Chapter 279: Chapter 279

Chapter 279

The heavy electronic lock at the top of the subterranean corridor beeped twice, signaling the start of the evening meal delivery. Down in the windowless stone cell, Isabelle did not bother sitting up from her iron cot when she heard the familiar echo of footsteps approaching. The damp air in the room was cold, seeped straight from the thick foundation walls, but she kept her coat buttoned tight and her arms folded across her chest. She watched the heavy wooden door with a dull, unblinking glare, listening to the metallic slide of the outer bolts being drawn back one by one.

The door swung inward with a low groan, revealing two young estate maids standing in the hallway under the watchful eye of a tall security guard. The younger maid, a French girl with her dark hair pulled back in a net, carefully carried a gray plastic tray holding two bottles of water, a plastic bowl of soup, and a plate of sliced bread. Following Madame Laroche’s strict new orders after the broken pitcher incident, everything on the tray was soft plastic, completely free of glassware or metal utensils that could be used as a weapon.

The maid stepped inside slowly, keeping her eyes glued to the stone floor. She walked past the rusted iron oven in the corner, keeping as much distance from Isabelle as the tight space allowed, and set the tray down on the small wooden washstand near the cot.

Isabelle sat up, her boots hitting the floor with a firm thud. She didn't look at the food. Instead, she locked her eyes straight onto the maid’s face, her expression cold and entirely unreadable.

"I told Madame Laroche three days ago to stop sending people down here with food," Isabelle said, her voice dry but steady. "I am not touching anything Sam Keystone pays for."

The maid swallowed hard, taking a quick step backward toward the doorway where the guard stood leaning against the frame. "Mademoiselle, please," the girl said in quiet, trembling English, keeping her hands clasped together in front of her apron. "You have to eat something. Madame Laroche said if you refuse the tray again tonight, we will have to bring the medical staff down tomorrow morning."

Isabelle let out a low, bitter laugh, standing up from the cot in one smooth motion. The sudden movement made both maids jump back toward the hallway, their faces pale with anxiety. The guard outside adjusted his belt, stepping slightly into the doorway to make his presence known, but Isabelle didn't even turn her head toward him.

"Let her bring whoever she wants," Isabelle said, stepping up to the wooden washstand. She looked down at the plastic tray, grabbing the edge of the hard tray with both hands. "You think Sam can keep me locked in this basement forever? You think because he brought me to a different country, nobody knows where I am?"

The younger maid reached out a hand slightly, as if trying to calm her down. "Mademoiselle, please just take the bread. We are only doing our jobs."

Before the girl could finish her sentence, Isabelle lifted the heavy plastic tray and shoved it with all her strength straight off the washstand. The tray flew through the air, hitting the lead maid right in the chest before crashing onto the stone floor. The plastic bowl split open, dumping warm soup across the girl's clean apron and splashing liquid over the guard's polished shoes. The two water bottles bounced off the hard ground, rolling into the dark corner near the old iron oven, while the sliced bread scattered across the damp floorboards.

The second maid let out a sharp gasp, pulling her coworker back into the hallway out of reach. "She's insane!" the girl cried out in fast French, wiping a spot of soup off her sleeve with a shaking hand.

The security guard shoved his way past the two women, stepping inside the room with a dark scowl on his face. He held his hand out, keeping his distance, but his voice was sharp and filled with anger. "That is enough! You do not throw things at the staff in this house!"

Isabelle stood her ground right in the middle of the room, completely unfazed by his towering height or his aggressive tone. She raised her chin, looking him straight in the eye without a single drop of fear.

"Get out of my room," Isabelle spat out, pointing a single finger toward the open corridor. "Take your food and take your garbage staff back upstairs. Tell Sam Keystone he can build ten more walls around this estate, but it isn't going to change a damn thing."

The guard took a step closer, his fist tightening at his side. "You are a prisoner here, girl. You don't make the rules, and you don't talk to us like that."

Isabelle took a step forward to meet him, her voice ringing clearly off the damp stone walls. "I know someone is coming for me. You tell Sam that! I know Ethan is out there, and I know he is going to find this place. I am getting out of here soon, and when I do, every single one of you standing by those doors is going to pay for keeping me in this hole."

The guard stared at her for a long, tense moment, surprised by the absolute confidence in her voice. He had seen plenty of panicked people locked up in private security holds over the years, but Isabelle didn't look broken. She looked entirely sure of every word coming out of her mouth.

Rather than risking a physical fight that would draw Madame Laroche back down the stairs, the guard spat on the floor near her feet, turned around, and grabbed the door handle. He pulled the two crying maids back into the hallway, slamming the heavy oak door shut behind them with a loud, echoey thud.

The sharp sound of the electronic keypads beeped twice, followed by the heavy metal deadbolts sliding back into place, locking the cell down completely once again.

Isabelle stood alone in the center of the dark room, listening to the frantic sound of the maids’ footsteps rushing away down the corridor alongside the guard's heavy boots. The smell of cold soup filled the small space, and the floor near the washstand was a mess, but she didn't care.

She turned around, stepped over the spilled food, and walked back to the corner of the room. She sat down on the edge of her iron bed, resting her hands flat on her knees while her breathing slowly returned to normal. She looked up at the high, narrow window grate near the ceiling, watching the heavy coastal rain streak down the exterior stone well.

She pulled her jacket tight around her chest, resting her fingers against the spot where the black flash drive was hidden deep inside her inner lining. They could keep the doors bolted, they could send guards to watch her every move, and they could leave her in the dark for weeks, but she refused to let them see her break. She leaned her head back against the cold stone wall, keeping her eyes wide open in the quiet room, waiting for the storm outside to pass.