The Roots Of It All

As Isadora stood lost in thought, her mind a thousand miles away, she felt a sudden wave of fatigue wash over her, causing her to sway slightly. Mrs. Agnes's concerned voice broke the spell, "Isadora, are you alright?"

Composing herself, Isadora replied, "Yes, I'm fine. I just need to rest," before bidding Mrs. Agnes farewell and retreating to her room.

Once alone, she locked the door behind her and sank onto her bed, her hand instinctively reaching for her stomach. She attributed her weakness to the pregnancy, knowing she'd been pushing herself too hard both physically and mentally.

As she scrolled through her phone's gallery, a familiar picture caught her eye - her and a coworker from her former life at the hotel. The photograph brought a fleeting smile to her lips, capturing a moment of joy and contentment in her former job.

But the nostalgia was bittersweet, a painful reminder of the life she once knew and the one she now felt trapped in. Her mind began to wander back to the fateful day that changed everything, the night that set her on this unexpected path.

On that particular day, while Isadora was on duty at the Lighthouse Hotel, a well-dressed man walked in, exuding an air of wealth and sophistication. His suit was immaculate, and his glasses added a touch of mystery to his appearance. As he approached her desk, Isadora greeted him with a warm smile.

"Good day, welcome to the Lighthouse Hotel," she said, her eyes meeting his, but unable to see his face clearly due to his glasses.

"I'd like to book the most exclusive suite," he requested, his voice low and smooth. Isadora nodded professionally and checked him in, noticing that he seemed to be staring at her intensely, but she chose to ignore it.

After completing the check-in process, she handed him the keys and provided directions to his suite. He nodded and left, leaving Isadora to wonder who this enigmatic guest might be.

As she prepared to leave after her shift, a coworker approached her with a pleading expression. "Hey, can you do me a huge favor before you head out?" she asked, her voice laced with urgency.

"I'm eager to get home, I have personal things to attend to," Isadora replied, her tone hinting at a sense of exhaustion.

"Please, it's a quick errand, I promise it won't take up much of your time," her coworker persisted. "What do you need help with?" Isadora asked, her curiosity aroused.

"I need someone to deliver extra towels to the exclusive suite. The guest is a high-profile VIP who checked in few hours ago," her coworker explained.

"That sounds familiar... I think I checked in someone with a similar description just hours ago," Isadora said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to place the memory.

Yes, a billionaire," her coworker confirmed.

"Why can't you handle it yourself or ask someone else on your team?" Isadora questioned, her skepticism evident.

"Others are swamped, just drop off the towels and you're done," her coworker pleaded.

"You know how secretive and exclusive that suite is – anything can happen behind those doors," she hinted, her reservations evident.

Her coworker sensed her hesitation and pressed on. "Don't be so anxious, please just do this for me."

Isadora relented, her kindness winning out. "Okay, fine. I think the room number should be..." She paused thinking.

"Suite 32," her coworker completed, her expression a mix of gratitude and relief.

"I'll drop off the towels and then use the back entrance to leave - it's a more direct route from there," she said, her kindness and sympathy getting the better of her.

"Thanks so much, I really appreciate it! I owe you one," her coworker replied, clearly relieved.

"You're right, you do owe me," she said with a hint of playfulness. "I'm only doing this because you asked, it's not part of my job description."

"I know, I know - I'm slammed tonight. I have multiple deliveries to make and the others are tied up. It's chaos tonight," her coworker explained, handing her the towels.

"Alright, got it," she said, taking the towels and heading towards the exclusive suite, unaware of what laid ahead.

Despite her growing unease, she made her way to the room, her heart racing with each step. She knocked on the door after a brief hesitation, and it swung open almost immediately. "Hello, I have the extra towels you requested," she said, her voice steady. But before she could react, a hand seized her arm and pulled her inside, the door locking behind her with a ominous click.

She recalled pleading with him, tears streaming down her face, but her words fell on deaf ears. He was intoxicated, the smell of alcohol on his breath evident as he spoke in slurred tones. Despite her desperate cries, he refused to listen, and ultimately, he overpowered her.

