"Isabella?"
She looked up.
"Elena."
Elena approached.
"Would you like to go inside? It's getting cold."
"No."
Elena stood beside the wheelchair.
"Can I ask you something?"
"That depends."
"Do you remember the accident?"
Isabella's expression changed.
"Why?"
"I found some old medical documents."
The young woman looked toward the garden.
"Father keeps everything."
"Your doctor recommended additional rehabilitation."
Isabella said nothing.
"Did you know?"
A long silence followed.
Then Isabella spoke.
"I used to have physical therapy every day."
"And?"
"And I started feeling my legs again."
Elena looked at her.
"Really?"
"Not much. A little pressure. Sometimes warmth. Sometimes I could move my toes."
"That's wonderful."
"It was."
Her voice became quieter.
"Then my father stopped the treatment."
Elena felt something tighten in her chest.
"Why?"
"He said the doctors were giving me false hope."
"Did another doctor examine you?"
"Several."
"And what did they say?"
"That recovery was uncertain."
"Uncertain doesn't mean impossible."
Isabella smiled sadly.
"That's what my mother used to say."
Elena sat on the stone bench beside her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because nobody ever asks."
The answer was simple.
It was also devastating.
Isabella looked down at her hands.
"After the accident, Father became different. He stopped sleeping. He stopped eating with us. He spent all his time working."
She paused.
"Then my mother died, and he decided the world had taken enough from him."
Elena listened.
"He became afraid of losing me too. So he stopped allowing me to do anything dangerous. No rehabilitation that might hurt me. No trips. No visitors. No decisions."
"Isabella..."
"He says he loves me."
She looked toward the mansion.
"But sometimes I think he loves the idea of keeping me alive more than he loves the person I am."
Elena did not know what to say.
Then Isabella reached for her hand.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't let them make you leave."
Elena squeezed her fingers.
"I won't."
***
Vittorio discovered the old documents missing the following morning.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not throw anything.
He simply called Marco into his office.
"Someone entered the storage room."
Marco nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Who?"
"Elena Rossi."
Vittorio closed the folder in front of him.
"Bring her to me."
Ten minutes later, Elena stood before the desk.
Vittorio did not invite her to sit.
"Do you know what this is?"
He placed a medical report on the desk.
Elena recognized it immediately.
"Yes, sir."
"Why were you reading it?"
"I found it while cleaning."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Elena looked directly at him.
"I wanted to understand what happened to Isabella."
Vittorio leaned back.
"You are employed to clean this house. Not investigate my family."
"With respect, sir, your daughter is part of this house."
His expression hardened.
"Be careful."
Elena swallowed.
"She told me about her rehabilitation."
"That is a private matter."
"She said she was beginning to feel her legs again."
Vittorio's eyes became cold.
"She was nineteen. She was frightened. Doctors were encouraging her to believe something that might never happen."
"Did you ask her what she wanted?"
Silence.
Elena continued.
"Did you ask whether she wanted to continue?"
Vittorio stood.
"That is enough."
"She wants to try again."
"You don't know anything about what she has suffered."
"You're right. I don't."
Elena took a breath.
"But I know what it looks like when someone has stopped hoping because the people around them have stopped hoping too."
Vittorio stared at her.
The room seemed smaller.
"You have until tomorrow morning to find another position."
Elena's heart dropped.
"Sir—"
"Your employment is terminated."
He turned away.
But before Elena reached the door, a voice came from the hallway.
"Then fire me too."
Vittorio turned.
Isabella was standing in the doorway.
Her hands gripped the wheels of her chair.
"Isabella, go back to your room."
"No."
"This is not the time."
"It's always the time when you're making decisions about my life."
Vittorio's jaw tightened.
"I am your father."
"And I am not a child."
"You are my responsibility."
"I'm your daughter!"
Her voice broke.
For the first time in years, Isabella was shouting.
"Do you know what I remember about the accident? I remember waking up in the hospital and asking whether Mama was alive. I remember you telling me she was gone. I remember you promising that everything would be all right."
Vittorio looked away.
"And then you took everything else from me."
"That's not true."
"You stopped my therapy. You stopped my lessons. You stopped my friends from visiting. You even stopped me from going outside alone."
"I was protecting you."
"No. You were protecting yourself."
The words struck him.
Isabella continued, tears running down her cheeks.
"You were afraid that if I tried and failed, you would have to watch me suffer again. So you decided I would never try."
Vittorio said nothing.
"Elena is the first person in five years who has treated me like I am still alive."
The silence that followed was unlike anything the mansion had ever known.
Vittorio looked at his daughter.
Then he looked at the maid.
Finally, he sat down.
"Marco."
The bodyguard appeared.
"Sir?"
"Cancel my afternoon meetings."
He looked toward Isabella.
"Find the rehabilitation specialist who treated her before."
Isabella stared at him.
"Father..."
Vittorio's voice was quiet.
"If you want to try again, we will try again."
***
The specialist arrived two days later.
Her name was Dr. Sofia Bellini, a neurologist who had worked with Isabella shortly after the accident.
She examined the old reports, reviewed the latest scans, and spent nearly three hours evaluating Isabella's condition.