chapter 7

Isabella's voice was a heartbreaking whisper, a despairing plea that trembled with tears as she begged, "Let go of me, please… I need to see my mother." Her eyes were two shimmering pools of sorrow, brimming with tears that spilled down her cheeks like diamonds, as she gazed up at the servant with a desperate longing.

She tried to wriggle free, to break the servant's iron-like grip, but it was no use – the servant's fingers only tightened, holding her fast with a strength that seemed almost cruel. Isabella's arms flailed, her hands grasping wildly for release, but the servant's hold was unyielding, a vice-like trap that refused to open.