She was addicted to the medication.
Isabella's legs nearly buckled under the weight of that understanding.
She gripped the balcony railing again, feeling the tremor in her hands, and realized with devastating clarity what had happened.
She'd escaped her father's house. She'd run away from his control, his plans, his orchestrated future. She'd chosen Dante. She'd claimed her own agency and her own freedom.
Whatever was in those pills, She craved it. And she had no way to get it.
Not for days. Maybe longer.
And in the meantime, her body was going to punish her for every hour she was without it.
Isabella's breathing became ragged.
She caught her reflection in the window...pale, hollow-eyed, trembling.
She pressed her eyes closed and forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to calm down. Forced herself to remember that Dante was sleeping just inside the villa, and if he woke to find her like this, he would ask questions.
And she couldn't answer those questions.
