ement was a fresh wave of pain from her ribs. She fumbled with the first-aid kit, clumsily re-dressing the scrapes on her

and Sarah, smiling on a hiking trip years ago, the sun in their hair. Sarah looked so alive, s

e whispered to the emp

d at it, her heart pounding a painful rhythm against her bruised ribs. Sh

ffice

that lashed against the windows. The thought of going out in this weather, in her condition, was exhausting. But

r a few late-working staff who stared at her with a mixture of awe and pity. Julian was in

e new floral arrangements for the lobby. I think lilies would be perfect, don't you?"

uments on the corner of his desk. "I need these cross-ref

ck. It was a week's wort

s poison. "Julian needs it. Surely his loyal assistant can

He was focused on his comput

h her side. She didn't say a word. She just turned and walked to her own desk in the

ping a slow, awkward process. Every few hours, Isabella would wander out of Julian's off

coffee. And make it qu

old. Make another one. And try not to sp

nter is jammed. Fix it. I don

it all while the mountain of paperwork on her desk remained untouched. The pain in her ribs was a constant, grinding agony, and her he

out with one last demand. She wa

th malice. "But he's worried. There have been some threats. Anonymous emails. He's suppo

instead. He said you're good at... handling things." The implication was cle

smug face. She knew this was a test. A cruel,

ella added, pushing the glass closer.

was dangerous. It was reckless. But refusing was not an option. Not if she wanted to maintai

arah. She though

e whiskey burned its way down her throat, a fiery path into her empt

e handed Amelia a piece of paper

ched only by the fire in her soul. She would go. She would walk into whatever trap they had set for her. She would

s expression was unreadable in the dim light, his face a mask of shadows. For a moment, she wondered if he felt anything at all. Guilt? Regret? Or was