Fading Spotlight

Chapter 4: "Leave me alone, please!"

FADING SPOTLIGHT

Isabella woke up to the familiar sights of her room. The distant hymns from the Catholic church marked a bright Sunday morning. What happened the previous day felt surreal, like a never-ending nightmare.

She grabbed the television remote from the bedside drawer and powered it on, bringing the news channel to life.

"Some Twitter users have initiated a petition calling for the arrest of young actress Isabella Parker," the news anchor announced. "This follows a series of accusations made by TV show host William Hart last night."

Isabella crumpled a part of the bedsheet beneath her clenched fists, with her eyes fixed on the television screen.

"No!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the mansion.

Her mother, Cynthia, rushed into the room, moving closer to her. "Sweetheart, are you alright?" she asked.

"Who is doing this to me, Mom? Who?" Isabella clung to her, tears welling up.

"Everything will be fine, dear, don't worry."

"I hope so. I hope so, Mom."

As Isabella sought solace in her mother's company, sirens of police car wailed in the compound of their building. They exchanged glances and, in a flash, fled to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

Edward met them in the living room. "There's good news and bad news," he said.

"Start with the bad news," Isabella said.

"The media is gathered outside the house," Edward replied.

"And the good news? Why are the police here?" Isabella demanded.

"It's Mr. Michael Parker, "Edward informed. "He came with a police escort."

"Dad is here? How is that supposed to be good news?" Isabella retorted, rolling her eyes.

Cynthia stepped in, "Calm down, darling. We need to stand together as a family during this difficult time."

"Don't tell me that, Mom. Dad is to blame for my ruined life. I never wanted to become famous," Isabella roared and headed towards her room. "Shit!"

"Language!" Cynthia admonished her.

"I'm sorry," she replied with her hands in the air.

When Isabella got to her room's door, she stopped and wondered, "Did I leave the door partially open?"

In time, she dismissed the notion and entered the room. "Perhaps, Mom did."
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The front door of the mansion opened, and a man in an executive outfit walked in with luggage. Cynthia rushed to him, embracing him.

"I heard what happened," the man said. "Is our daughter all right?"

"Yes, Michael, she's in her room," she said, releasing her hold. "I've missed you a lot. But what happened to your five-month trip?"

"Oh, i read the news about Isabella so i had to come home," Michael replied. "Family first."

Edward assisted Michael with his luggage, and then Michael and Cynthia ascended the stairs to their room in each other's arms.

Michael paused, squinting at a figure coming from Isabella's room.

"Who's she? I think I've seen her somewhere before," he murmured to Cynthia, nodding in the direction of the figure.

"Who? Selena? She's a maid servant," Cynthia replied him. "Did you say you've seen her before? She's from some old town. She came here about three months ago and rarely leaves the house. Now, tell me, how could you have seen her? You weren't even in the country."