Morning light spilled through the tall windows of Isabella's chamber, muted by the heavy drapes Rafael insisted remain drawn most of the time. She stirred at the sound of quiet footsteps, the rustle of fabric. When she blinked awake, Selena was already standing at the foot of the bed, her face composed, her hands folded neatly before her.
"Breakfast is ready, Señora" she said simply, her tone clipped, her eyes fixed anywhere but Isabella's.
The coldness stung more than Isabella expected. After the night they'd had, after the cruel words Selena had thrown at her, she'd hoped time might soften things. But no, Selena's walls were firmly in place, her movements efficient, her voice stripped of warmth.
Isabella pushed herself upright, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders. "Selena," she said softly, "I need to apologize."
That earned a flicker of hesitation, though Selena still didn't look at her.
"I shouldn't have pressed you yesterday," Isabella continued. "It wasn't my place. You're right....I don't know everything you endure here. I only know how much you've done for me since the first day I stepped into this house. You've protected me, guided me, and… you're the closest thing I have to a friend in this place. My only friend."
The last words cracked her voice, and finally, Selena's gaze lifted, sharp at first, defensive but then it faltered when she saw the sincerity in Isabella's eyes.
"I'm sorry," Isabella whispered. "I should have trusted you to handle yourself. But if there ever comes a time you can't… if you ever need help, anything at all....please. Don't shut me out. Don't carry it alone."
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. The air was thick with everything unsaid, everything Selena wouldn't or couldn't voice. Her jaw tightened, and Isabella thought she might walk away again. But then Selena's hand twitched against her skirt.
Isabella reached across the blankets, slow and careful, like approaching a frightened bird. She took Selena's hand and gave it the faintest squeeze.
Selena didn't pull away.
Her shoulders lowered, some of the tension bleeding out of her posture. "You're too soft, señora," she muttered, but her voice had lost its edge.
A small smile broke across Isabella's lips, the first one in days.
"I'm equally sorry for the way I spoke to you yesterday,it was uncalled for" Selena apologized.
"Let's call it even" Isabella said.
Selena nodded sighing, almost exasperated with herself, and withdrew her hand only so she could move about the room. "Come," she said briskly, though her tone had warmed. "You need a bath before you face the El Diablo downstairs."
Isabella chuckled under her breath as Selena drew the bath, steam rising fragrant with lavender soap. She laid out a pale silk dress on the bed and fussed with the brush on the vanity.
"What's for breakfast?" Isabella asked, her tone deliberately light.
Selena's mouth curved faintly as she folded stockings. "The cooks went overboard again. Chilaquiles, tamales, fruit, and enough sweet bread to make you sick. They're terrified of sending El Diablo's wife to table with an empty stomach."
Isabella laughed outright at that, the sound surprising even herself. "Wife indeed" Isabella smiled bitterly. "Then I'll have to eat enough for two, won't I?"
Selena gave her a side glance,a smile tugging her lips. "Don't worry. I'll make sure they don't poison you with too much sugar."
For the first time since the fight, the tension between them eased. Fragile, yes..but mended, at least for now.
....
Selena walked Isabella down the long corridor in silence, her steps quiet against the marble. At the bottom of the staircase, she stopped, her hand brushing Isabella's elbow briefly before pulling away.
"The dining hall is ready," she said, voice clipped, eyes averted. Then, as soon as Isabella stepped forward, Selena turned and disappeared into the shadows of the hall.
The long mahogany table was set with silver trays and porcelain plates. Warm tortillas, eggs dusted with chili, sliced mangoes gleaming like gold, and fresh bread that filled the room with its sweet scent. Steam curled from a coffee pot at the far end, bitter and strong.
Isabella's stomach growled as she sat down loud enough to make her twitch her mouth sideways in irritation. She folded her hands in her lap, determined to wait. Rafael hadn't come down yet, and it felt wrong to eat before him.
But the smell was too much.
After several minutes of restraint, she snatched up her fork and tore into the bread, stuffing it into her mouth greedily. Butter melted on her tongue, soft and rich, and she couldn't help the groan that slipped from her lips.
"Oh God… this is so good," she muttered to herself, too lost in hunger to care.
She reached for the eggs next, devouring them in quick bites.
She didn't see the shadow in the doorway.
Rafael Navarro leaned against the frame, silent, his eyes fixed on her. He watched as she stuffed her mouth like a starving child, oblivious to his presence. His face portrayed nothing but the faintest flicker of irritation in his gaze though whether it was at her lack of manners or something else, it was impossible to say.
When he finally cleared his throat, the sound was sharp as a gunshot in the quiet hall.
Isabella froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Her eyes snapped up only to find him standing there, broad and cold, his presence filling the room. She gaped at him, food still in her mouth, cheeks burning.
For a second, she thought he might lash out. Instead, he waved a dismissive hand, as if brushing off her embarrassment. His expression settled back into its usual unreadable mask.
Without a word, he crossed the room and sat at the far end of the table. A maid appeared instantly to pour him black coffee. Rafael took the cup and sipped slowly, eyes on his phone, his features cut sharp in the morning light.
Isabella bowed her head, heart pounding, too rattled to take another bite. She kept her hands folded on her lap, staring at her plate like a schoolgirl waiting for punishment.
The silence stretched until it felt unbearable.
Then Rafael's voice, low and commanding, slid across the table:
"Eat."
She flinched at the word but obeyed. Her fork moved slowly now, each bite careful, deliberate, as if she were being tested.
Rafael scrolled through his phone, sipping his coffee between glances, never sparing her more than a passing look.
When his cup was empty, he set it down, stood, and adjusted his cuffs. He didn't say another word. He didn't look at her again.
And just like that, El Diablo walked out, leaving Isabella alone with her plate half-finished and her nerves frayed to the bone.
The sound of his footsteps faded into the endless corridors until there was only silence. A silence so heavy it pressed against Isabella's chest.
She set her fork down with trembling fingers. The food that had tasted like heaven a moment ago now lay like lead in her stomach. What had been warmth and sweetness had turned bitter, as if his eyes, his presence, had stolen the joy right out of it.
Her gaze drifted to the doorway where he had stood. Just thinking about the way he had looked at her, like she was something pitiful made her shrink further in her chair.
Why did she always feel smaller around him? Like every breath was borrowed, every mistake a reminder that she wasn't free, not even in the smallest moments.
Her stomach tightened painfully. She wanted to eat more, to satisfy the gnawing hunger, but the thought of raising the fork again while his shadow still lingered in the room made her want to retch.
Isabella folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head, forcing the tears to stay put. Crying here, at his table, would feel like surrendering even more of herself.
She glanced at the plates again, the feast before her, untouched now. The irony twisted inside her like a knife. She had been starving, and for a few stolen seconds she'd allowed herself to enjoy it. But joy was dangerous here. Joy was a weakness he could snuff out with a glance.
That was the real prison, she realized. Not the walls, not the guards, not even his commands. It was the way Rafael Navarro had stolen the simplest freedoms from her, eating when she was hungry, laughing when she wanted, speaking when words rose to her lips.
Her stomach growled again, but she ignored it this time. She sat perfectly still, the grand hall stretching out around her, a queen at a table of gold with nothing but silence for company.
And somewhere in the shadows of the house, she knew he was listening. Watching. Waiting.