Chapter Isabelle Campbell
ISABELLE CAMPBELL
Hanna was feeling much better by the time I got home. Her fever had dropped a lot.
“It was just a little scare,” my mom said.
“Or maybe the medicine kicked in faster than we thought.”
She went to the living room, and I sat with my daughter for a bit. Hanna was quiet. When she gets sick, her energy usually drops to zero, and she sleeps for hours.
A few minutes later, my mom came into the room. “I noticed there’s a car parked out front,” she said. “But no one’s gotten out. I’m this close to calling the police.”
I didn’t answer right away—just looked out the window. It could’ve been one of Colin’s drivers, maybe. You never know.
But when I took a closer look, I realized that none of the mansion’s cars looked like that black sedan. My stomach tightened. I decided to go outside and see what was going on, even though my mom tensed up the moment I reached for the door.
The second I stepped outside, two men got out of the car. “Got out” might not even be the right term—they practically unfolded themselves. Huge, broad-shouldered, definitely security types.
“Are you looking for someone?” I asked.
“Yes. Sorry for waiting out here so long. We’re looking for a man named Rudolph. Do you know him?”
My heart skipped a beat. What could two men like this—men who looked like bodyguards—want with Hanna’s father?
“Yes. He’s my daughter’s father,” I said carefully.
“Do you know when he’ll be home?”
“He won’t. He left us.”
I didn’t want to drag this out. That part of my life needed to stay buried.
“So you have no idea where he might be?” one of them asked, stepping closer and removing his sunglasses.
“No. None at all.”
“Think carefully,” the other one said. “He didn’t say anything before he disappeared? Just vanished into thin air?”
“I told you—I haven’t seen him in years. Why all these questions about him?”
“He owes our boss a large sum of money,” the man nearest to me said flatly. “The deadline for repayment was last month.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the information you’re looking for.”
“Isabelle…” one of them said, and a chill shot through me. I hadn’t told them my name. “Our boss is running out of patience. He’s not a man who enjoys games.”
“I’m not playing games. I don’t know anything about Rudolph. Maybe try somewhere else—because you won’t find anything here.”
They exchanged a look, and my unease grew. Deep down, I had the sense they didn’t believe me—that they thought I knew where Rudolph was hiding. But I truly had no idea.
“Here.” One of them handed me a card with two phone numbers on it. “If you find out anything, call us within fifteen days. Take care.”
“Why fifteen days?” I asked, but one of them just smiled before they both got back into the car.
I watched as the black sedan drove off, a knot tightening in my chest.
Something told me this wasn’t over—and that whatever was coming, it wasn’t good.
“Did Hanna come in today?”
“Yes.”
I was walking Joshua to school. In the beginning, he didn’t talk much to me, but after becoming friends with Hanna, things started to change. We talked more—mostly about her.
“Did her fever go down?”
“She was fine yesterday. She’s tough.” I winked.
“So... you’ll let me play with her, right?”
“Of course.” I smiled, and his face lit up.
Then an idea crossed my mind. I wasn’t sure he’d go for it, but it was worth a try.
“How about inviting your dad to play with you guys next time?”
“My dad?!” He looked startled—or maybe just surprised. I couldn’t tell which.
“That’s right,” I said with a nod.
“Uh, he doesn’t really like that stuff. I’d rather just play with her.”
“I think it’d be good for him. Your dad spends a lot of time alone.”
“Yeah. He’s been weird ever since my sister died.”
Even at his age, Joshua understood—and felt—the weight of the tragedy that had hit his family. Losing his sister and his mother had taken a toll, and it was clear that something inside him had changed too.
“Joshua…” I crouched down to his level as we reached the school gates. “Give your dad a chance, okay? I know he misses your sister a lot, and he doesn’t always know how to deal with it. He misses you too—he just doesn’t know how to show it yet.”
He looked at me for a long moment but didn’t say anything. I could see the conflict in his eyes, that quiet sadness only kids carry when they’ve seen too much.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”
He turned and walked toward the school.
I stood there watching him go, hoping—really hoping—that my words might have given him the courage to try.