Uncle Sam sat quietly on the sofa beside Isabella's bed, a half-empty coffee cup resting on the small table nearby. The servants had finished cleaning her up and, at his request, dressed her in a simple set of boys' clothes. They had left without a word, leaving only the soft ticking of the clock and Isabella's steady breathing to fill the silence.
Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on his niece's face. She looked calmer now, almost fragile, but there was still something unsettled beneath her expression. He let out a slow breath, his fingers lightly tapping against the porcelain cup before setting it down completely.
When he saw her stir, her lashes fluttering open, Sam straightened.
"Hi, Bella," he said softly, moving closer to her bed. "How are you feeling?"
Isabella blinked, trying to adjust to the light and the unfamiliar calmness in his voice. She looked at him warily, then down at the clothes she was wearing. Her brows furrowed.
"These clothes…" she whispered, touching the fabric. "Why am I dressed like this?"
Sam smiled gently, as though he had expected the question. "Because I thought it might help. I wanted you to feel like yourself. I know it's not what the others want, but… I also know what it's like to live in a house where everyone else's voice is louder than yours."
She studied him, suspicious but curious. "What do you mean?"
Sam leaned back slightly, his gaze softening with memories. "You know… people in this family, especially your grandparents, they always had plans for us. Your father, your uncles, me—we were told what to study, how to behave, who to be. I never spoke much about myself. I was the quiet one, the dull one, the one who never argued. But it wasn't because I agreed. It was because I was hiding something I thought they would never accept."
He paused, looking down at his hands before meeting her eyes again. "Bella, I'm gay. That was my truth. While everyone else tried to push me into a box, I was living with this secret. It was suffocating. I know how it feels—to be different, to want something everyone else thinks is wrong."
Isabella's eyes widened slightly. The tension in her body seemed to ease as she pulled herself up slowly against the headboard. "You… you're gay?" she asked, her tone a mix of surprise and relief.
"Yes," Sam said simply. "And I know what it's like to love someone the world tells you you shouldn't. So when I see you struggling, Bella, I don't see someone who's 'possessed' or broken. I see someone who's just like I was—scared, confused, but strong enough to know what her heart wants."
For the first time since her ordeal began, Isabella's guarded eyes softened. She took a breath, her fingers tightening around the sheets. "Her name is Ava," she said quietly, almost testing the waters.
Sam didn't react with shock. Instead, he leaned in just a little closer, nodding for her to go on.
"She's… she's the only one who makes me feel alive. She doesn't see me as wrong, she just… she just sees me." Isabella's voice broke slightly, and she quickly brushed at her eyes. "But no one here will ever understand that."
Sam reached out, resting a steady hand over hers. "I understand. More than you think. And maybe the others don't have to understand right now. What matters is you. What matters is that you stay safe until you're old enough to make your own choices. Because when you do… when you've grown into the woman you want to be, the lawyer you dream of becoming… you'll be unstoppable. And the world will have no choice but to listen."
Isabella stared at him, tears glistening in her eyes but a faint smile tugging at her lips. For once, she felt like she wasn't fighting alone.
"So what do I do now?" she asked, her voice trembling with both fear and hope.
Sam gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "For now, you show them your best. Let them think you're calm, changed, obedient. Let them believe what they want. Because inside, you'll know your truth. And when the time comes, Bella—you'll step into your future with nothing and no one holding you back."
Isabella exhaled shakily, the heaviness in her chest lifting just enough to breathe freely again. She nodded slowly. "Okay… I'll try."
Sam smiled warmly, pride flickering in his eyes. "That's all I ask. Just try. And remember—you're not alone in this."
For the first time, Isabella relaxed back into her pillows, no longer feeling like a prisoner, but like someone who had an ally in the very place she thought she was most alone.
THE HOTEL ROOM
Ava woke with a start, the ceiling fan turning slow circles above her. The room smelled like soap and clean sheets. It wasn't her room. The curtains were strange. The lamp was strange. Her heart kicked.
"Mum…? Where are we?"
Joyce was sitting beside her with a damp towel, eyes swollen from worry but gentle. She pressed the cool cloth to Ava's forehead and smiled like she was trying to hold the world steady.
Joyce: "We're at a hotel, love. Far from the house."
Ava pushed herself up against the pillows. Her head felt heavy, her mouth dry.
"Why? What… what happened?"
Joyce took a breath like she was lifting something heavy.
"Claire woke me up in the middle of the night. She came to my door in a hurry. She said, 'Joyce, take Ava and go. Go far. Don't wait till morning.' She gave me keys to one of her cars and a bank card. She wouldn't explain. She said, 'Ask Ava. She'll know.'"
Ava blinked, eyes darting as if reaching for a memory that kept sliding away. Then the images came in little jolts, the night air, the market lights, the park bench, the ring in her palm, the kiss. And then the weight in her chest when she thought of Adrian's face if he ever knew.
"Sir must have found out…"Ava said,barely above a whisper
Joyce watched her closely.
"Found out what, Ava? Tell me. I need the truth. I won't be angry. I won't shame you. If Claire could risk everything to keep you safe, then I can stand beside you and protect you too. Whatever it is."
Ava's throat tightened. She stared at her hands, fingers knotted in the sheet.
"You'll think I'm… wrong."
Joyce shook her head at once and took both of Ava's hands in her own.
"I won't. You are my daughter. Tell me."
Silence pressed between them. Ava's eyes filled. She looked like someone standing on the edge of a roof, afraid to jump, afraid to stay.
"It's Isabella," she said at last, voice shaking. "We… we're more than friends."
Joyce didn't let go. She didn't flinch. She only rubbed slow circles over Ava's knuckles.
"How long have you felt this way?"
"I don't know when it began. It just… grew. She always watched out for me. I felt safe with her. And when she looked at me, it was like the world stopped. I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was wrong. But last night…" Her breath hitched. "We went out for ice cream. Then we sat under the stars. She asked me to be her girlfriend." Ava's hand rose to her chest, as if she could still feel the cool metal there. "She gave me a ring."
Joyce's eyes softened.
"And you said…?"
A tear slid down Ava's face.
"I said yes."
She covered her mouth and a small, broken sound escaped.
"We kissed. It was soft. It was… right. And I think her dad found out. I'm not too sure mum. I can't tell if this is the reason. That must be why Claire sent us away.
Joyce pulled her into a hug, tight and fierce.
"I don't know either. Why she wants us out of their lives but baby you did nothing shameful. Do you hear me? You loved. That is not a crime."