Chapter 11: The poisoned olive branch.

ISADORA’S POV

My cell phone rang, and the name that flashed on the screen made my stomach turn.

I saw it was Rosalind, the last person on this earth that I ever wanted to see.

“What do you want?” I demanded, clutching the phone to my ear.

“I want us to meet for lunch to fix some things between us,” Rosalind said in an almost gentle voice.

I shook my head instantly, pacing back and forth across my living room floor.

“I am not going anywhere with you,” I snapped, my phone almost slipping from my shaking fingers.

I decided in that second that opening old wounds was a terrible idea.

"Please, Isadora, just give me thirty minutes of your time," Rosalind pleaded, softening her tone even more.

“There is nothing to talk about,” I said, pausing beside the sofa.

I felt a sudden pulse of panic because I did not trust her intentions for a single second.

"It is about Rafael, and you know you need answers about his family," Rosalind murmured, playing right into my biggest weakness.

I stared down at the carpet, torn between my fear and my burning curiosity.

“I do not need your help to understand Rafael,” I lied, forcing my voice to remain steady.

"You do not know the real truth about his medical history or his past," she added, pushing her advantage forward.

My mind raced as I weighed the danger of meeting her against the value of finding out what she knew.

“If this is a setup, I walk away immediately,” I warned, giving in to sheer desperation to protect Rafael.

“No problem sister, I will be waiting for you at the café downtown,” Rosalind said, her voice growing softer as if she could hear my internal thoughts.

She ended the call before I could object again, making me clutch my bag as I walked out to my car, and sat behind the steering wheel, hovering over the ignition for ten long minutes as I battled with myself.

It was one thing knowing that seeing her was a risk, but it was an entirely different matter to stay in ignorance.

I finally drove down to the café, stepping through the front doors with a heavy feeling in my chest.

She chose a quiet corner table at the very back of the room.

"I am so glad you came," Rosalind said, smiling as she pulled out a chair for me.

She looked calm, but I could feel the tension rising between us.

“I did not come here to be your friend,” I said, taking a seat across from her. I forced my hands to remain folded in my lap so she would not notice their unsteady movement.

Rosalind leaned back, sipping her iced water in silence.

“We do not have to be enemies,” she said, placing the glass down on the table with unnerving gentleness.

"You spent months trying to destroy my life," I reminded her, staring directly into her eyes.

I wondered if this entire meeting was just another one of her carefully planned traps.

Rosalind smiled again, but the warmth never reached her eyes.

"I was only protecting Rafael," she said softly, adjusting the strap of her leather handbag.

“Rafael does not need protection, he is clearly a man and can take care of himself” I replied, copying her posture by leaning forward slightly.

My heart raced in my chest, because I knew she was hiding something behind that calm face.

“You do not know him as well as you think,” she said, shaking her head with fake pity.

"I know him well enough," I insisted, though a wave of doubt washed over me.

“Did you know he cannot sleep at night without a nightlight?” asked Rosalind, tilting her head to one side.

My breath caught in my throat as I processed what she was saying. She smiled knowingly, sensing that I was stunned.

“He spent three weeks in the hospital when he was eight years old,” said Rosalind, picking at her food.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, gripping the edge of the wooden table.

I hated how much power she had over me in this very moment.

“Because I was the one who took care of him in that hospital,” replied Rosalind, wiping her lips with a napkin.

She reached across the table and placed her hand over mine which I withdrew immediately, feeling queasy at the contact.

"He trusts me with his secrets," she boasted, watching me like a hawk.

I looked away because I did not want her to see how much those words hurt me.

"That was in the past," I declared, trying to sound much braver than I felt.

“The past haunts us all,” Rosalind said, dropping the napkin on her plate as she rumpled with her large designer handbag and slid it open.

“I need to dab some lipstick in the washroom,” said Rosalind, standing up from the table.

“"Take your time," I muttered, looking out the window to avoid her gaze.

She bumped against my chair as she walked past me into the narrow hallway. Her heavy coat brushed over my open bag that lay on the floor at my feet.

Her heavy coat brushed over my open purse, which was resting on the floor beside my feet.

I did not think much of it because I was too busy fighting the terrible thoughts in my head.

Was she telling the truth about Rafael, or was this just another clever game to make me leave?

I decided I needed to ask Rafael about his past as soon as I got home tonight.

Few minutes later Rosalind came back to the table after a while, smoothing her dress with a satisfied look on her face.

as if preparing for battle.

Little did I know she had dropped a tiny black tracking device right into the dark corner of my leather purse while I was looking away.

“I should be going now,” said Rosalind, picking up her coat from the back of her empty chair. 

"That is probably for the best," I replied, staying seated so I would not have to say goodbye properly.

"Think about what I said," she advised, turning around and walking toward the glass door.

I sat in the same place for a long time, grappling with the enormity of the day’s events and trying to collect my scattered thoughts.

Then, my cell phone began to ring loudly inside my bag, puncturing the uncomfortable silence.

I reached down, grabbed the phone, and saw an unknown local number on the screen.

"Hello?" I answered, lifting the phone up to my right ear.

A loud sob came through the speaker before anyone even spoke a word.

"Isadora, please listen to me," Beatrice Fenwick wept, her voice trembling with pure terror.

"Beatrice? What is wrong?" I asked, standing up so fast my chair nearly fell backward.

“My dear, you have to stop digging into the family secrets,” said Beatrice, her voice barely audible over the sobs.

“I cannot do that,” I said, taking a step away from the empty chairs around me. I made up my mind in that instant to pursue the truth wherever it led.

"You do not understand what these people are capable of doing to you," Beatrice whispered, gasping for air.

"Tell me what you know," I demanded, holding the phone tightly against my ear.

"They will destroy you just like they destroyed the others," she sobbed, coughing into the receiver.

“What other are you talking about?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

I decided right then that I would not let her hang up until she gave me a clear name.

“I will not walk away while they are trying to hurt me,” I said, determined to get to the bottom of the conversation.

“Stop digging before the same thing happens to you that happened to the other baby,” screamed Beatrice, and the line went dead.