‘You locked the door,’ Isabel went on as if he had not spoken. ‘I have spent years trying to figure out why that door was locked. Yet the moment Ita told me, it all made sense.’

‘You think I would lock two women in a room and set your family home on fire?’

She looked up at him. ‘Look around you. You have built a camp that is full of grief and suffering.’

‘I have built a solution.’

‘Can you not see the damage you are doing to these people? There are families locked in here whose only crime is surviving at a time when most were dying. And this is how they are rewarded.’ She stood. ‘The rain has stopped. The food has returned. These people should be out there rebuilding their lives. You are taking advantage of their misfortune.’ She searched his eyes. ‘Can you not see that?’

He stepped up to her—fast, bringing his face close to hers. ‘You cannot possibly understand what is happening here, because you have lived the last five years sheltered by my father’s kindness and my undying love for you.’

‘Perhaps you are right.’ Her eyes moved between his. ‘Perhaps now is a good time to tell you that I no longer wish to be sheltered. It is time for me to make my own judgements about the world and life decisions.’ She paused because she knew she should not say it. ‘Including whom I marry.’

He grabbed hold of her face, squeezing so hard she feared her teeth would shatter. She clawed at his arm, but it was futile.

‘I love you tirelessly,’ he said, face close to hers, ‘and this is how you repay me.’ His mouth came crashing down on hers, teeth scraping. She tried to push him away, but he was too strong.

Finally, he broke the kiss and looked at her. ‘Think carefully about what comes out of your mouth. Words cannot be taken back.’

Tears fell down her cheeks now. ‘I hate you. I hate you for the things you did back then and the things you are doing now.’

His eyes were two flames ready to torch her. ‘You hate me? For the things I did back then?’ He squeezed her jaw. ‘I did that for you!’ Spit hit her face. ‘I did it for your family! For us!’ He released her with a shove.

Her hands went to her cheeks. That should have been the end of it, but apparently she had a death wish. ‘I hate your voice, your face, the feel of your hands on me.’ She swallowed down the sob in her throat. ‘But most of all I hate myself for not telling you that sooner.’

Years of resentment, layer upon layer, suppressed until it had solidified, came pouring out. It had poisoned her for too long.

Oh, the relief.