ISLA
The mansion felt like a prison. Every tap of my shoes on the floor, every echo of silence felt suffocating, but nothing hurt more than the scene I’d just witnessed. My feet moved mechanically, and before I realized it, I had collided with Mary, the housekeeper.
“Oh, Mrs Isla—”
I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t speak. The lump in my throat was too thick, the tears blurring my vision. I walked past her without a word, not even acknowledging her concerned voice as she called after me. The pain in my chest was unbearable, and I needed air. I needed to escape.
The mansion gates loomed ahead, and I didn’t hesitate as I pushed them open and stepped out into the crisp evening air. The cool breeze brushed against my damp cheeks as I wandered down the road, my heart breaking with each step.
I ha
