ELEVEN YEARS LATER
The sun poured gently through the tall dining room windows, spilling gold light across the long mahogany table. The Hart family's breakfast was always a quiet but elegant affair, white china plates, polished silverware, and the soft clink of cups against saucers.
Isabella sat on the left, Ava on the right, both still in their school uniforms, crisp white blouses neatly tucked into navy pleated skirts, blazers folded over the backs of their chairs, ties perfectly knotted. Their laughter came in soft bursts as they passed the toast basket back and forth. Claire watched them from her seat at the head of the table, chewing slowly, a faint smile on her lips.
She still remembered the days when the two girls could barely reach the table, and now here they were, teenagers with bright eyes and endless stories. It was hard to believe how fast the years had gone.
With Ava's quiet encouragement, Claire had managed to keep Isabella in dresses and skirts for most of her childhood, carefully suppressing her daughter's tomboy streak in Adrian's presence. On the rare days when Adrian was away on business trips, Bella was allowed to wear what she wanted, jeans, sneakers, and T-shirts that made her feel free, but today, school uniform rules left no room for that.
Claire sipped her tea.
"Harry, girls, you'll be late for school," she said softly, though there was amusement in her eyes.
The girls exchanged quick smiles, finished the last bites of breakfast, and hurried out the door with their schoolbags slung over their shoulders. Claire watched from the window as they disappeared down the long driveway, the sound of their chatter fading into the distance.
The house fell into its usual quiet. Hours passed in a calm routine until, in the late afternoon, the doorbell rang. Claire opened the front door to find Joyce — Ava's mother — standing there.
"Hi… good afternoon," Joyce said, her voice a little hesitant.
"Hi, come in," Claire replied warmly, stepping aside.
They walked together to the back porch, where the view stretched out over the manicured gardens. The air smelled faintly of roses, and the wooden chairs creaked softly as they sat.
Joyce clasped her hands together. "I… came to ask you something," she began, her voice careful. "I was wondering if there might be a position here at the mansion. As a servant, maybe. I've been looking for work, and… it would mean I could be closer to Ava, since she has decided to spend most of her time here."
Claire studied her for a long moment. The breeze lifted a few strands of hair from Joyce's face, and the weight of her words hung between them.
Joyce's face lit up the moment she heard Claire's offer.
"Head of the servants?" she repeated, almost in disbelief.
Claire nodded with a small smile. "You already know the house, and you've been in and out so often helping with Ava and Bella. The staff knows you, and I know you'll keep everything running perfectly. This way… you also get to be closer to Ava."
Joyce's joy was impossible to hide. Her hands came together in front of her chest as if she was holding the happiness in place.
"Thank you, Claire. You don't know how much this means to me. I've been working so much, I barely see her… this will change everything."
Claire understood more than Joyce realised. For years, she had been the one looking after both girls when Joyce was busy. She had watched their bond grow so strong that separating them, even for a short time, felt almost unnatural.
Without wasting time, Claire rang the small silver bell on the table. Within minutes, the servants began to gather in the foyer, maids in crisp uniforms, footmen standing tall.
"Everyone," Claire began, her voice carrying authority but also warmth, "this is Joyce, our new head of the servants. I'm sure most of you already know her."
There were nods, small smiles, even a few claps. Since Joyce had been around for years, no one looked surprised, only pleased.
Claire glanced at Joyce with a knowing smile. "When Ava comes home today, I'm sure she'll be thrilled."
AT THE SCHOOL
The bell rang, signalling the start of the next lesson. Students shuffled into their seats as the teacher entered, books tucked under one arm.
Isabella sat at her desk, scribbling in her notebook. She looked up and instinctively glanced toward Ava's seat — empty. Her eyes darted to the door. Ava had been right there a few minutes ago. Where had she gone?
They never left each other's sight. Not at lunch. Not between classes. Never.
Her chest tightened. She raised her hand, but before she could speak, the teacher began calling names for attendance. Isabella swallowed. If she asked to leave now, it would be refused.
But she didn't plan on asking.
She pressed a hand to her stomach and let out a small groan. "Ma'am… I think I'm going to be sick," she murmured, lowering her head just enough to look pale and miserable.
The teacher frowned. "Go to the nurse's office. Quickly."
The moment she was out the door, the act vanished. She scanned the hallway, her eyes sharp and quick. That's when she heard it, muffled voices, a raised tone, and something in her gut told her it was Ava.
She followed the sound to the corridor near the washrooms. Her worst fear came true. Ava stood backed against the tiled wall, as three senior boys loomed over her. One smirked, one blocked the exit, and the third poked at the ribbon on her uniform.
Isabella's vision narrowed.
FLASHBACK
"Mum, I want to learn kung-fu," a much younger Isabella had said, her tiny hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter.
Claire, busy arranging flowers, barely looked up. "Your dad wants you to focus on ballet and your etiquette lessons. That's important for you."
"I'll do all of that," Isabella promised. "I'll learn everything you want me to… but please, take me to learn to fight."
Claire finally looked at her, puzzled. "Why, Isabella?"
"I want to protect Ava from bad people," pause. Then she sighed. "Your dad will be travelling soon. We'll wait for that. I promise I'll take you."
PRESENT
That promise had been kept years ago and now, standing outside the boys' bathroom, Isabella didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, grabbed the first boy by his collar, and yanked him backwards so hard he stumbled. The second boy moved in, but she twisted, hooked her leg, and sent him to the floor with a sharp thud.
The third tried to grab her arm, but she spun and struck his shoulder, forcing him back into the wall. The sound of it echoed through the empty hallway.
By the time she was done, all three were groaning on the floor, holding their stomachs and ribs.
Ava, eyes wide and full of tears, stepped forward. "Bella, stop! That's enough!"
Isabella froze, breathing hard, her fists still clenched. Then she dropped them and stepped toward Ava, wrapping her in a tight hug.
"Sorry for coming late," she whispered into her hair.
Ava clung to her, shaking slightly. "You came. That's what matters."
That afternoon, their relief was short-lived. The summons came over the loudspeaker:
"Isabella Hart, Ava Moore, and…" followed by the names of the three boys, "report to the Dean's office immediately."
The girls exchanged a look. Isabella straightened her back, ready for whatever came next.