When it came to the next morning, she was met with a harsh reality. She was in a state of shock, her heart heavy with grief and shame. She felt she had let everyone down, especially her boyfriend Antonio.

With no time to dwell on her emotions, she quickly got dressed. As she gazed upon the sleeping figure, her eyes widened in recognition - it was the wealthy and influential Tycoon. Overwhelmed and unsure of how to react, she quietly took some belongings from his wallet and made a swift exit, using a back route to leave unnoticed.

Isadora snapped back to reality, her eyes welling up with tears. She rose from her seat, seeking a distraction from her thoughts. As she opened the door, she found Hillard, Maxwell's butler, poised to knock.

"Hello," she said, feeling a tad awkward since they had never spoken before.

Hillard's expression was characteristically stoic. "Maxwell wanted me to inform you that he'll be away for an indeterminate period. If you require anything, please don't hesitate to contact him directly."

Isadora nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, thank you."

As Hillard departed, she thought to herself, "Good riddance. Who needs him anyway?" She proceeded to the kitchen, her mind still grappling with the complexities of her situation.

As she entered the kitchen, Isadora instinctively gravitated towards the fridge, retrieving a selection of fruit before making her way to the small dining table.

She sat down, her mind still reeling from the enigmas surrounding Liam. The mystery of whether Piper had indeed seen a ghost or if Liam was somehow still alive lingered, compounded by Mrs. Agnes's reluctance to discuss the previous occupant of her room. The puzzle pieces refused to fit together, leaving Isadora perplexed and frustrated.

Just as she began to nibble on the fruit, a sudden, thunderous voice pierced the air, growing louder by the second. Isadora's heart raced as fear took hold, her senses on high alert. The abrupt interruption shattered the tranquility of the moment, leaving her feeling vulnerable and disoriented.

The sound of Mrs. Adriana's strident voice cut through the air, making Isadora's heart sink. "Where is that incompetent grill?" she heard, and she knew that tone all too well. Isadora braced herself for impact, wondering what she had done to incur Mrs. Adriana's wrath this time.

Mrs. Adriana swept into the small dining room, her bodyguard looming behind her, her face purpling with rage. "You foolish child, sitting here, eating, while my daughter is suffering? How dare you touch her, you wretched girl?" she thundered, her accusing finger jabbing in Isadora's direction.

Isadora rose to her feet, confusion and alarm etched on her face. "Ma'am, I don't understand what you're talking about," she protested, trying to placate the irate woman.

"Silence, before I force it upon you!" Mrs. Adriana bellowed, her voice echoing off the walls. "You claim you didn't harm my daughter, so what did she do to deserve your wrath?" Mrs. Adriana sneered, stepping aside to reveal Sophia's battered form.

Isadora's eyes widened in horror as she took in Sophia's condition. Her body was a canvas of bruises, her face swollen, and her clothes disheveled, as if she had been dragged through the streets.

"Ma, I swear I didn't do this!" Isadora pleaded, her voice shaking. "I would never hurt anyone!"

Mrs. Adriana's expression twisted in rage. "How dare you lie to me?" she spat, her hand flashing out to strike Isadora across the face. The slap echoed through the room, leaving a stinging sensation on Isadora's cheek.

Tears sprang to Isadora's eyes as she protested, "I'm not lying! I didn't hurt Sophia, I promise!"

"You have the audacity to harm my daughter, who do you think you are? You were supposed to be their guardian, their protector, yet you've done the unthinkable. You'll pay for this," Mrs. Adriana seethed, her words dripping with venom.

Isadora cowered as Mrs. Adriana's hand flashed out again, landing another stinging slap. "You were spared once before, but not this time. No one will intervene on your behalf, not even my husband. You're on your own," she sneered.

Isadora fell to the ground, her face burning from the slaps. She knew she was in a desperate situation, and the absence of Maxwell made her fate seem sealed. She pleaded, "Ma, please, I swear I didn't harm Sophia. I'm innocent, I beg you to believe me."

"Get her out of my sight and lock her in the cold room," Mrs. Adriana ordered, her voice cold and detached, as she gestured to the bodyguards.