Karl waited until the kitchen cleared before stepping in. The scent of garlic and rosemary still hung in the air. Rosa was by the sink, washing a pan, her sleeves rolled up, her hair tied in a loose bun. She didn't look surprised when he walked in.
He leaned against the counter, arms folded.
"Busy evening," he said.
Rosa hummed. "Always is when the boss returns without warning."
Karl nodded, watching her. "How's Isabella?"
She paused, then continued scrubbing. "Tired. That's all."
"Tired?" he repeated.
"She's been working hard, like always. Cleaning. Helping the staff. I told her to rest more."
Karl stepped closer. "Rosa. Something's off. She's not just tired."
Rosa didn't look at him. "What are you really asking?"
"I saw her tonight," he said. "At dinner. She looked... hollow. Like she was pretending to be okay."
Rosa set the pan down carefully. "You've known Isabella long enough to know she's strong. But even strong people need quiet sometimes."
"That's not an answer," he said softly.
She turned then, wiping her hands on her apron. "There are things I can't tell you, Karl. Not because I don't want to. But because they're not mine to tell."
His eyes narrowed. "Is she sick?"
"No."
"Then what is it?"
Rosa met his gaze steadily. "Ask her."
"She won't talk to me. She's pulling away."
Rosa sighed. "Maybe she's afraid of what the truth will cost."
Karl's jaw tightened. He wanted to push more. Demand answers. But something in Rosa's voice told him she wouldn't say anything else. "I just want to help her," he said.
"I know," Rosa whispered. "But sometimes, helping means waiting until someone's ready."
Karl left the kitchen with more questions than answers.
***
Upstairs, Isabella sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room. The one she'd locked herself in the night before. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her thoughts spinning like a storm.
The dinner. Vance's questions. His hands. His voice. Everything had drained her.
A soft knock came at the door.
"It's me," Rosa said gently. Isabella rose and opened it. Rosa stepped in and closed it behind her, her eyes scanning Isabella's pale face. "You didn't sleep."
"I couldn't," Isabella admitted.
Rosa led her to the bed and sat beside her. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Rosa touched her hand. "He knows something's wrong."
Isabella's breath caught. "Karl?"
Rosa nodded. "He came to the kitchen tonight. Asked about you."
Isabella looked away. "What did you say?"
"Not much. Only that he should speak to you."
"I can't," Isabella whispered. "Not now."
"Why not?"
"Because if he knows," Isabella said, her voice trembling, "he'll protect me. That's who he is. He won't stand by."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"It is," she said. "If Vance suspects, he won't just hurt me. He'll hurt Karl too. Maybe worse. And if he finds out I'm pregnant..."
Her voice broke.
Rosa's hand tightened around hers. "Isabella…"
"I can't even protect my own body anymore," she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Every move I make is being watched. Every step feels like I'm walking on glass."
Rosa rose slowly and embraced her. "I'm with you," she said. "No matter what."
"I know," Isabella whispered. "But you have to help me keep this secret. At least until I figure out what to do."
Rosa hesitated. "Karl won't be blind for long."
"I'll avoid him," Isabella said. "I have to."
There was a knock at the front door downstairs. Both women tensed. Then footsteps echoed through the hall.
"Go," Rosa whispered. "Wash your face. Look strong. Don't let anyone see your fear."
Isabella nodded, wiping her tears. She stepped into the bathroom, ran cold water on her face, and stared at her reflection.
She looked like a stranger. But inside her, a tiny heartbeat reminded her of why she had to survive.
Karl stood by the window in his room, the night air cool against his skin. His thoughts wouldn't stop spinning.
Isabella was hiding something. That much he knew.
And Rosa knew more than she let on.
He replayed the dinner in his mind. The way Vance had acted. The tension in Isabella's shoulders. Her smile that didn't reach her eyes. Karl didn't trust easily. But his instincts rarely failed him.
Something was wrong.
And no matter how much Rosa wanted him to wait, he couldn't stand on the sidelines forever.
Later that night, Isabella returned to her room. She lay in bed, curled on her side, her hand resting over her stomach. She thought of Karl. Of how his eyes softened when he looked at her. Of how he'd held her that night, how safe she'd felt in his arms.
She missed him.
But love wasn't enough to protect them.
And as long as Vance was watching, love was a luxury she couldn't afford.