Chapter 56 Sneaking Around
Isabella's body shook with silent sobs, her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe. She forced herself not to make a sound. If she woke Isla, she would be thrown out.
She didn't know how long she stayed there, knees aching on the cold floor, until a faint gray light began to creep through the window. Morning was coming. She had to leave.
But her body was spent, hollowed out, every muscle screaming. She tried to push herself up, but her strength was gone. She crumpled back down, pain flaring white behind her eyes.
Biting her lip hard enough to taste blood, she made one more attempt. Her arms trembled, her legs refused to obey. Nothing worked.
Isla rolled over in her sleep, and Isabella's pulse spiked. No. If she got caught now, she would never be allowed back.
Then came footsteps outside. Slow. Approaching.
Her stomach knotted. William? Juniper? Either way, she was finished.
The door eased open. A shadow slipped in, saw her on the floor, and crossed the room in seconds. Strong arms scooped her up.
Isla stirred at the noise, eyes blinking open. She thought she saw someone leaving, got up to check, but the hallway was empty. Probably just a doctor on rounds.
Around the corner, Thomas held Isabella close, his jaw tight. He'd found her crumpled on the floor and hadn't hesitated.
"Go," Isabella whispered urgently in his ear.
When Isla didn't follow, Isabella let out a shaky breath of relief.
Thomas carried her back to her own room. Sweat clung to her skin, and he grabbed a towel, then poured her a glass of water.
"You alright? Should I get a doctor?"
She drained the glass in one go before answering. "No. Thank you. If you hadn't come when you did, I don't know what would've happened."
Thomas frowned. "Those are your parents... why does it feel like you're sneaking around?"
He didn't finish the thought. It was too sharp, too cruel.
Isabella knew exactly what he meant—like she was doing something shameful.
She stayed silent.
Thomas sighed. "I just got back from overseas. I came straight here to see you, and when you weren't in your room, I went looking."
That explained why he was here at this hour.
"Don't come again," she said flatly.
He gave a wry smile. "You want to push me away like you did Ms. Wesley?"
She met his eyes and realized he knew everything.
"Isabella, we're not idiots. We know you're trying to protect us. But we're not afraid. Not everyone fears William. He tried to ensnare me in his games, but I'm here, aren't I? I can handle him."
"No. Please... don't get involved."
Thomas had once risked his life for her. She owed him more than she could ever repay. Hurting Ambrose had already left her bleeding inside—she couldn't bear to drag Thomas down too.
He smiled faintly. "Too late. I'm in it now. And now that I know what's going on, I'm not walking away."
She shook her head. She didn't want help. Didn't deserve it. All she did was pull people into her mess.
"I know what you're thinking. Just focus on healing. I'll figure something out for your father."
Her eyes lifted to him.
"This hospital's director is an old friend of mine. I can arrange for you to see him without sneaking around at night."
The offer hit her like a lifeline. She was desperate to see Benjamin, to be near him.
"Really?"
"Of course. Two hours a day. But you have to eat. You won't be able to take care of him if you collapse."
He already knew she was barely eating, surviving on IV drips. It couldn't go on.
"...Alright. I promise."
"It's almost morning. Rest. I'll talk to him today. You'll see your father before the day's over."
She closed her eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Spencer."
"And actually sleep," he said. "Not just pretend."
She nodded, letting go of the tension in her body. Sleep took her quickly—last night's tears had drained her, and her injuries had left her fragile.
Thomas watched her breathing steady, her face still marked by a fresh handprint. His gut twisted. What kind of hatred does it take to hit someone already broken?
Husband? The word felt like poison.
By noon, the nurse brought in a tray far richer than usual—fresh vegetables, lean meat, soup. Isabella knew Thomas had arranged it.
"Ms. Tudor," the nurse said, "your friend told me to make sure you eat. He said there's a surprise later."
For the first time in days, Isabella smiled. Normally she could barely swallow, but today she cleared the plate.
Thomas hadn't lied. That afternoon, the nurse wheeled her into a small surgical room. On the bed lay Benjamin.
"Dad..." she whispered, afraid to be overheard.
Thomas stepped up behind her. "You can speak up. It's just us."
She looked at him, worry flickering. "Won't they suspect something?"
"It's a routine check, just in a different room. No one will think twice."
No one would guess they were meeting here.
Thomas rolled her closer. "I'll give you time."
Her throat constricted. She could hold his hand openly now. She could call him without fear.
"Dad... Dad..."
The tears came fast. "I'm sorry. I'm useless. Please forgive me. Don't hate me. Don't leave me."
"I miss you so much."
"Please... don't go."
She'd been a wild child, never Isla's favorite, but Benjamin had always been patient. Even when she messed up, he never raised his hand to her.
She bent over the bed, talking to him like he could hear every word.
Then the hand she held twitched.
Her head snapped up. His eyes were open.
For a heartbeat she thought she was dreaming. "Dad?"
Her voice was a mix of joy and fear. What if he woke and told her to leave?
"Isabella!" His voice was hoarse but certain.
She stared, stunned.
Benjamin exhaled, lifting his hand to rest on her head. The warmth of it broke her.
"Good girl. You've suffered."
Her composure shattered. She clung to him, crying hard enough to shake.
Benjamin's hand rubbed her shoulder gently. "Don't blame us. And don't blame your mother. She's been through too much."
Isabella shook her head. She'd never blamed anyone. Only herself.