When evening came around, Anna worried about how her first night would be in the cold space that had now become her new abode for the next one month or more if she got lucky.
Morning rolled around quite quickly. She barely slept but there was no time to bother about that. According to the schedule breakfast would be in about an hour.
~~~~
Breakfast was a quiet affair.
Too quiet.
Anna sat at the edge of the marble kitchen island, coffee in hand, trying to look casual. But she was watching—listening—filing everything away. Roland, the in-house chef, moved with mechanical precision. He didn't talk much. Didn't hum or clatter pans. Just plated food like he was in a five-star hotel where conversation was extra.
Isla shuffled into the room in her pajamas. The same soft cotton set with faded stars and a tiny hole in one sleeve. Bunny in arm. Head down.
Anna smiled gently. "Good morning, sweetheart."
Isla gave a tiny nod and climbed onto the stool without a word. She didn't reach for the food in front of her—eggs, toast, sliced strawberries arranged like a flower. She just stared at it. Eyes steady. Waiting.
Anna leaned a little closer, kept her tone light. "Want to eat together?"
Still nothing. But Isla didn't pull away, either.
Then Anna caught it—a glance toward the hallway.
Waiting for someone else.
A few seconds later, footsteps.
Not rushed. Not dragging.
Measured.
Zane Frost walked into the room like he belonged in a magazine ad for ruthless efficiency. Crisp charcoal suit. Black tie. Eyes locked on his phone. Already halfway through his morning grind before he'd had a sip of coffee.
He didn't look at Isla. Or Anna.
"Isla," he said, still scanning his screen. "Eat."
Isla picked up her fork immediately and began cutting her toast into even, perfect squares.
Anna watched her, and something in her chest tightened.
There was no small talk. No morning hug. No warmth. Just command and compliance. Like this was a company briefing, not a kitchen.
She cleared her throat lightly. "Good morning, Mr. Frost."
Zane looked up briefly. "Miss Rivera."
And just like that, his attention dropped back to the glowing screen in his hand.
Anna bit back a sigh. This was going to be one hell of a job.
He walked over to the coffee machine, typed something into his phone, took a sip.
Zane finally turned back toward them. "You'll take her to school today. The driver's on standby. Keys are in the foyer. Roland will show you."
Anna blinked. "Oh—I assumed you'd be dropping her off."
Zane didn't flinch. "I don't do drop-offs."
He said it like someone saying, I don't do karaoke. A line. A boundary. Non-negotiable.
Isla didn't react. Not a flicker. She was obviously used to the process.
Anna's voice stayed calm as she glanced at the little girl who was oddly quiet. "It might mean a lot if you did."
Zane's eyes lifted. Cold. Focused. "I'm hiring a nanny, not a therapist. Be careful Miss Rivera."
"I'm just saying—she's quiet, not unreachable."
That did it.
Zane stepped forward. Nothing dramatic. Just closer. Just enough.
"Miss Rivera," he said softly. Dangerously. "Overstep again, and we'll revisit your employment terms. Understood?"
Even Roland had paused his prep.
Anna nodded, heart thumping. "Understood."
Zane gave Isla a final glance. "I'll be late tonight. Be good."
Then—barely—he brushed his hand over Isla's hair. A ghost of a touch. Then gone.
He left without a backward glance.
Isla ate in silence.
Anna watched her peel the crusts off her toast, piece by piece. Bite by bite. It wasn't pickiness—it was ritual. Control. Precision. Just like her father.
After breakfast, Anna helped her into a light sweater and brushed out her curls. Isla didn't speak, but she didn't resist. And when Anna held out her hand to lead her to the car, Isla hesitated only a second before taking it.
That was some progress and the realization warmed Anna's heart.
The drive to school was quiet, but not heavy.
At the school gates, the driver parked and Anna walked her in. Other kids ran past, laughing, yelling, tugging at backpacks. Isla stuck to Anna's side like a shadow.
Her classroom was bright. Cheerful. Almost jarringly so compared to the Frost estate. The teacher, a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and floral earrings, smiled as they entered.
"Ah, Isla. And you must be Miss Rivera."
Anna smiled. "Yes. Just starting today."
"Glad to have you. Isla's quiet, but a sweet girl. Always reads during free time. Keeps to herself mostly."
Anna nodded. "She handed me her bunny this morning. Told me to keep her safe."
The teacher's eyebrows lifted slightly. "She doesn't usually do that."
Anna looked at the worn plush animal now clutched in her hand. "I figured."
Isla slipped into her seat without a word. She didn't say goodbye. But she did glance back at Anna once.
Anna held up Clover and tapped her chest. "Safe," she mouthed.
That earned her the tiniest nod and a hint of a smile.
Then Isla turned to her schoolwork, and Anna left.
•
Back at the house, the silence was thick again.
Anna wandered the halls, binder in hand, reading over the rules Lora had highlighted. Every minute accounted for. Every action mapped. Screen time—none. Sugar—none. Socializing—minimum.
It was less a schedule and more a prison protocol.
She ended up in the garden around midday. It was beautiful in a landscaped, untouched way. Not a single ball, chalk drawing, or bent flower in sight.
She sat on the cold stone bench, arms folded, staring at the house.
There were no birds. No bugs. No life.
Anna exhaled slowly.
What kind of man builds a fortress to keep out a child? Anna wondered.
•
Pickup was uneventful.
Until Isla spotted Anna waiting outside the classroom.
She didn't run. But she walked fast. Straight into Anna's arms, pressing her face briefly into Anna's coat before stepping back like it never happened.
Anna knelt and smiled. "I kept her safe. Just like I promised."
Isla didn't speak. But she reached for Clover with both hands and held her like she hadn't breathed all day without her.
They walked to the car in silence.
But Isla's fingers stayed laced with Anna's the whole way.
•
That night, bedtime came easily.
Bath, pajamas, teeth. Isla moved through it all like muscle memory.
Anna combed her curls slowly, gently, letting the rhythm settle them both. Isla didn't flinch. Didn't squirm.
Then, as Anna pulled the blanket up to her chin, Isla whispered—
"He used to smile. A long time ago."
Anna froze. "Who, sweetheart?"
Isla's eyes met hers in the dim light. "Daddy."
And then she turned, tucked herself into her bunny, and pulled the covers up over her head.
No further questions.
Anna sat there for a long time, fingers resting against the edge of the bed.
She didn't know what made Zane Frost stop smiling.
But she knew this—
He wasn't the only one in that house who needed healing.
And tomorrow, she'd show up again.
No matter how cold it got.