ISLA
I sat by the window, staring out at the sprawling mansion grounds, but my mind was elsewhere. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant, forgotten memories. I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there, nor did I care. All I could think of was him—the man who had been both my prison and my tormentor.
Oliver.
I heard the door open, and I didn’t need to look to know it was him. His presence was a constant weight, a shadow that loomed over everything, and tonight it felt heavier than ever. His footsteps were slow, deliberate. He knew I was here, knew I was aware of his every move, yet he didn’t say a word.
I could feel his eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. The words I wanted to say, the anger that boiled inside me, all o
