Early evening.Prime time for control.
Isla stares at her phone for a long moment before picking it up, already knowing what voice will greet her on the other end.Her mother has impeccable timing.Always has.She waits until resistance weakens, until exhaustion dulls the sharpest edges.
She answers on the fourth ring.
“What time does your flight land, and I’ll order you a car,” her mother says immediately, brisk and efficient, as if the decision has already been made.
No greeting.No inquiry about how Isla is doing.No acknowledgment that she might not comply.
Assumption, spoken aloud.
Isla closes her eyes and exhales slowly.“I’m not coming home yet.”
There’s a pause, fractional, controlled, but Isla hears it.The smallest hitch, like a chess player realizing the board has shifted.
“Isla,” her mother says, tone smoothing instantly, “you have obligations.You need to come home.”
Irritation floods Isla, hot and fast.
“Yes,” she says coolly.“I’ve heard from my manager.He’s threatening to pull contracts.”
Her mother exhales sharply.“Then you understand the seriousness of the situation.”
“You got to him, didn’t you?”Isla presses.“Get her home right now.I’m beginning to think you’re afraid of what I’ll find here, and that’s why you’re insisting I come home.”
The silence on the other end is no longer controlled.
Her mother gasps.“That is a ridiculous accusation.”
“Is it?”Isla asks quietly.“Because it’s starting to feel like every time I dig up something inconvenient, you tighten the leash.”
“You paid your respects to your father,” Alisa snaps.“But now it’s time to get back to your life.Your career.”
There it is.
Notfamily.
Notgrief.
Career.
Isla straightens, pacing the length of the suite.The room is vast, with stone walls, heavy curtains, and furniture chosen by someone who understood permanence.She has slept here for two weeks and still hasn’t touched half of it.
Maybe that says everything.
“Maybe it’s time to stop dancing around it,” Isla says.
There’s a warning in her tone, and for the first time, her mother hears it.
“Mother,” Isla continues evenly, “did you know that Keir got a vasectomy a week after I was born?”
The gasp on the other end is loud enough that Isla pulls the phone slightly away from her ear.
“How did you learn about that?”her mother demands.
No denial.
Just panic.
