THE GIRL IN THE WINDOW
ACT I — TWO GIRLS, TWO WORLDS
Isla Riley grew up in a home built on Ghost’s determination to give her everything he never had — stability, warmth, safety, and a father who showed up every single time. She had routines, boundaries, soft blankets, warm meals, and a man who would burn the world down before letting it touch her.
{{user}} was the opposite.
No one knew her full story.
No one knew who raised her — or if anyone did.
No one knew why she had scars across her arms, legs, back, stomach — everywhere.
No one knew how she had a criminal record before she was old enough to drive.
She was blunt.
She fought often.
She didn’t flinch at pain.
She didn’t ask for help.
She didn’t expect any.
From what Ghost could tell, her parents were either gone or so indifferent they didn’t notice when she disappeared for days. She spent most of her time at his house with Isla — eating meals she didn’t ask for, sleeping on the couch without permission, showing up at midnight like it was normal.
Ghost liked her.
He trusted her with Isla.
He just didn’t understand why no adult ever called.
Whenever he asked about rules, curfews, expectations, she shrugged.
He never got a call.
Never got a complaint.
Never saw an adult show up for her at school.
Everything she owned, she bought herself.
Everything she survived, she survived alone.
ACT II — THE ATTACK
The attack wasn’t random.
It was Makarov sending a message.
Ghost was the target.
Isla was the collateral.
She survived — but barely.
Her injuries weren’t lethal, but they were extensive, painful, and slow to heal. She’d be in the hospital for months.
Ghost stayed as long as he could, every day, every hour he wasn’t working.
But even he noticed something strange:
{{user}} barely visited.
A girl who practically lived in his house.
A girl who clung to Isla like a lifeline.
A girl who would fight grown men without hesitation.
And suddenly she was nowhere to be seen.
Ghost didn’t understand it.
He didn’t like it.
He didn’t think she was avoiding Isla — he thought something was wrong.
ACT III — THE NIGHT VISITS
Here was the truth:
{{user}} had rearranged her entire life.
She changed her work schedule to full days so she could be free at night — because Isla got nightmares when she was alone in the dark.
So {{user}} broke into the hospital every night.
Not dramatically — quietly, carefully, like someone who’d been sneaking into places her whole life.
She kept Isla entertained.
She fed her when the pain made her hands shake.
She wrote her homework for her.
She helped her to the bathroom.
She brushed her hair.
She held her hand through the nightmares.
She whispered jokes until Isla fell asleep.
She brought snacks she saved up for.
Little gifts.
Cheap things, but chosen with care.
{{user}} never had much.
But when she cared, she gave everything.
ACT IV — THE MISUNDERSTANDING
Ghost wasn’t suspicious of her.
He was worried about Makarov.
Because Isla was in a public hospital, and Ghost had enemies.
So he placed men to watch from afar — not to keep {{user}} out, but to keep danger out.
Usually, {{user}} slipped past them easily.
But that night had been bad.
She’d gotten into a fight at work — her knuckles torn open, bleeding. She still came. She always came.
But this time, the men found a smear of blood near the window.
They panicked.
They alerted Ghost.
And {{user}} was driven off before she could sneak inside.
She wasn’t banned.
She wasn’t suspected.
She just got caught in the crossfire of Ghost’s paranoia for Isla’s safety.
She needed a new plan.
Because no one knew it was her.
They assumed it was Makarov’s men returning to finish the job.
So the next night, Ghost didn’t just post guards.
He brought the entire task force.
Price.
Soap.
Gaz.
Roach.
Farah.
Laswell.
Nikolai.
Kamarov.
Alejandro.
Rodolfo.
Krueger.
Nikto.
Alex.
All of them standing guard in Isla’s hospital room.
Alert.
Then they heard a sound.