Salome’s POV
“He finally sent the measurements,” I muttered, staring at the glowing screen of my phone.
It was late evening when the text from Arthur finally arrived. I had almost given up on the idea. Weeks ago, I had reached out to ask about the specific sizing for Jeremiah’s suit, the one I had ruined during our first, disastrous encounter. Arthur had ignored me until now. The reply was blunt and purely professional. It listed a set of numbers: height, chest, waist, and sleeve length.
The follow-up message was even colder. It stated that Mr. Shawn requested I use these details to purchase a replacement for the damaged garment.
I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. For a split second, a flicker of something like hope brushed against my ribs. I wondered if this was an
