BOUND TO HER LIGHT

CHAPTER 3

The Duván Manor was quieter than any place Isla had ever been.

Not peaceful, quiet , the kind that wrapped you in warmth.

No, this was the kind of silence that pressed in on you. Heavy. Watchful. Like the walls themselves had secrets they weren’t sharing.

Mrs. Hills met her at the door promptly at 8 a.m. as instructed. The woman didn’t smile. Isla wasn’t sure she knew how.

“Miss Barlow,” Mrs. Hills said briskly. “You’re late.”

Isla froze. “I...It’s exactly eight...”

The woman’s gaze was sharp enough to cut through excuses. “Arrive ten minutes early next time. Punctuality here is not about arriving on time. It is about being prepared before you are needed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Isla murmured, cheeks heating.

Mrs. Hills led her deeper into the mansion, heels clicking against the marble floor. “Breakfast is in the sunroom. The children wake at seven. They eat at seven-thirty. They play until nine, then lessons. Lunch at twelve. Nap at one. Afternoon play until four. Dinner at six. Bedtime is eight sharp.”

Isla nodded quickly, trying to remember it all.

Mrs. Hills glanced at her. “You will assist with lessons, supervise playtime, and ensure the children adhere to schedule. They are intelligent but spirited.”

“Spirited” turned out to be a polite way of saying chaos wrapped in tiny bodies.

Because the moment Isla stepped into the sunroom, Evie and Maxen descended like a pair of tiny whirlwinds.

Evie’s curls bounced as she jumped up from her chair. “You came back!” she announced like Isla had personally promised her the moon.

Maxen, on the other hand, just pointed at Isla and shouted, “Cookie!” even though there were clearly no cookies in sight.

“Maxen,” Mrs. Hills said sharply.

The boy flinched, then grinned like he hadn’t heard a thing.

Isla crouched carefully to their level. “Hello, Evie. Hello, Maxen.”

Evie blinked at her, serious as a judge. “Do you know how to make pancakes?”

“Yes,” Isla said softly.

“No green stuff,” Evie warned again, her little nose wrinkling.

“Noted,” Isla said with a faint smile.

Maxen toddled over and handed her his stuffed rabbit like it was the most valuable treasure in the world. “Bunny,” he said solemnly.

“Oh,” Isla murmured, accepting the drool-stained toy like it was sacred. “Hello, Bunny.”

“Bunny sleepy,” Maxen announced before running straight into a chair leg and falling on his bottom.

He didn’t cry. Just sat there blinking like he wasn’t sure what happened.

Evie sighed. “He does that a lot.”

Mrs. Hills cleared her throat. “Miss Barlow, the children have playtime in the west garden after breakfast. Keep them within sight at all times. Mr. Duván expects order.”

As if on cue, a deep voice cut through the room.

“Evie. Maxen. Sit.”

Gabriel Duván had entered silently, his wheelchair gliding across the floor like it belonged there. He wore a black shirt again, sleeves rolled, expression carved from stone.

The children scrambled into their chairs instantly.

“Morning, Daddy,” Evie chirped.

“Eat,” Gabriel said simply, setting down a newspaper.

He didn’t look at Isla. Not once. But somehow, she felt his presence like a storm cloud at the edge of the room.

Breakfast was quiet except for Evie’s chatter and Maxen’s habit of banging his spoon like a drum. When the children finished, Mrs. Hills nodded toward the glass doors.

“The west garden, Miss Barlow.”

Outside, the garden was almost too perfect. Neatly trimmed hedges. A small fountain trickling in the center. It felt like stepping into a painting.

Evie immediately began twirling in the grass. “Look, Maxen! I’m a fairy!”

Maxen threw his bunny in the fountain.

Isla gasped. “Oh no......”

“Bunny swimming!” Maxen announced proudly.

Evie groaned. “Maxen, now he’s all wet.”

Maxen giggled like this was the best thing that had ever happened.

Isla fished the soaked toy out and sighed. She was already exhausted, and it wasn’t even nine a.m.

From the terrace above, Gabriel watched silently, arms crossed, expression unreadable.