Chapter 36
The next morning dawned clear, the storm leaving behind a sky scrubbed clean and painted in soft hues of blue and white. By the time Isla finally summoned the courage to leave her room, lunch had long since passed. Her stomach churned with unease as she descended the stairs, her steps hesitant. Each movement felt heavier than the last, her heart pounding louder with every footfall. She had spent the entire night replaying Graham’s words and actions in her mind, trying to make sense of the cold indifference he had shown her.
She found him on the sunroof. For a brief moment, as she caught sight of him laughing with Evie, Isla froze. The way his handsome profile lit up with ease, the sound of his laugh carrying faintly over the breeze, made her chest ache. He looked so carefree, so utterly unlike the man who had once been her closest confidant. And Evie, standing beside him, was the epitome of grace and beauty. She tilted her head back, laughing softly at something he said, her hand resting lightly on his forearm as though she belonged there.
Isla’s legs trembled, but she forced herself forward, her hands clenched tightly into fists to stop them from shaking. She stepped out onto the sunroof, the warmth of the sunlight doing little to calm the cold knot in her stomach.
“Graham, can we talk for a second?” she called out, her voice slightly shaky. She raised it louder to mask the tremor, and both Graham and Evie turned to look at her.
The ease on Graham’s face vanished instantly, replaced by a guarded, grim expression. His smile disappeared like a light being switched off, and Isla felt the familiar pang of rejection hit her square in the chest. His eyes, once so warm when they met hers, now seemed distant and unreadable.
Evie glanced between them curiously, but Graham spoke first, his voice devoid of emotion. “Evie, this is my step-sister, Isla.”
The words were a slap to Isla’s face. Step-sister. The term felt clinical, detached, as if he were drawing a deliberate line between them. It was the ultimate dismissal, a reminder that she was an outsider in his world. Isla’s eyes dropped to the ground, her breath hitching as Evie stepped forward with a smile, extending her hand.
“Hello, Ms. Lancaster. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Evelyn Sage.”
If being called his step-sister had hurt, this was worse. Isla had never carried the Lancaster name, a fact that had always made her feel like she didn’t quite belong. Her mother and stepfather had refused to let her take the Lancaster surname, despite her pleading as a child to match their family. The exclusion had stung then, and it still stung now. Her voice was barely above a whisper, tinged with a breathless quality she couldn’t control. “Isla Clarke, actually.” “She kept her father’s name,” Graham said, his tone firm, as if cutting off the conversation.
Evie tilted her head, a polite but curious expression crossing her features. “Clarke? Was your biological father English?”
The question hit Isla like a blow. Her chest tightened, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She hated talking about her biological father. He was a void in her life, a man she knew nothing about except that he had left her and her mother behind. The topic brought nothing but pain, and Evie’s innocent curiosity felt like a cruel twist of the knife.
Before Isla could respond, Graham stepped in, his large frame moving between her and Evie like a protective barrier. His sudden movement surprised her, and for a moment, she caught the faintest flicker of something—worry? Regret?—in his expression. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
He positioned himself so completely in front of Isla that she could no longer see Evie. Isla could feel the tension radiating off him, his broad shoulders stiff.
Evie blinked, looking slightly taken aback but still polite. “Oh, I see,” she said lightly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Graham’s voice softened slightly as he addressed her. “Evie, I’m sorry. Aren’t we running late for the picnic lunch? If we want to see the whole town before sunset, we should leave now.”
Evie’s face lit up again, her curiosity forgotten. “You’re right! I almost forgot about that. Please, lead the way, my good host.” She extended her hand toward him with a playful smile, and Graham took it without hesitation. His fingers closed around hers in a gesture so natural, so easy, that it made Isla’s heart splinter further.
“It would be my honor,” Graham replied, his voice soft and full of warmth that he hadn’t shown Isla in months.
As Graham and Evie made their way to leave the sunroof, Isla couldn’t hold back any longer. Her heart hammered in her chest as she called out, “Graham, I—”
He turned to her, his expression unreadable, his eyes giving nothing away. He cut her off with a low, firm voice, his tone laced with quiet impatience. “Not now, Isla. If you have something important to say, wait until this evening. In my office. When we have some privacy.”
And with that, he turned back to Evie, offering her his arm like the perfect gentleman. She laughed softly as she looped her hand through his, and together they left without another glance in Isla’s direction. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they disappeared down the stairs, leaving Isla rooted in place, the words she had tried to say stuck in her throat.
She remained standing there long after they were gone, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. The ache in her chest was unbearable, like a cold compress pressed directly against her heart, numbing and yet somehow amplifying the pain. Her mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, longing, fear, and a deep, gnawing sadness that seemed to consume her whole.
Why won’t he just listen? she thought, frustration bubbling up alongside her despair. But beneath the frustration was a more terrifying realization—one she had tried to deny for weeks. Graham wasn’t bluffing. The coldness in his voice, the distance in his eyes, the way he had introduced her as his step-sister to Evie—it all pointed to the same chilling truth. He was moving on. He was done with her.
Isla sank into a chair by the window, staring out at the sprawling grounds of Thornfield Manor. For the first time, the thought of losing this place felt real. The home she had grown up in, the walls that had held her happiest memories, and even her deepest sorrows—it might all be gone.
Her thoughts drifted back to the way Graham used to be. The warmth in his smile when he looked at her, the gentleness in his voice when he spoke her name. And it might all be gone too and Isla needed to stop that from happening, she needed to talk to him, to make him understand.
At around six in the evening, the sound of laughter echoed through Thornfield Manor as Evie and Graham returned from their outing. Their voices were bright, carefree, and their steps light as they ran up the grand staircase like two mischievous children. Isla heard them from her room, her stomach twisting at the sound. She stayed where she was, hidden behind her closed door, until she was certain the laughter had faded and the house had settled into silence once more. Only then did she gather the courage to venture out.
The storm clouds outside were gathering again, dark and heavy, promising another downpour. It mirrored the weight in her chest, the tension that had been building all day. She made her way down the dimly lit hall toward Graham’s study, her heart pounding with each step. She paused at the door, taking a moment to collect herself before knocking softly.
“Come in,” came his voice, low and measured.
She pushed the door open, her breath catching as she stepped inside. Graham wasn’t at his desk, poring over papers or staring at his computer screen as she had expected. Instead, he was lounging in an armchair by the fireplace, a glass of scotch cradled in his hand. The amber liquid caught the flicker of the flames, casting a warm glow that seemed at odds with the cold indifference in his eyes.
He didn’t immediately speak, but for the first time since his return, he truly looked at her. His gaze, sharp and penetrating, moved over her slowly—from her eyes to her trembling hands, down the length of her body to her feet. The intensity of it felt like both a burden and a strange relief, as though a weight she had been carrying finally began to lift.
“Want a drink?” he asked abruptly, his tone casual but clipped, almost as if the words had left his mouth before he could stop them. Then, as if remembering something, he let out a low, sardonic laugh and shook his head. “Oh, wait. You’re not old enough, are you?”
The corner of his mouth tugged into something that might have been a smirk, though it carried no humor. Isla flinched inwardly at his words. There was a taunt hidden in there somewhere, though she couldn’t quite untangle it.