Plan Is At Motion

Isabelle sank into the seat as the car sped down the road. She let out a long breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort to keep her composure.

She was holding herself from lashing out at those monsters. But that would be too easy for them. She is not going to hold back, not one bit.

She tightened her jaw, trying to calm her anger, and looked out the window. The city stretched out in front of her, with tall buildings reflecting the sunset's light and creating long shadows on the streets below. Her thoughts wandered to the past, with old memories popping up like ghosts.

***

"Mummy, look!" 10-year-old Isabelle beamed, holding up her report card with pride, the edges slightly crumpled from her excitement. "I got full grades!"

Her mother didn't even look up from her phone. "And so what? Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Anyone can make that grade," she muttered, her voice laced with annoyance.

"But—" Isabelle's words faltered, her smile fading as she glanced toward her father for support.

"Go to your room and stop disturbing us," her father said without looking up, his voice cold and dismissive.

Isabelle's heart sinks. She felt her legs tremble beneath her as she turned to leave, her shoulders slumping in defeat. As she shuffled toward the stairs, she could hear the sound of her mother's voice, cheery and bright as she addressed Catherine.

"Catherine, sweetie, where's your report card?"

Catherine's high, pitched voice rang out. "Here it is, mummy!" She waved it proudly.

"My baby is such a genius," their mother gushed, her voice dripping with praise.

Isabelle's throat tightened as she heard the words her father spoke next. "You've done well, Catherine. It's not easy competing with students that are as smart as you."

Tears burned the back of Isabelle's eyes as she ran to her room, her footsteps pounding the stairs. She slammed the door behind her and buried her face in her pillow, the sobs wracking her body. Why? she thought, her voice muffled by the sheets. What did I do wrong? I worked so hard. I have better grades than she does. Why do they hate me?

***

The sudden jolt of the car halting yanked Isabelle from her memories. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, and then saw the electric gate opening ahead. The car rolled forward, and she slowly stepped out, the weight of her past still clinging to her like a shadow.

As she stood in the yard, her breath caught at the sight of the house. It was breathtaking. Nestled into the landscape, surrounded by vast green fields that seemed to stretch on forever. The design was sleek and modern, but somehow it fit, like it had always belonged there. The glass and stone reflected the light of the late afternoon, and the surrounding trees framed the house as if protecting it.

Her eyes followed the winding path leading up to the entrance, passing by a fountain whose gentle cascade of water created a soothing rhythm. The sound was calming, a soft contrast to the storm inside her. She took a slow breath, trying to calm her racing heart as she approached the door.

Her fingers brushed against the smooth wall, and then she frozen. A biometric scanner blinked to life, demanding a face recognition scan. Isabelle paused, uncertain. How am I supposed to get in?

Just as her anxiety peaked, a soft ding sounded, and the door clicked open. She startled, stepping back slightly, then took a cautious step forward. The inside of the house was bathed in natural light, with tall windows casting golden beams across the polished concrete floors. The space was vast but warm, filled with stylish furniture and soft neutral tones. It was like stepping into a dream, the kind she'd only seen in magazines, but here she was, part of it.

A voice echoed softly in the room. "Welcome, Mrs. Slade."

Isabelle whipped her head toward the sound, her pulse quickening. Who said that?

"That's the voice assistant," a deep voice replied smoothly.

She turned her head to find Logan descending the spiral staircase, his presence commanding. His eyes met hers, and her breath caught. There was something magnetic about him—something dark, but at the same time, oddly comforting.

"Oh..." The word slipped out before she could stop it.

The man stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. He reached out, his fingers brushing her hair as he gently tucked a loose strand behind her ear. The touch was brief, but it lingered in her mind.

She barely had time to react before he spoke, his voice smooth and commanding. "Let me show you to your room." With that, he turned and started walking away.

Still somewhat dazed, Isabelle nodded, her steps faltering as she followed him.

She sees an elevator up ahead.

"How big is this house?"

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and she stepped inside. Logan pressed a button, and the elevator began its ascent. The silence between them stretched thin, making Isabelle feel awkward. She couldn't think of anything to say.

When the elevator doors slid open, she exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding. They walked down a long corridor, and Logan stopped at a door. He pushed it open, motioning for her to go in first.

Isabelle stepped into the room, her eyes widening. The space was far larger than any room she'd ever had—bigger than some apartments she'd visited. Her fingers grazed the sleek furniture, her mind still reeling. This... this is my room?

The bedroom offers a roomy haven with a sleek and modern charm. Light gray hues cover the walls. In a corner stands a large comfy bed with a medium dark wood frame. White sheets and light gray pillows dress the bed. Simple nightstands sit on each side topped with slim modern lamps that give off a warm welcoming light at night.

At the bed's foot, she sees a stylish bench covered in soft fabric, giving the room a fancy feel. A big neutral-colored rug makes the hardwood floor less hard underfoot. On one side, there's a smooth built-in wall for media stuff, with a flat-screen TV hung above a nice low console that fits right in with everything else. The room gets lots of sunlight from big windows with soft-looking curtains.

She suddenly felt Logan's presence closer to her. "This is all yours," he said, his gaze briefly meeting hers. "Everything here has been prepared for you, and there's more if you need it."

Isabelle nodded. She had no idea what she had put her life in for. But she knows she is in control of her own destiny from now forth.

Logan's gaze held hers for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he spoke again. "The servants are away on vacation, but your personal bodyguard will be here soon." His eyes flicked to the watch on his wrist. 

"Alright."

Logan's lips curled into a slight smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He moved closer, his presence towering over her. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing across her cheek, and for a moment, Isabelle froze, unsure of how to react. 

Isabelle's eyes locked with his, and for a moment, she saw something raw in his gaze—authority, yes, but beneath it, a flash of anger that made her stomach tighten. It was so brief she almost thought she imagined it, but it left her unsettled all the same. Just as quickly, his hand fell from her face, the absence of his touch leaving a strange void. He didn't say a word, stepped back, and walked out of the room, leaving Isabelle standing there, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

Logan made his way to his room, his steps heavy as he absently stared at the hands that had just touched her face. A flicker ofannoyance twisted his features. When he reached the bathroom, he turned on the faucet and plunged his hands into the cold water, as if rinsing off the lingering sensation of her skin.

Walking out, his phone buzzed on the bed, and he snapped it up, stepping out onto the balcony as he answered.

"How did it go?" the metallic voice on the other end asked.

"Smoother than I imagined. She didn't question much about why I chose her to be my wife," Logan replied, his eyes narrowing as he gazed out at the city below.

"You don't think she's going to find out?"

Logan's face tightened for a brief moment before he spoke, his voice colder now. "Before she does, my plans will be a success."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before the voice spoke again. "Make sure she falls in love with you. For this plan to work, you can't afford to fail."

The line went dead. Logan squeezed the phone in his hand until it cracked, the pressure of his grip crushing the device into a twisted mess of plastic.

"She will," he murmured to himself, his lips curling into a dark smile.