Then at the door.
Daniel knelt down beside her.
“Why are you locked in here?”
Her answer nearly broke him.
“They say I need to be useful,” she whispered. “If I don’t work, I’m a burden. My mom doesn’t have money. They’re helping us.”
Chloe slowly stepped closer.
“Dad… look at her hands.”
They were covered in tiny cuts from needles—some fresh, some old.
Something inside Daniel snapped.
“This stops tonight,” he said firmly.
But Isabella grabbed his sleeve in panic.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she begged. “They’ll say I’m ungrateful. My mom will lose their help.”
Daniel realized something then.
The worst part wasn’t the locked room.
It was a child who truly believed she deserved it.
Moments later Diana and Patricia rushed in, faces pale.
“Mr. Harrison, we can explain—”
Daniel turned to them.
His calm voice was colder than anger.
“You call this help?” he said quietly.
Neither woman answered.
“No child chooses to work in a locked room sewing luxury dresses,” he continued.
He pulled out his phone.
But before calling anyone, he first knelt beside Isabella again.
“I’m not leaving you here,” he promised. “No one will hurt you again.”
Later that evening, Chloe sat beside Isabella in the boutique’s front room.