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a dock
Last Updated:
2025-12-30 13:21:16
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His Unwanted Witness next observation
The house carried a different rhythm after breakfast.Not louder. Not quieter. Just altered, like a breath held a second too long.Isadora felt it as she walked the west corridor. Her steps were unhurried, her posture loose, her face neutral. Anyone watching would see a woman moving without purpose. Someone filling time.That was intentional.Purpose drew attention.She stopped near the archway that led toward the service hall, pretending to examine a framed painting. The colors were muted. Coastal. Boats pulled onto sand. Fishermen blurred into brushstrokes.Boats.She let her gaze linger just long enough to look thoughtful, then continued walking.The service hall smelled faintly of soap and warm metal. It was narrower than the main corridors, less polished. Footsteps echoed differently here. Honest. Functional.Alina stood near a side table, sorting folded linens into neat stacks. Her movements were precise. Economical. She did not waste effort.Isadora approached without announcin
His Unwanted Witness uncertainty felt like freedom.
Isadora lay awake long after the lights dimmed, listening to the house settle into its controlled silence. Pipes whispered behind the walls. Footsteps passed at measured intervals. Somewhere far below, metal clinked against metal—keys, gates, systems locking into place.She did not move.Movement attracted notice.She breathed slowly, evenly, counting the seconds between each guard’s pass outside her door. The rhythm was steady. Predictable. Comforting to those who believed predictability meant safety.For her, it meant opportunity.When morning finally arrived, it came without warmth. Pale light slid across the floor, stopping just short of the bed. Isadora opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.Three people.One chance.She rose quietly and dressed without hurry. Every gesture was deliberate. She did not want to look like someone preparing for something. She wanted to look like someone surrendering to routine.Routine was camouflage.She stepped into the corridor and began walki
His Unwanted Witness conspiracy
She closed her eyes, then opened them again. The thought settled fully this time, heavier, clearer. Not only Amelia. Alina too. The idea did not arrive gently. It anchored itself in her chest, firm and unmovable. Alina’s face surfaced in her mind without effort—the quiet competence, the careful smiles, the way her hands always paused before touching anything valuable, as if permission were an invisible rule she never broke. Isadora pushed herself upright. Three people. The boat had to carry three people. That changed everything A single desperate escape could be hidden as an accident. Two could be explained away as negligence. Three was intent. Three was conspiracy. Three was unforgivable. She pressed her palms flat against the mattress, grounding herself. Panic tried to rise, sharp and fast, but she pressed it down. Panic wasted time. Panic invited mistakes. Think. She stood and crossed the room again, slower now, every step measured. Amelia could not run. Not far. Not
His Unwanted Witness I will not leave her
She closed the door behind her softly.The sound was quiet, controlled, but it felt final. Like sealing herself back inside something she already knew was too small.Isadora leaned her back against the wood for a moment, eyes fixed on nothing. Her chest rose and fell slowly as she forced her breathing to steady. The walk to the cliff had burned something away. Hope without shape. Illusions without edges.Now she had facts.No land route.No hidden path.No miracle swim.No escape without a boat.She pushed herself off the door and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight. Everything here was soft by design. Comfort was part of the cage.She rested her elbows on her knees and lowered her head.Think.Not panic.Not wish.Think.Boats did not appear on islands by accident.Food did not arrive by prayer.Fuel did not come by imagination.Which meant there was infrastructure.Hidden, guarded, controlled—but present.She lifted her hea
His Unwanted Witness The morning came without permission.
Light crept into the room in thin, pale lines, slipping past the curtains and touching the floor like it was testing the space first. Isadora lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet rhythm of the house waking up around her.No footsteps near her door.No voices.No summons.That alone unsettled her.She sat up slowly.Today, she decided, she would stop waiting.She dressed quickly and quietly, movements practiced, controlled. There was no disguise in what she wore, no attempt to hide herself. She did not plan to run like prey. She planned to walk like someone who belonged.Because panic drew attention.Calm passed unnoticed.She opened the door and stepped into the hallway.The house was quieter than usual. Staff moved in the distance, heads down, focused on tasks. A guard stood near the staircase, posture relaxed, eyes forward.Isadora walked past him without hesitation.He glanced at her, then looked away.She kept going.Through the main hall.Pa
His Unwanted Witness a dock
The hallway leading to the rooms on the lower floor was quieter than the rest of the house.Isadora felt it the moment she turned into it.The air was cooler. The light dimmer. The sounds of movement faded into something distant and muted, as if this part of the house had been designed to hold breath instead of life.Two guards stood near the door at the far end.They straightened when they saw her.“I want to see Amelia,” Isadora said evenly.One of them hesitated. The other looked toward the door, then back at her.“She is resting,” the taller guard replied.Isadora stepped closer.“So am I,” she said calmly. “That has never stopped him from interrupting me.”The guard’s jaw tightened. He did not argue. He opened the door.The room inside was smaller than Isadora’s. Not a cell. Not a cage. But not freedom either.The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in a thin line of light that cut across the floor. A bed sat against the far wall. A chair beside it. A small table with a glass of
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