The place was a forgotten corner of the campus, untouched by the daily bustle of student life. Here, amidst the whispers of leaves and the soft caress of the wind, Isabella allowed her sorrow to flow freely. Unbeknownst to her, in the shadows lingered a silent observer, his camera a silent thief capturing her most vulnerable moments. The images, once taken, were dispatched to his enigmatic employer with a message that belied the solemnity of the scene.

  "Boss, I have sent some pics. Miss is crying, sitting on the bench placed in the haunted area." The line was met with silence, save for a dismissive tut. Confusion flickered across his face before he resumed his vigil, his gaze never straying from the figure of Isabella.

  Elsewhere, the recipient of the photographs felt an unfamiliar tug at his heartstrings upon seeing Isabella's tear-stained visage. Her swollen eyes and the rosy hue of her nose and lips painted a portrait of distress that he could not ignore. Yet, as quickly as empathy arose, it was replaced by a sharp edge of skepticism.

  "This is all acting. I don't know why she keeps on acting... yes... I think she knows it... Tsk! She thinks she can outsmart me... You never will, Isabella... never ever!" His voice crescendoed into a shout, a tempest of fury that summoned his assistant to his office.

  "What now?" Benjamin's voice was terse, his patience worn thin.

  "Get out," he commanded after a brief exchange, his anger manifesting in a clenched fist against the wall. The tension was palpable, a storm cloud ready to burst, when another presence entered the room.

  Benjamin's ire was ready to be unleashed once more, but it was not his assistant who met his gaze. Instead, he found himself looking into the concerned blue eyes of his friend, Edwin Marvel. The offer of a glass of water was a temporary balm to his seething emotions.

  "What happened, Ben? Why are you being all aggressive today? Did something bad happen to you?" Edwin's voice was laced with worry, his presence a calming force in the eye of the storm.

  The embrace that followed was a familiar comfort to Benjamin, a reminder of a bond forged in the fires of shared childhood experiences. Edwin's touch was a salve to his frayed nerves, a silent reassurance that quelled the tempest within.

  "Nothing, Ed... I don't know... I was just..." Benjamin's words trailed off, the complexity of his emotions rendering him speechless. Edwin, ever the perceptive friend, sought to distract him from the turmoil.

  "Mmm, whatever, leave it, and let's have a drink in the evening at your private bar," Edwin suggested, steering them both towards a semblance of normalcy. 

  Benjamin's affirmation was a silent echo in the vastness of his office, "Yes... that will do," he murmured, his head bobbing in a rhythm of contemplation. The image on his phone, a frozen moment of Isabella's vulnerability, held his gaze captive once more.

  •••••••

  In the hallowed halls of academia, Isabella found herself adrift in a sea of judgmental eyes and whispered accusations. The words of Helen, venomous and biting, had painted her as a pariah, a siren among the pure. The male contingent of her peers, swayed by the tempest of rumors, cast her in the same mold as those they deemed unworthy of respect.

  Isabella, once a vibrant presence in the classroom, now shrank into the shadows, her spirit akin to that of a forsaken kitten left to fend for itself in the wilds of indifference. Pity, a scarce commodity, was offered in silent glances by a few kindred souls, yet it was a currency without value in the economy of social standings. The threat of Helen and Gia's wrath was a Damocles sword over the heads of any who dared to extend a hand of friendship.

  Resigned to her fate, Isabella sought refuge in the solitude of the college's forgotten corner, a place shrouded in tales of hauntings and spectral whispers. Superstition held no sway over her heart, for her faith was anchored in the divine. Yet, the sting of isolation and the barbs of cruelty were companions she wished not for. She clung to the hope that the morrow would bring a reprieve from her trials.

  The passage of time was a blur as she navigated the remainder of her day, her smile a mask worn for the world that refused to acknowledge her pain. DELIGHT, her place of employment, was a brief respite, a stage where she could perform the act of normalcy.

  The twilight hours brought her to the doorstep of Mr. Perry's abode, her steps quickened by the absence of the usual tormentors. The young Miss and Master, architects of her daily misery, were conspicuously absent. Relief, swift and sweet, washed over her as she greeted Mr. Perry, her smile unwavering even as concern furrowed his brow at the sight of her injuries.

  "Good evening, Mr. Perry," she chimed, the melody of her voice belying the day's discord.

  "Good evening, dear," Jonathan Perry replied, his smile a warm beacon in the dimming light. His eyes, however, betrayed a curiosity that mirrored her own.

  "The Master and Young Miss, they weren't there to greet me with their usual... fervor," Isabella ventured, her inquiry hanging in the air like a delicate mist.

  Jonathan's smile broadened, a sunburst of satisfaction breaking through the clouds of concern. "Isabella, you are truly an angel. It seems even the heavens frown upon those who would do you harm, for they have received their just desserts," he declared, his voice a tapestry of vindication and relief.

  Isabella's brow creased in bewilderment, her mind a whirlpool of questions. What twist of fate had befallen her usual antagonists?