29. Theodore
29
THEODORE
A few days have passed since we visited Isabel’s apartment.
There’s a shift in the air, a subtle one.
I notice it every time I look at Isabel . She still fights us, bickers and snaps at us like she always does, but there’s something different now. She’s almost… comfortable.
She has been coming out of her room more often, lingering in the living room while I go through paperwork, Julian pours over his sketches, and Maxwell … Well , Maxwell does Maxwell shit, whatever that entails.
Isabel doesn’t say much. She just stays, hovering like a ghost, not quite involved, but never really leaving. I can feel her eyes on me as I work, even when she’s pretending to be absorbed in whatever files she’s skimming through. I’ve caught her more than once looking at me from across the room, her face a mix of curiosity and wariness. It’s like she’s trying to make sense of us, of all this.
Yesterday , when I was knee-deep in paperwork, Julian noticed her in the kitchen. The look on his face was priceless. He practically ran to her, ready to check if she was burning up with fever. Turns out, she was just hungry and decided to make herself something to eat.
That was a first.
Not only did she cook for herself, but she made enough to feed all four of us.
It wasn’t just a meal; it was an offering.
A silent peace offering, one I didn’t miss.
It feels like a subtle dance, this back-and-forth we’ve found ourselves in. She keeps her distance, but she no longer complains that she’s still here, caged like a bird with clipped wings.
Every day, a little more of her breaks through her walls, and I can’t help but wonder if she even notices it.
Right now, she’s lying on the couch, stretched out on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she sifts through more files.
I’m sitting across from her, going through some old tomes Julian brought back from the archives, my mind half on the words in front of me, half on her. She doesn’t know it, but I’m watching her again, the way she flips through the papers with such focus. She’s so beautiful when she’s absorbed in something. Her hair falls in waves, dark and messy, spilling across her back as she bends over the files. The curves of her body shift with every movement as her shirt pulls tight over her skin. I can’t help but admire everything about her. It’s like she carved herself a place in my mind, something I can’t shake even if I wanted to.
Is this love?
The thought drifts in like a whisper on the wind, soft yet impossible to ignore. I’ve never known love before—never dared to reach for something so vast and consuming—but if this isn’t love, then what else could make her feel like a melody woven into my very being?
Six months.
That’s how long she’s been here, and in that time, she has seeped into our lives like ink staining paper.
Permanent , inescapable.
Isabel is no longer just our captive. She’s part of us now, entwined in ways I don’t think any of us expected.
Julian does everything to make her comfortable, even though he doesn’t have to. He remembers the little things: her favorite foods, the snacks she likes, the way she takes her coffee. He’s always drawing her, filling page after page with sketches of her face.
Maxwell looks at Isabel like she’s some impossible illusion he’s afraid will vanish if he glances away for even a second. She’s his greatest act, his most dangerous gamble, and he takes any excuse to slip into her room at night.
If we were ever meant to let her go, that time has long since passed.
I take a deep breath, leaning back in my chair and allowing myself a moment to just look at her. My chest tightens, and I feel that familiar burn of wanting her, of needing to possess the space she occupies. But for now, I settle for this—admiring her from a distance, savoring the way she has become such a fixture in my life.
She has always been a puzzle, but lately, I feel like she’s slowly revealing herself to me, bit by bit.
I glance over at her, tilting my head as I study her. “ Found anything interesting?” I ask.
She doesn’t immediately respond. Instead , she flips another page, her eyes scanning the documents. She doesn’t look up at me, but I see the way her lips tighten slightly.
“ It’s all connected,” she says after a beat. “ Vanguard , the Sotelo family… It’s all tangled up in a way I can’t quite piece together yet, but I will.”
I can’t stop the smirk that pulls at my lips. “ Good . You’re getting closer.”
Isabel suddenly shoots up from the couch. Her eyes are wide, her pulse practically visible in her neck. “ Oh my God ,” she breathes, the excitement in her voice unmistakable. “ This is it. This is it!”
