Business magnate's daughter, Isla Templeton (Feather), is the youngest of André Templeton's three children. And the top topic in the upper-class gossip in New York City.
Isla has always been a fighter; after losing her mother at a young age by sui...
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Sunday mornings are meant to be peaceful. Most of the mansion's staff are off today, except for Elma. With no family of her own in town, she says she likes to stay busy, and this weekend she's been focused on cleaning the attic.
I appreciate having her around; it's comforting to know someone is waiting for me when I get home, especially after school, when life may feel overwhelming.
Tomorrow is the first day of school, and I'm not ready. The thought of facing everyone, pretending everything is fine, feels daunting.
I grab my school uniform and head to the laundry room, desperate for a distraction from the looming dread of seeing Claude.
The laundry room is cool and quiet. I load the uniform, start the cycle, and climb onto the wooden table, drawing my knees to my chest. I watch the clothes spin, trying to drown out the noise in my head.
The door creaks open, and I don't need to look up to know it's Claude. I feel him pause in the doorway before he steps inside and closes the door softly.
"Hey," he says gently. I keep my eyes on the washing machine, unwilling to meet his gaze. I don't want him to see how close I am to breaking.
Claude moves closer, standing beside me. I expect him to stay silent, as he often does when he senses I need space. But this time, he surprised me.
He cups my face in his hands with such tenderness that it makes my heart ache. I finally look up, meeting his eyes. The care in his expression makes my throat tighten.
Before I can speak, he leans in and presses a soft kiss on my cheek, taking my breath away. Then he does it again—another light kiss on my other cheek, then one on my nose, and finally, a gentle kiss on my forehead.
A tear slips down my cheek, and Claude wipes it away with his thumb.
"You're not alone, Isla," he whispers, his voice steady and full of quiet reassurance. "I'm here. I'll always be here."
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands on my face, the softness of his kisses still lingering on my skin.
But the fear creeps back in, and I pull away slightly, opening my eyes to meet his. "I... I need some time," I manage to say, my voice trembling. I'm not ready to let him all the way in—not yet.
Claude nods, not pushing or trying to persuade me otherwise. "Take all the time you need," he says softly, his hands slipping away from my face. "I'll be here when you're ready."
He gives me one last look before turning to leave. The door clicks shut behind him, and I'm left alone in the quiet room.
I slide off the table to finish the laundry, my hands still trembling slightly.
After a couple of hours, with my school clothes ready for the week, I go upstairs to the darkroom.
