Chapter 42 Whispers Like Weapons

• (POV: Isabela)
• The days after Mateo’s chilling correction felt colder, quieter. The lesson had been learned. Pushing back against him, even in small ways, carried a price I wasn't willing to pay – not when the threat against Camila, however veiled, felt so real. The tiny spark of rebellion I had nurtured withered under the ice of his finality. Now, I focused only on survival, on maintaining the perfect facade of the compliant fiancée, counting down the days to the wedding – now just three away – with a mixture of numb dread and frantic, suppressed panic.
• My luxurious suite, with its stunning ocean view, felt more like a cage than ever. The guards outside my door were a constant reminder of my prisoner status. The silence in that place was a heavy blanket. It only broke for meals I couldn't eat, or when Mrs. Davenport came by, her voice cold, to talk about his wedding – a wedding where I was just a prop. Hours passed with me just staring at the huge, empty sea, feeling tiny, a nobody, a prisoner. The dagger Mateo had given me remained hidden, a cold secret beneath my mattress, its purpose still a confusing mystery tangled up with his control.