~ Becca ~
Mrs. Hale invited me to lunch three days later.
Not through Stephen.
Not through Jace.
Directly.
The message came from an unknown number, polite and unmistakably precise.
Lunch tomorrow. The terrace at Bellamy’s. One o’clock. I’d like to know you better.
No signature.
She didn’t need one.
Bellamy’s was the kind of place where decisions were made quietly. Linen tablecloths. Men who spoke softly but owned entire floors of the city. Women who didn’t raise their voices because they never had to.
I arrived ten minutes early.
Not to impress her
To observe.
Mrs. Hale was already there, seated with her back straight, sunglasses on, posture effortless. She looked up the moment I stepped onto the terrace, her attention locking onto me like she’d been expecting exactly this ver
