She escaped in the middle of the night with a slave. Isabella took a deep breath. She knew the moment of truth had arrived and that her next words would determine not only her fate, but also that of Thomas and her baby. “Father,” she began, her voice trembling but firm.
I’m pregnant. The silence that followed was deafening. Don Eduardo stopped dead in his tracks, as if he had been physically struck. His face went pale at first, then he blushed even more.
“Pregnant,” she repeated slowly, as if she didn’t understand the words of the gospel. “Yes, my father, and Thomas is the father of my child.” The explosion of anger that followed was like a hurricane. Don Eduardo grabbed a carved wooden chair and threw it against the wall, where it shattered. The soldiers
They instinctively stepped back. “Damn it,” her voice cracked with fury. “Damn Isabella, how could you dishonor our family like this?” “It’s not dishonor,” Isabelle replied, her courage born of despair. “It’s love. I love
