They sat at the kitchen table with the lights off, some instinct in both of them insisting on the dark, as though the truth might come easier without the glare of the overhead bulb exposing every crack in Isabella's composure. A single candle burned between them, left over from some dinner months ago, its flame throwing long, unsteady shadows across the walls."Start from the beginning," Anastasia said. Her voice had steadied, some numb, functional calm settling over her in place of the earlier panic."Please. All of it, in order, the way you wanted to tell me."Isabella wrapped both hands around a mug of tea she wasn't drinking, staring down into it as though the words she needed might be found somewhere in its surface."I wasn't your mother," she said finally."You know that now, I suppose, though I don't think you've let yourself feel it yet. I was your caretaker. I had worked for your family for six years by the time everything happened—"She stopped, swallowed."Before everything
Last Updated : 2026-10-25 Read more