Because she trusted that her father had found legitimate medical care for her.
And that trust, Dante understood with absolute clarity, had been weaponized against her.
"Isabella," Dante said, and his voice was absolutely controlled, "I need you to understand something. I don't think you're sick. I don't think you have an anxiety disorder."
Isabella's eyes widened.
"What are you saying?" she whispered.
"I'm saying," Dante said carefully, "that I think someone has been deliberately giving you something that your body has become dependent on. And they've been disguising it as medical treatment."
"That's not possible," Isabella said, but her voice was shaking. "My father would never...."
"Your father found the doctor," Dante said. "But that doesn't mean the doctor is legitimate. It doesn't mean the medication is what it appears to be."
Isabella looked down at her trembling hands.
"So what you're saying is... I'm addicted to something I don't even understand," she said quietly.