She rushes to the dining room table, her hands flying through the scattered books and papers. The sound of pages turning frantically fills the silence.
Julian’s heavy footsteps thud down the stairs, and within seconds, he’s standing in the doorway. “ What’s going on?”
Isabel holds up a finger, silencing him as she digs through the mess with newfound determination.
After a moment, she pulls something from the pile and looks at me, her gaze locked on mine as she holds the paper between us. “ You said the Whitmores and the Addingtons were the main founders of Ebonridge , right?”
I nod. “ Yeah . Their legacy is tied to everything here.”
Julian watches the exchange closely, but he stays quiet, letting Isabel continue her line of questioning.
Isabel pulls another sheet of paper from the pile, her fingers trembling slightly as she holds it up. Her eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that matches the surge of unease creeping up my spine.
“ Okay . From what I was able to find, you were left at the orphanage, yet you were supposedly dead. Why would they want you to stay dead when you weren’t really?”
My mind races, searching for an answer I still can’t find. I shake my head slightly, my jaw tight. “ That’s what I want to know too, but I can’t figure it out.”
Isabel doesn’t look up from the papers as she continues, her voice taking on a darker tone. “ In one of the files I had, it mentions the Addingtons as having a close connection to the Sotelo family, which was their link to the Whitmores . But once the Addingtons and Whitmores joined forces, the Sotelos seemed to disappear.”
She pauses, glancing up at me before continuing, her voice a little more strained. “ From what I was able to figure out, it seems like most of the Sotelo family—or what was left of it—was women…”
Julian’s face shifts as he processes the information. “ Oh , shit. Do you think they sacrificed them in the rituals to gain more power, which is why they simply vanished?”
The thought hangs in the air like a suffocating cloud, the pieces of this twisted puzzle falling into place.
I glance at Isabel , her face pale but determined as she looks back at me. “ If that’s true,” I say quietly, “then the Sotelos weren’t just erased from history—they were sacrificed to start maintain the legacy.”
Isabel turns to Julian . “ Julian , give me the book with all the ancestry of Ebonridge .”
He moves toward the bookshelf, pulling out the thick, leather-bound book and handing it to Isabel . She flips it open and quickly skims the pages. Her eyes move faster with each turn until she stops abruptly, her fingers freezing.
“ What the fuck?” she mutters under her breath.
I look over her shoulder, my stomach sinking. “ What’s wrong?”
Isabel’s face goes pale, her finger pointing to the page she just turned. “ The ‘ S ’ last name page is missing .”
I step closer, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look. The absence of the page is jarring—there’s a clean gap where the page should be, as if someone deliberately ripped it out.
Julian’s brow furrows, his lips pressing into a thin line. “ What the hell does that mean?”
Isabel’s eyes are hard now. “ It means someone is trying to hide something.”
Julian’s eyes suddenly widen, his hand pausing mid-air, as if something has just clicked into place. “ Wait ,” he mutters, as though he just remembered something important. He looks over at Isabel and then back at the bookshelf. “ Maybe the missing pages are in Father’s boxes.”
He moves quickly, heading to the office. We follow him.
When we step inside, I run my fingers along the boxes we brought over from Lionel’s office at Vanguard , scanning each one. Finally , I stop at one at the back.
“ Check this one,” I say.
Isabel flips open the box, the musty scent of old paper filling the air. Her fingers shake slightly as she flips through the papers, her eyes scanning the names. The Sotelo family tree stretches across the yellowed parchment. She mutters to herself as she traces the lineage, the words falling quietly from her lips.
Her eyes widen as she stares at one particular name.
“ Isn’t this your adoptive mother?” Her voice is tight with disbelief as she looks up at me and Julian .
My heart lurches in my chest as I look at the photo and name she’s pointing to— Celeste Sotelo .
I swallow hard, trying to steady myself, but it’s like everything I thought I knew is unraveling before my eyes. I look at the page again, my eyes scanning the name, trying to piece together something that doesn’t make sense.
Julian’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. “ It’s time we pay Mother a visit.”