stop trusting me.
I looked at her.
“You wanted Charlotte to stop calling for me.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
“Why?”
Isabella stared.
“Because every time she called…”
Her mouth twisted.
“…you came.”
Silence.
And there it was.
The thing she hated most.
Not Vivian.
Not Charlotte.
May you like
Not letters.
The fact that love moved me in ways she couldn't control.
