The cold cut her skin, and stones hurt the soles of her bare feet, but she didn’t stop. The love for her father was greater than any pain. «I have to reach him. I have to save his life. They’ve already started poisoning him.»
Her mind repeated the words like a frantic drum, and her thin legs, though shaky, obeyed the urgency. The early morning was long, the darkness seemed infinite, and hunger weighed on her, but nothing would make her give up. When the sky began to lighten, Isabella finally spotted the first streets of the city.
Her heart beat even harder, and tears of relief mixed with sweat and exhaustion. Stumbling, she reached the entrance of John’s mansion. The tall gate seemed impassable, but her will was greater than all. She gathered her last strength and pounded on the door, first softly, then with more desperation.
«Dad! Dad!» she murmured low, without even realizing. Footsteps sounded from the other side. Her heart nearly stopped. The door opened, and there he was: John, worn down, with sunken eyes and a tired face.
Upon seeing his daughter, he froze as if struck by lightning. His mouth opened silently, his hands trembled. «Isabella!» The voice came out like a whisper, incredulous. She, without thinking, threw herself into his arms, and the clash turned into an explosion of emotion.
The hug was so strong it seemed to want to stitch every piece of pain in both. John sobbed loudly, his beard soaked in tears, repeating non-stop, «It’s you, my daughter! It’s you, my God! I can’t believe it!» Isabella cried into his chest, finally safe, breathing that scent of home she’d thought lost forever.
For long minutes they stayed clutched, as if the world had vanished, but amid the crying, Isabella lifted her face and spoke between sobs. «Dad! Listen to me! I didn’t die in that fire because I was never alone there. It was all planned. Stella! Uncle Mark! They set the fire to fake my death.»
John held her by the shoulders, his eyes wide open, unable to process. «What are you saying? Stella! Mark! No, that can’t be true.» His voice was a mix of disbelief and pain.
Isabella, firm despite the tears, continued. «I heard them. Dad! They laughed at you. They said two months have passed and no one suspected anything. And it’s not just that. Stella’s already started poisoning you.»
«Every tea, every meal she prepares is poisoned,» she continued breathlessly. «They want it to look like a natural death so they can take all your money. You’re next, Dad.» The words came out fast, desperate, as if her father’s life depended on every second.
John stepped back, bringing his hands to his face, and a roar of rage escaped his throat. The impact hit him like an avalanche. The man who for weeks had cried like a widower over his own daughter now felt the pain transform into fury. He clenched his fists, his gaze hardened, and the tears once of mourning were now of hate.
«They’ll pay. Both of them will pay for every tear I shed, for every night they stole from me with you,» he said with a firm voice, almost a shout. He hugged her again, stronger than before, and added, «You did well to escape, my girl. Now it’s us two, and together we’ll fight.»
John paced back and forth in the mansion’s study, his face flushed, veins throbbing in his temples. His hands shook with rage, but his eyes were fixed on his daughter, who watched him silently, still agitated from the escape. The weight of the revelation was crushing, and his mind spun in a thousand directions.
«My own brother, the woman I trusted with my home, my life… traitors,» he exclaimed, slamming his closed fist against the mahogany desk. The sound echoed in the room, but it wasn’t louder than John’s accelerated breathing. Isabella approached slowly, fearing her father might let impulse drive him to act without thinking.
«Dad, they’re dangerous. You can’t go after them like this. If they know I’m alive, they’ll try to silence us again,» she said with a halting voice, but firm. John breathed deep, ran his hands over his face, and knelt before her, holding her small hands.
«You’re right, daughter. I won’t let them hurt you again, not if it’s the last thing I do.» The silence between them broke with a phrase born as a promise. John, looking into her eyes, spoke low. «If we want to win, we have to play their way. They think I’m weak, that I’m on the edge of death. Well, let’s let them think that.»
Isabella blinked, confused. «What do you mean, dad?» He smiled bitterly. «I’m going to pretend I’m dying. I’ll give them the victory they crave until the exact moment to snatch it from their hands.»
The girl felt a shiver run down her spine. It was risky, too dangerous, but seeing the conviction in her father’s eyes, she couldn’t refuse. «And me, what should I do?» she asked softly.
John squeezed her hands and replied firmly. «If they notice you’ve disappeared again, they’ll suspect and probably come after you, maybe finish what they started. I can’t risk your life like that. You need to go back to where they’re keeping you and stay there for one more week.»
«That’s the time I’ll pretend to be sick until I die. After that week, escape again and meet me at the old iron bridge in Central Park in the afternoon, exactly at the spot where the old plaque is cracked. Understand?» A spark of complicity began to grow between them, an alliance forged in pain.
Sitting side by side, father and daughter started sketching the plan. John explained each detail calmly, but his gaze showed a man at war. «I need to start looking sicker than I already do. I’ll isolate myself, cancel commitments, seem fragile. They can’t suspect I know anything.»
Isabella, with her heart racing, murmured, «But what if the poison continues?» He caressed her face and replied, «I won’t touch anything from their hands, not even a glass of water. From today, they think they have me in their grasp, but we’re the ones pulling the strings.»
Tears returned to the girl’s eyes, but not just from fear; there was a silent pride in her chest. For the first time, she wasn’t just the protected daughter; she was part of the fight. John hugged her again, but now with different energy.
It wasn’t the hug of pain anymore, but of alliance. «They think we’re weak, Isabella, but together we’re stronger than ever.» In that stifling room, with no witnesses but the walls, a pact was born that would change everything. Father and daughter, united not just by blood but now by the thirst for justice, let pain give way to strategy.
The morning transformed into fire, and as the sun rose through the window illuminating them both, it was clear the traitor’s fate was sealed. All that remained was waiting for the exact moment to strike. John immersed himself in the role he’d written, starting the performance with calculated precision.
He cancelled commitments, distanced himself from partners, and locked himself in the house as if his health were crumbling. The first news spread discreetly: «Businessman John Harrison faces health issues.» Little by little, the version solidified.
John rehearsed in front of the mirror the short breaths, the lost gaze, and the dragging steps that would convince even the most sceptical. Then came the climax of the farce. Headlines spread across radios and newspapers: «John Harrison dies, victim of cardiac arrest.»