Chapter 195
Her hands trembled as she began packing. She worked quickly but
methodically, filling the suitcase with as many essentials as it could
hold. Clothes for daily wear were folded tightly against each other, a
few personal keepsakes tucked in between them. Her fingers lingered
on her mother’s ring, the delicate band from her biological father
that had always been a quiet reminder of who she was before Robert
Lancaster entered her life. She slipped it into a small pouch and
secured it in the suitcase, as though the weight of it might anchor her
amidst the storm ahead.
By two in the morning, Isla was ready. She tied the laces of her canvas
shoes with a deliberate slowness, as if prolonging the moment might
grant her strength. Her phone buzzed with a message–her ride was
here. A surge of apprehension swept through her, and she felt her
chest tighten as though she couldn’t breathe. But she had to. She had
to get up. She had to leave.
Dragging the suitcase behind her, she slipped silently into the
hallway, careful not to make a sound. The manor was dark and still,
the walls that had once cradled her childhood now seemed like silent
witnesses to her departure. She didn’t dare turn around for one last
look; she couldn’t bear to. Her resolve was fragile, and a single glance
at the place she had called home could shatter it completely.
Chapter 195
I need to do this, she reminded herself, clutching the suitcase handle
as if it might keep her steady. She wasn’t a child anymore, nor a
burden for others to carry. If this was the world’s way of pushing her
toward independence, then she would meet it with what strength she
could muster. She had no choice.
The air outside was crisp, the kind that made her cheeks sting and her
breath fog in the faint glow of the taxi’s headlights. She stepped into
the car, her suitcase thudding softly in the trunk. As the vehicle pulled away, she forced herself to face forward, staring at the winding
road ahead. She couldn’t look back, not even once.
The manor’s silhouette disappeared into the night, swallowed by the trees lining the driveway. Her heart felt heavy, like an anchor trying to pull her back, but her mind pushed her forward. This is my chance, she thought. I have to start over. I have to make it on my own.
The drive was quiet, save for the low hum of the engine. The familiar sights of Willow Creek slipped away, replaced by the vast unknown. With every mile, the ache in Isla’s chest grew sharper. Leaving behind the only life she had ever known felt like losing a part of herself. But she also knew staying wasn’t an option–not when she’d overheard Graham’s plans, not when she couldn’t stand to be a burden.
After two hours, the taxi stopped outside a modest guesthouse in Magnolia Ridge, a small, charming town she had researched earlier. It wasn’t far from the Georgia–South Carolina border, nestled in
214
Chapter 195
anonymity like a secret waiting to be discovered. The guesthouse was
nothing like the grandeur of Thornfield Manor; its faded paint and
crooked shutters spoke of simpler, humbler beginnings. It would have
to do.
She paid the driver with shaky hands, watching the dwindling stack of
cash in her wallet with a pang of anxiety. Every dollar counted now.
As she stepped inside, the receptionist greeted her with sleepy eyes
and a polite smile. Isla booked a room and climbed the narrow stairs,
clutching the key tightly. The room was small and plain, with a single
bed, a rickety table, and curtains that barely shielded the light from
the lamppost outside. It wasn’t much, but it was hers for the moment.
Isla sat on the edge of the bed, her suitcase resting at her feet. She
didn’t cry, though the tears threatened to spill over. Her chest ached
with a heaviness she didn’t know how to shake, but there was no time
to fall apart. Tomorrow, she would have to find a job, a place to rent-
some way to start over.
She stared at the ceiling, the faint cracks forming patterns that
seemed as chaotic as her thoughts. Let this work, she prayed silently.
Please, let something go right for once.
