Chapter 8 - THE GHOSTS OF THE PAST
Despite the corporate victory and Beatriz’s impending trial, shadows of the past still occasionally lingered in the quiet corners of the Marbella villa.
One evening, as a summer thunderstorm rolled across the coast, lightning flashed violently outside the large French windows of the second-floor library. The sharp boom of thunder rattled the glass panes.
I was working at my desk when I heard soft, hesitant footsteps padding down the hallway.
The door creaked open an inch. Isabella’s small face peeked into the room, illuminated by the dim desk lamp. She was clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest, her lower lip trembling slightly.
"Isabella? What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked immediately, standing up from my chair and walking over to her.
"The thunder is loud," she whispered, her eyes wide. "Can... can I stay in here with you?"
"Of course you can," I scooped her up into my arms, carrying her over to the leather sofa near the bookshelf.
I sat down, holding her close against my chest, wrapping a soft cashmere throw blanket around her shoulders. For a long time, we just sat in silence, listening to the heavy rain drumming rhythmically against the tile roof outside.
"Daddy?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, my love?"
"Are we ever going back to the way it was when the bad lady was here?"
My heart broke a little hearing the lingering insecurity in her voice. I cupped her small cheek, making sure she looked straight into my eyes.
May you like
"Never, Isabella," I promised, letting every ounce of absolute certainty flow into my tone. "That woman is gone forever. Nobody will ever hurt you, scare you, or make you do things you shouldn't do in this house again. You are safe. I am your father, and my only job is to protect you."
Isabella let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving her tiny frame. She rested her head against my shoulder, and within minutes, the sound of the rain lulled her into a peaceful, secure sleep.
