For a full 30 seconds, the Quinn parents just stared at me as if I had grown two heads.
The silence stretched tight, vibrating with the weight of my reckless offer.
Had I gone too far? Could my words have given them a bad opinion of me?
After all, I was a stranger, an unknown girl they had pulled from the brink of death, and here I was, suggesting I steal their daughter's identity… No, give me their daughter's identity.
"I... I am sorry about my outburst… Mr. and Mrs. Quinn. Please forget everything I just said," I said softly, my face burning with shame.
I turned on my heels and started climbing back up the stairs with no idea where I was going, my only goal being to hide from their penetrating gazes.
"Wait," Estelle called out, her voice cutting through my panic.
I froze, my feet pausing mid-step as her footsteps got closer.
I didn't dare turn around until I felt her hand tap on my shoulder lightly.
"Rita, bring some warm water for her. Her voice sounds dry," Estelle instructed when she reached me.
That was when I realised there was someone else in the room with the Quinns.
The woman named Rita was still in the living room, and my eyes didn't even see her in my desperation.
She bowed and said, "Right away, ma'am."
"Come, have a seat. Don't be scared," Estelle said gently, leading me down the remaining steps toward a plush velvet couch.
I could feel Joel's eyes following his wife and me, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
He didn't look like a man who believed in miracles; he looked like a man who had seen so much that he looked for even the slightest crack in every situation.
Rita returned with a glass of water, and I took a sip, causing my dry throat to soothe a bit.
I took a few more sips, all the while my head was lowered.
It was as if I instinctively didn't want to see the look on their faces. I stared into the ripples of the water, counting my heartbeat and hoping it would calm me down.
They didn't speak; it was as if they were giving me time to put myself together.
"The girl in the letter," I started, my voice still raspy. "Isabelle. She spoke of a cage. She spoke of wanting to be free of the blood on your hands."
I felt Joel move. The air in the room shifted as he sat in the armchair opposite me. He leaned forward, his hands folded across his chest.
"You have been eavesdropping. That is a dangerous habit in this house, girl. It can get you killed."
"Joel…"
I finally looked up, meeting his stern, grey eyes. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I got lost trying to escape. But the things she said... she doesn't know what a real cage is. She doesn't know what it means to be truly alone in a family that doesn't care about you."
Estelle sat beside me, her silk dress rustling. She reached out, her fingers hovering near my wrist where the faint purple bruising of the restraints still lingered.
"Who did this to you? We found you at the base of a ravine. You were half-dead, your lungs filled with water, your body... broken. Who are you? Can you tell me?"
The dam inside me finally broke.
Perhaps it was the warmth in her voice or the way Estelle looked at me with a softness I had never seen in Madam Swan's eyes, but the truth spilt out, and by the time I realised, I'd told them everything.
About the Swans.
About Nathan.
About the torture chamber and the electric chair.
About the way my father watched while my nails were ripped away.
I told them about the kiss... the way Lucas and Vanessa celebrated my death while I was still drawing breath.
By the time I finished, the room was deathly quiet. I looked at my hands, resting them on my lap.
They were scarred and bruised, a map of my family's betrayal.
Estelle was shaking. She wasn't just crying; she was vibrating with a silent, tectonic fury.
She reached out and pulled me into a sudden, fierce embrace. Her perfume smelt like expensive roses and something warm and gentle, like vanilla.
"They left you for dead," she whispered against my hair. Her voice was no longer that of a grieving mother; it was the voice of a matriarch who had seen a thousand wars. "If my Isabelle had fallen into such hands… I would not leave a single stone standing in that city."
She pulled back, her eyes roaming my face. I knew she was searching for the daughter she had lost in the girl she had found, but I couldn't help but want to own it.
"If you don't want to return to your family. You can stay with us. We'll protect you from them. You don't need to feel you owe us. I'd do that for anyone," Estelle said.
Joel, however, remained a statue of cold logic. He stood up and began to pace the length of the rug, his footsteps heavy and rhythmic.
"Estelle, dear, you're being emotional. If she really means what she said, that means there can be a way out," Joel said, his voice low.
"No, we're not going to take advantage of a girl who's already hurting and confused. Yvette needs to concentrate on getting better and probably getting therapy after everything she went through," Estelle reasoned.
"I understand your sentiments, dear, but Isabelle is gone. She has made it clear she wants nothing to do with the Quinn name. But her timing is catastrophic. We've already been pushing the deadline with the Knight family. The next date is in a week, and we'll have to finalise the alliance that has been in the works for a decade. The 'Iron Lady' of the Knights does not accept excuses, and she certainly wouldn't want to hear about a runaway bride. If the world finds out our only heir has abandoned us for a commoner, the Quinn reputation will collapse. Our enemies will see it as a weakness, and they will move in like sharks."
Estelle seemed tongue-tied after the speech Joel gave. She looked at him with a silent plea in her eyes.
Joel stopped pacing and looked directly at me, the weight of his gaze making me feel small.
"We need an Isabelle. One who is disciplined. One who understands the stakes. One who won't run away because she's bored with her piano lessons."
I stood up, ignoring the ache in my ribs. I stood as tall as I could, channelling every ounce of the bitterness and the cold, hard resolve that had formed in my chest during those hours in the chair.
"Let me become Isabelle Quinn," I said, my voice steady for the first time.
"I already have her face. I have her bloodline's reputation to uphold. But unlike her, I won't run. I have nowhere left to go, and I have people who need to see me rise from the grave. I will marry the Knight heir. I will be the perfect, dutiful daughter you raised. I will be the weapon your daughter refused to be."
Estelle looked at Joel and then at me, and for the first time, I couldn't tell the emotions on her face.
Joel stepped closer until he was standing right over me. He was a mountain of a man, smelling of tobacco and cold steel. He reached out, his large hand gripping my chin just like my father had, but his grip wasn't meant to bruise. It was an assessment.
He looked into my eyes, his gaze searching.
"You speak of marriage and alliances as if they were simple things," he murmured.
"You would be tied to the Knights forever. You would be living a lie that could get you killed every single second of the day. One slip, one wrong word, and we all burn."
"I have already died once, Mr. Quinn," I replied, not flinching. "The fire doesn't scare me anymore."
A slow, grim smile touched the corners of his mouth. It wasn't a kind smile; it was the smile of a predator recognising another. He released my chin and stepped back, his hands moving to his pockets.
"The girl who was found in the woods is dead," Joel declared, his voice echoing in the vast hall.
"From this moment on, you are Isabelle Quinn."
Isabelle Quinn.
The name felt strange to my ears and heavy on my shoulders.
But it also felt like a weapon.
"We will begin your training tomorrow. You will learn her walk, her history, and her secrets until you believe them yourself," he continued, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me with chilling, clinical curiosity.
"But let's be clear. No one gives a life for free, especially not a girl who has been through what you have. I've given you my name and my protection."
His voice dropped an octave, turning cold and sharp enough to draw blood.
"So, tell me. What do you want in return?"